No one knows who I am or what I do. No one knows where I go each night.

Even I have forgotten my name and who I once was.

That is … if I were someone before I palmed the Red Quill.

Before its power infused my fingertips and its whisper reached my soul. Before my heart beat in time to its words’ cadence.

Who am I?

I am the Shepherd of the Scrolls.

Aeons of memories, prophecies, oaths, callings and actions of the Faerie Shepherds and Shepherdesses live within my mind and reside on the scrolls I guard with my gifted might and magic.

No more a part of the world, I am the world. I contain its past, its present and—though I cannot see its future—I hold it in the proper balance each time I touch quill to parchment.

This is my calling; this is my life.

While the Scrolls hold only the history of the Faerie Shepherds and Shepherdesses; by default, they include the histories of all Peoples, Clans, Ages, Realms and Creatures.

Each line I’ve recorded gives another miniscule piece of the broader universal telling. As such, I suppose I’m something of a miscellanarian, gathering various and sundry details and scripting them from the Quill’s tip.

I have captured the essence of a Flower Faerie’s scent, the ferocity of a Minotaur, the terrors of the Age of the Damned and the medicinal qualities of the lowly thistle … all on one length of a scroll.

Now, I will record the integral role our prophesied Faerie Shepherdess must play to keep the Scrolls from unraveling. To keep past, present and future from soaring out into all the Realms. From becoming tangled, distorted and warped. Worse, from vanishing altogether … along with all the reality they contained.

This Undetermined Age will dictate whether any of us continue to exist … or, I suppose, whether any of us existed in the first place.