As you walk the streets of any Elanthian city, you'll notice that many of the inhabitants wear symbols of the moon - an earring, perhaps, or a pendant. Some merely like the way it looks, but for many, it's a sign of their devotion to Zelia, the Goddess of the Moon.

Zelia, as you probably know, is the Goddess of the Moons and of Insanity. That sounds harmless enough. Certainly, her realm is less terrifying than that of many of the other Arkati. But her danger to mortals is insidious, indeed, and the damage her gifts wreak are all around us.

It is said that when she deigns to manifest herself to mortals, she often takes the form of a woman with large green eyes and silver hair that always seems to be blowing wildly about her face. She wears a silver breastplate and a grey tunic, and drives a chariot pulled by grey stallions. Those who publically demonstrate their devotion to her will wear her symbol, a silver crescent moon on a field of black.

Many misguided souls will honour Zelia with their worship, as she seems to be a gentle Goddess. Certainly, she doesn't kill her followers or her opposition, nor does she enjoy hurting anyone. There's a popular saying - we all go a little crazy now and then. But what would life be like if we were all crazy all the time?

Recently, I witnessed a strange ritual dedicated to the Luminous One. A friend took me to Melgoran's Reach, and we ascended the mountain. Zelia's altar is atop the pile of stone, and it is a lovely onyx construction. When we entered the chamber, there were several other people already in attendance. All was dark and still.

Suddenly, the altar was bathed in moonlight. For an instant, I was entranced by the beauty of the light, but my awe soon turned to horror. Her light triggered an amazing display from the assembled throng. One woman laughed without stopping, running around in circles until she fell on the floor, foaming at the mouth. Another tore at her clothes and tried to eat the pieces she managed to render. My friend, touched by the madness, turned to me and began to recite hideous poetry while systematically destroying a pillow. The feathers flying through the air inspired another man to attempt to fly, and as he sailed off the edge into the mist, I could hear his screams of glee before the inevitable impact.

The light disappeared, and everyone in the chamber instantly assumed a semblance of normalcy. My friend began to tell me of some special properties that the altar possessed, but I'm not sure that this wasn't more gibberish. I backed away from him and began the arduous journey back down the mountain alone.

When I returned to town, I immediately went to my locker and retrieved my crescent moon earring, which I promptly threw into the nearest wastebasket. I am haunted by my experience, and this thought lingers still - how many of her followers walk among us? How many souls can shed their sanity in an instant? Would the resulting utter chaos destroy civilization - and if we were all touched by her gift, would we even care?