I learned the art out in the wastes of Utuaa. I was the Night Walker for my tribe. I spoke with the spirits, I fought the demons from beyond the Veil, I raised the dead to guard the living. I walked a lonely path, like all the Night Walkers of my tribe that deathlessly advised me and protected my people from the demons of the wastes.

One night, I was visited by strangers. They were from tribes far afield, practitioners of the art, but not of traditions I was familiar with. They talked about starting a school of magic, where the art would be taught to any who would learn. A place where the living could learn from the living and magic would thrive and change when its teaching was not in the hands of the dead.

At first, I did not want to leave my tribe. I had a duty to protect them from the darkness. But a man in this group of witches and wizards, one who I initially dismissed as a fool, approached me. He said that it was not just my tribe that needed protection from the dark. Other tribes, ones without a spirit council, ones that did not have my skills with the art, they suffered in ignorance. I had a duty, and I could learn from others.

So I left with these mages. I went to the port town of Alittu. I taught students the arts of the dead, and I learned the other traditions from the other mages. When I passed from the world I did not join the spirit council, instead, I awoke in Alittu again, and again. Curious.