He opened his eyes, the chamber that he was in was completely dark. He blinked to be sure that his eyes were open. They were but there was an absolute lack of illumination, much like the place he had been the last two hundred years. Without having to think that hard, the word for light came to him, he spoke it despite his mouth being as dry as sand in the desert. “Lumo”, he whispered, and a small ball of light appeared a foot above his head, precisely where he had wanted it. The light was dim, all the better. His eyes had not been open for a dozen generations, they would not like being assaulted by the harshness of a stronger light.

He could see the top of the cave, ten feet or so above where he lay. The naturally occurring ceiling was rough and craggy, made of a very dark stone with seams of a honey colored stone that ran through it. He willed his eyes to pan the room from left to right, then back from right to left. The cave was small, just enough room for the dais they he lay on, and storage for a few of his personal items. There was no door. With great effort, and a lengthy amount of time, he was able to sit up, and with much effort, to stand. The dryness in his mouth was outweighed by the emptiness of his stomach. He had never been one to eat much, even in his youth so many centuries ago; but right now, his hunger was intense and dominated his thoughts. Again, the word came to him as natural as if it was his first language. “Aqua”, he whispered, and a skin of cool water appeared next to him on the dais. “Victus”, he spoke, and a loaf of fresh bread appeared. Allowing the cobwebs to clear from his thoughts, he sat and chewed the bread, washing it down with the water. With every bite and sip, he felt energized, his thoughts became clearer, the vision that he had was now coming into focus.

Checking himself out, he was amused that his beard had not changed during the long period of his death-like sleep; but his clothes… His once sparkling blue robe was tattered and torn and appeared black. He realized that every inch of both his clothes and his exposed skin was covered by a thick layer of dust. With his renewing vigor, he whispered in a more powerful tone, “Retituo” and the cloth of his robe began to reweave itself, in seconds it was perfect in strength and form. He spoke the spell “Purus”, and the dirt lifted from him. His hair, including his beard were separated strand by strand and each was wiped of the filth. Water appeared in midair, dousing him head to toe. He closed his eyes as what felt like invisible hands scrubbed the dust from his aged pores. The clothing that he wore was likewise scrubbed vigorously to remove the ages of neglect. Dirty water lifted off him and formed a ball in the air, then folded in on itself till it was gone with a quiet, slurp.

Looking down at himself, he seemed quite pleased with the results. He was once again, himself. He would be standing at about six feet if not for how arched his back had become. His age was beyond guessing, his white beard was two-foot long and complimented his long white hair, both of which marked him as an ancient. His floor length robe was bright blue, of the finest silk and every inch had some rune stitched into the material with both Gold and Silver thread. No such garment had ever existed, it was literally priceless. He picked up his bag that was next to the dais where he had left it hundreds of years before. Hefting it over his shoulder, he raised his hand and drew a rune of power in the air to go along with his incantation. “Ostium”, he spoke, and a door began to appear in the solid stone of his tomb. The walls were thick, and it took more energy than conjuring food or water; but in a short time, there was a wizard sized hole in the wall, which he used to depart.

He looked around in every direction, there was no one in sight. It was nighttime and he was at the top of a mountain, on a small island in the middle of a large lake. He had known that he would be helpless if caught while sleeping, so he picked the most remote place that he could find. He gathered up a few sticks and stacked them for a fire. “Incendia”, he said to the wood, then watched gleefully as it caught fire and gave off both heat and light. He would need something more substantial than a loaf of bread; he wasn’t sure that his stomach could take meat though. If there was a town nearby, he longed to purchase a pudding or a pie of some sort.

Sitting on a rock outcropping, so that he was very close to the fire, he pulled his bag next to him and rested it against his doe leather boot. There was a metal buckle on the front that he opened and flipped back the covering flap. By the light of the fire, he dug around the old and odd smelling contents till he found what he was looking for. He took out a small leather bag and set it on his knee, then he pulled at the drawstring. Pouring the powdery contents into his hand, he seemed displeased that there was only a pinch of the substance remaining. Shrugging his shoulders, he tossed the powder into the roaring flames. There was a feeling of energy in the air, coming from the fire. He leaned in, straining to see the visions he was summoning.

In his vision, there was young man and a young woman, and he could see that they were just children. He guessed their ages to be between thirteen to fifteen. The girl was a beauty, her long wavy brown hair was contrasted by her bright blue eyes. She was well over five feet tall and was just starting to blossom. The boy had thick brown hair and blue eyes and bore a slight resemblance to the girl. He was leading her by the hand, though she seemed quite capable of walking through the city by herself. He appeared both afraid to be separated from her, and proud to be her protector.

He thought to himself, this is the image that you summoned, they must be the ones that roused you from such a long slumber. He watched them as the boy lead his female friend, no… sister, through a busy city populated by people of all stripes. He watched them for a while, till his fire started to fade. He was worried that he would lose the vision prematurely, till he saw a sign, ‘Goldport Trading’. So, they were in Goldport? That was in Rubina, the neighboring country. He smiled at his good fortune.

He pulled a small package out of his pack and threw it to the ground. The device was automatically activated, it kept unfolding till it was a complete tent, erected and waiting an occupant. Despite his long hibernation, he decided to head down the mountain first thing in the morning. He entered the tent, closed the flap behind him, and in a matter of moments, the air was polluted with the loud sound of his snoring.