A lone voice undulates through the stillness of
dusk and echoes from the slopes of the mountain.

Other voices join the call, weaving into a haunting
tapestry of sound as they announce the return of Islaad.

It is time.

Drums pulse into the strain and
beckon all Artemaeans to gather.

They emerge from homes and inns,
and set down their last-minute
preparations to heed the summons.

Whether villagers or travelers, young or old,
healthy or infirm, every Artemaean comes with
the heart of a child to witness an event that
happens only once, perhaps twice, in a lifetime.

They flow by the hundreds to the
second-most sacred place for Artemaeans…

…the Rock of Islaad.

Here, it is said, the god Islaad
was born from the light of the Ça.

When the sunlight has faded and all stand ready,
the villagers raise their ça'di lanterns, bringing
the glittering starlight into the forest itself.

The drums rise to a crescendo…

…then slow to a pulse.

As the crowd waits in silence,
Iara steps forth from the cave.