I am a summoner who walked the long road from Mileth's wizard halls to the storm-wracked shores of Medenia. I have learned that dreams are not mere wishes--they are what makes us more than Mundanes, the fire that transforms student into master, novice into adept.

The countless hours spent mastering all four elements--fire, wind, water, and earth--the sacrifices made for every insight of Torch, Keeter, Mermaid, and Groo, and the ambition that burns brighter than any summoned flame have forged my soul in ways few can understand.

I remember the first time I summoned Torch, how the fire answered not just my words, but The Spark within me. When I first called Keeter's gale, I felt the wind acknowledge a kinship. The day Mermaid rose to my summons, water's deepest mysteries opened before me. And when Groo's earthen form first took shape at my command, I felt the ancient patience of stone accept my will.

In that moment--when the elements themselves bow to you--you know The Spark has made you something beyond what you once were. I'm trying to put into words what that felt like--that moment when I stopped just surviving and started truly living as the Aisling I was meant to be.

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What is an Aisling without dreams?
A Spark unkindled, cold and still,
A soul that wanders, lost it seems,
A flame that gutters, weak of will.

I walked the ancient wizard's way,
Srad, Athar, Sal, and Creag I knew,
But Medenia's call within me lay--
For power flowing fresh and new.

I crossed the waters dark and deep,
Left behind the borrowed flame,
Where Torch and Keeter secrets keep,
And elements whisper my true name.

Coins counted out--gods, thousands paid,
A lifetime's wealth and vigor spent,
For power born of will's sharp blade--
Each spell a trial, each insight lent.

Torch blazing forth in crimson light,
Keeter's gale that howls and sings,
Mermaid's depths of blue so bright,
Groo's earth from which all power springs.

When Stone Skin grants me earthen might,
And Bubble Block holds danger at bay,
My Fiery Defender joins the fight--
Beyond what wizards could display.

In Loures' Library, hall of lore,
I read the warnings carved in stone,
That death may scar The Spark I bore--
Yet dreams have claimed me as their own.

What is an Aisling without dreams?
A wizard with empty hands,
A king without The Spark's bright gleams,
A master with no faithful bands.

Through Medenia's storms I make my way,
Through trials that nearly broke my will,
To stand as master of fire's play,
Earth's strength, and water's ancient skill.

For what is mastery but a dream
Made flesh through will and sacrifice?
What is a crown but what we dream?
What is power but the price?

So let me dream, and let me strive,
For in dreams, all elements bend,
In dreams, my spirit comes alive--
In dreams, all journeys find their end.

I am flame dancing on wind's breath,
I am water carved by stone,
I am dreams beyond death's reach--
In dreams, all elements are my own