Tommorrow -- when the sun hits the sealine, left-south edge of Great Temple.

A simply written instructions letter from the most unfamiliar, formal handwritting. And no return address, nor a name. As to any other occurance in any story I had seen in my lifespan, this meant something big, and to the youthful mind, I must attend it, for such a direct call was surely to be answered.

Must've been left there while I was out, of course, with an unregonizable seal, in fact, unmarked, merely wax dripped upon the edges. There was no signifying mark, the writer might not have any ties to such nobility that would require such a stamp. Of course, as a sentinel, I had one, not personalized, but still special.

And to follow such instructions, I did, and the day went by faster than usual, mostly due to the tomfoolery of somebody which I can get into after this. And when dusk occured, or so I thought that is what the writer must've meant, I made my way without a word said to a soul, over to the location, a steep flight of steps leading to the very bottom of that left-south edge, the walls becoming slightly unkempt as I went down. What an ancient building this was. Another piece of paper, same as the letter, slipped from under the door, and written, asking to be slid back in if I was who I was. And with those instructions followed, a step or two heard of a synthetic-wood sandal, and the ancient side-emergency door opened, the chasms of the temple given air for the first time in what could've been years. The familiar face of the shrine maiden -- wait. Familiar. It's her. The savior from so long ago, aged alongside, a bit of weight, and the familiar warmth of her smile, charismatic smiles.

Beckoned to follow inside quickly, and then the door closed behind, left in the dimness of a lantern she picked from the floor, and with my claw handing her over that instructions letter, both of them, slid into the neck of her robes.