The massive wooden doors creaked as they slowly swung open, echoing coldly off the massive stone pillars and high walls of the temple. Time had not been kind, leaving the ancient temple in near ruins. The pillars were broken and crumbling, and the roof had long since caved in, leaving debris scattered in the far corners of the room. Moonlight shone through the arched windows placed high on the walls.

Through the doors walked Sorahn un' Rohnahmeh, his snow white fur taking on a yellowed hue reflected from the many torches that hung from the pillars, lighting the hall. He walked straight toward the middle of the room; each step kicking up a tiny cloud of dust from the ancient floor which wafted around his tattered black pants before fading away. A low boom resounded as the doors closed behind him, then faded to leave the room silent save for Sorahn's soft footsteps and the rustle of the torch flames.

Before him stood a massive statue of Ronah, the god of all Ranoans, standing confidently with his spear in hand and wings spread, looking down on his people. At 70 feet tall, the great figure dominated the room with its majestic air. Surrounding the statue was a pool of water; cool and crystal clear. The pool was fed from an underground spring, symbolizing Ronah's provision for his children.

Directly in front of the statue stood a gray, hooded figure. He remained motionless as Sorahn approached, and neither made a sound. When Sorahn finally reached him he simply took a small step to the left, without saying a word. The Ranoan seemed to ignore him as he dropped to one knee before the statue, where the figure had stood. He murmured a soft prayer in his people's ancient tongue before standing again and gazing up at the statue. The figure removed his hood, revealing himself as an Ai'bron monk, and also looked to the statue.

“Your god appears to be quite mighty.” The monk said finally, his voice sounding unnaturally loud as it broke the silence and echoed off the walls.

“He has done much for my people.” Sorahn responded simply, keeping his gaze fixed on the statue.

“What does the inscription read?” The monk asked. Sorahn's eyes dropped to the words carved into the base of the statue in ancient High Ranoan, which appeared to the monk as simple slashes and lines.

“Shekeles tehlshath Ronah, rah tahnseth mehnatehs tehnmah na rehnasat menahtias. Rahnseth setkah neth tehnasatheles, nah rensath nethehnas.” He read from the stone inscription. He turned to the monk, looking him in the face for the first time.

“It means, 'Highest praise be to Ronah, for he hears our cries and shows compassion on us. He has delivered us from the Days of Torrent, and into the new world.'”

The monk simply nodded. Sorahn figured the scholar knew much about the Days of Torrent, and the creation of Al'Thayne, but knew nothing of the Ranoan race, who had not made it into Althanas lore. However the monk obviously could tell that Sorahn was not in the mood to recount the history of his people, so he changed the subject to more pertinent matters.

“Your opponent should arrive shortly, my lord.” He said, as Sorahn returned his gaze to the statue. “His name is Jordhan Kol'Alamar.” It was not a name Sorahn recognized.

“It is said that he is a shapeshifter.” Sorahn's eyebrow raised a bit.

“Some even say his body contains machina.” The monk added, his disbelief evident in his voice.

“It can't be...” Sorahn whispered quietly to himself.

“I'm sorry, my lord?” The monk asked, not hearing him.

“Nevermind.” Sorahn said. “Please leave me, I must prepare for the battle.”

“Of course, my lord.” The monk said and bowed slightly, before walking off and disappearing behind a pillar.

Sorahn looked up at Ronah's face, meeting the fierce eyes. “It just can't be...” He whispered, as visions of glorious battles of long ago rushed back to his mind.