You arrive at Issar Roon’s study in hopes that you will find the old man ensconced within. While you enjoyed much of the reading you did on your last visit, you prefer the old man’s stories to words on paper. You are happy to find the door slightly ajar—a good sign that the old man is present.

You push open the old, oak door to find the old man exactly where you expect him, reading yet another tomb of forgotten lore or magical mythology. Before he has a chance to respond to your presence, you take a quick look around the study to find even more change has occurred. In addition to the tidied bookshelves, the majority of the old man’s desk has been arranged neatly. What few books remain have been stacked with others of similar sizes. All writing implements lie together, and any lose sheets of parchment are separated in an orderly pile.

Good evening. You seem excited. Did you miss this brittle bag of bones? I will take that as a compliment.

It is time we go back to the archives. I have additional tales to tell; some you will find important, and others merely interesting. Our time is running out, and there is still much to teach you.

With no further explanation, the old man grabs his gnarled cane and shuffles past. You hurry to catch up, knowing the path is too confusing to find your own way.

As you descend, you notice the air growing warmer. At first, you wonder why, but you then realize that you are far below the depth any winter frost is able to penetrate. With no outside air, the temperature remains steady throughout the year in these passageways. The remainder of your journey is occupied by thoughts of your depth and construction methods of underground vaults.

You don’t remember arriving, but in what feels like a moment, the old man is gesturing through a thick door. The room is familiar, with bookshelves crowding the entrance, making it difficult to move about. After you squeeze through the books, scrolls, and other tombs of history, you find yourself again in an open reading space. This time, you look up without guidance.

Just above head level are hung paintings spaced evenly along the entire room—or as much of it as you are able to see. You know it is these that the old man has brought you here for, and you act accordingly.

The first painting the old man brings you to is quite simple. The frame is made of wood, expensive, and well made, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary. The subject is a lone statue in a sitting position. A name below reads simply, “Jade Statue.”

I retrieved this painting from an eccentric art collector on Dominaria. He did not collect art for its quality, but its significance within his perceived relation to important events or people. This particular piece was difficult to attain, as it is the only known work of art created specifically in relation to Norin the Wary.

Norin the Wary was a mythological character among Dominarians during the Dark. Perhaps it’s incorrect to call him mythological, as he was a very real human present during that age—one with no exceptional abilities, I might add. Yet, an aura of legend grew up around the man thanks to his utter cowardice. He was so well known for a time that people often called each other “Norin” when someone refused to do something he was afraid of. This particular statue was the target of his very first expedition.

The old man steps over to the next painting. The frame is black and charred, as if it had sat in embers of a strong fire. The canvas within remains untouched, leading to thoughts of whether the wood is truly burnt or just carved in that style. It’s titled “Shivan Dragon.”

Learn this image well. If you see a dragon like this in person, hope that he has not seen you—or else be prepared to fight an arduous battle, for this is a Shivan Dragon, the most powerful race of red dragons on Dominaria. They are extremely intelligent beings that take great pride in their race and power, and any challenge will be answered swiftly. They have been known to aid wizards when it suits their whims, but do not count on a Shivan Dragon ever being friendly.

The next frame makes you blink multiple times to make sure your eyes are working correctly. Where wood grains should be are soft tones of white, blue, and yellow, shifting endlessly, as though they were attempting to find a new pattern, but were unable to hold it. Its tag reads, “Amulet of Kroog.”

This is a famous painting on Dominaria, and it has been replicated many times over the years. This particular piece is the fourth iteration—the earliest I was able to acquire, and perhaps the earliest that still survives. The amulet depicted is known as an Amulet of Kroog.

As thanks for joining his cause so quickly, Urza gave these amulets to the healers of Kroog. They were personally created by Urza, and they enhanced the healer’s abilities greatly. After the war, thousands came to Kroog in search of their healers, granting them notoriety for their abilities. While they were competent physicians from the start, Urza’s gift made them exceptional.

The fourth is a frame of what can only be described as leaves. The shape and solidity appears to mimic wood, but forms and slight shadows separate each leaf clearly. It’s marked, “Shanodin Dryads.” Before you have time to consider how a frame of leaves is able to hold canvas, the old man begins speaking.

Shanodin Dryads are infamous for their secrecy. Very few beings have ever seen one, and even fewer have done so without a dryad’s knowledge. Their forest, Shanodin, lies on an island at the southeastern edge of the archipelago known as The Domains. It is not a friendly forest, and many have learned never to set foot within it without reason. What makes this land so significant when compared to other forested areas of Dominaria is the actual dryads. In no other place within the multiverse have I found such a concentration of dryads.

The old man points to the next painting, one surrounded by a frame of dull metal, and which reads “Hurloon Minotaurs.”

This is a much more common subject than many of the paintings within this room, but its significance should not be ignored. Hurloon sits at the lynchpin of The Domains’ main island of Aerona, and the minotaurs sit on Hurloon’s throne. Anyone wishing to cross over land between the two ends of Aerona must go through the Hurloon Mountains, and thus, the minotaurs. If one is respectful and causes no trouble, the journey runs quick and smooth as a spring brook, but if one does not honor the minotaurs’ land, one will soon find oneself at the base of a cliff.

The Hurloon Minotaurs have a fascinating culture. Though they do not leave the mountains very often, they do interact with the other peoples of Aerona—mostly in the trade of valuable metals that lie within the Red Iron Mountains. They also sing hymns to the dead, friend or enemy, that last for days. One of my fondest memories of Aerona is one of traveling through those mountains while hearing the echoes of the minotaurs’ hymns. I have not heard another sound like it in all of my travels.

The old man grows distant for a moment. When he returns, his attention lies somewhere beyond the room you stand in.

That is enough for now. Come back to me next week. Our time here is almost done.

The old man then walks off, leaving you alone in the room. Realizing that you have no idea how to return to the monastery, you quickly run after the old man.