My name is Ashzmandis. I once guarded the great circle of eight powers. Now I fear my end has come. But before I go, my most important findings lie here and live on. I will not be slain in spirit.
I am a type of Ashfire. That is a bit like a pheonix, in a way, only it can't fly and it only dies if either it's egg is smashed, or it's master dies. I was in my room, and a torch next to me went out. Of course, I relighted it, but in doing so I ignited a small red candle. Looking closely I realised it was no unlike any other candle, but still I was intreiged. When I turned around, though, my clumsy tail smacked a case of powders used for my food. The flame flared up, and I saw myself through the puddle of wax. Then its mouth moved. It was thick and raspy as it spoke, but it was audible. I heard
- Eight dragons, power of thy,
- Lost their lives in one night.
- Powerful dragon live again,
- Continue earth-ruling reign.
- Eight go, old mistakes redone,
- Captured and killed left one.