Keilinor paced around the chamber, her focus on the large table in the center.  It was covered with various papers, scrolls and parchments, all of which she’d read multiple times.  Her frustration grew with every step.  Her wings began flapping, scattering the papers about the room.

“Now look what you’ve done”, she glared back at the offending membranes as though they weren’t a part of her.  Truth be told, this isn’t the first time she’d sent the papers flying around the room.  It was a bad habit that she’d had since her years as a hatchling first learning to fly.  One that years as an adult dragon and scholar hadn’t broken yet.

Keilinor was one of the elite group of dragons who were considered by many to be the historians of Istaria, the record keepers.  She’d been chosen and groomed by Karane the Historian since she was first hatched so that now, many decades later, she had reached the level of Master Historian in her particular field.  But that was the problem… her field was one that was so specialized few dragons even attempted research in the particular area.  Her task seemed simple on the surface. Find records of Elders who had gone through the Gate of Embers and record their names and all the information about them.  But to the Ancients of long ago, record keeping and the listing of names in those records was not important.  More often than not, or so it seemed to Keilinor, there were so few dragons that all seemed to know “who was who” based on where lairs were built, where a particular dragon’s territory was, so no names were recorded.

As she began to carefully collect the papers yet again, using her protective claw covers to ensure that the delicate parchment wasn’t damaged further by an inadvertent claw tear, she heard the clicking of claws coming down the hall.

“Blast it, wings, now Karane is coming and will know that you’ve done it again!”  She began to move quickly about the chamber, hoping that her display of temper could be cleaned up before Karane arrived.  After all, Karane was one of the most Ancient of Ancients and so didn’t move quite as quickly any more.

From the chuckle she heard coming down the hall, however, she knew there was nothing wrong with Karane’s hearing.

“Frustration get the better of you again, young one?”, she heard as Karane rounded the corner.  Had a dragon been able to blush, Keilinor was sure her snout would be quite red rather than it’s normal green in that moment.

“Perhaps just a bit, Ancient One.”  Keilinor chuckled.  “But it was time for me to rearrange anyway. Look at things from a new point of view.”

“So do I take it to mean that you have nothing new to report then?” Karane asked.

“Well, not nothing, so much as, nothing of any substance.  I did find a reference in one document to a group of three dragons called “The Triad”, but there are no names given, and there is little about them beyond the mention of them traveling through the Gate of Embers together.”

“The Triad, you say?  I seem to recall a reference to that in a manuscript I had loaned to Semeneth quite some time ago. Please let me see what you have found.”

Keilinor searched through the papers she had already picked up looking, for the particular one Karane had asked for.  “Here it is.  You see here, where it says, The Triad went through the Gate together.  Each was an expert in a different area of the shaping of lairs, it says here. But that is all, unfortunately.”

“Thank you, Keilinor.  That is actually progress.  We know that much knowledge was lost with those who passed through the Gate of Embers, and much has been regained as the Elders have returned.  Please, do not consider what you have found to be trivial at all, as this combined with the information on the record I lent to Semeneth may be enough to put us on back on the path to learning more about the Crystalshapers.  Continue your research, please.  I will seek out Semeneth to see what more we can find.’

Keilinor knew a dismissal when she heard one and bowed to Karane as the Ancient dragon turned to leave.  “Perhaps my time here is more important than I had thought,” she whispered to herself.  “If only we could learn to shape crystals for ourselves again, this might turn the tide of the battle against the Aegis once and for all.”