Beginning of the End

The distortion is jarring. It feels like a thunderclap inside the skull, a vice around the heart, and more than one person blacks out. Those who don't see the world around them change in an instant. Metal that was bright becomes rusted. Wood becomes covered in rot and moss. Fields are overgrown with wildnerness and cities creak in sudden disrepair. It is clear that months have passed and everything has aged - except living creatures. People and animals are somehow unscathed, left as bewildered as if no time had passed at all.

It takes a few moments before anything can move. When it does all sensations return at once, loudly - normal noises feel deafeningly loud, light and colour are blinding, smells and textures are overwhelming, and the simple feeling of being alive fills the consciousness in a way it rarely does.

Something monstrous surges from the bowels of Telurea, under what remains of Cantor. Shattered earth falls all around as it breaks the surface and rises into the fire-scorched sky above. Therras rises...

Great slabs of bedrock split and tumble as His back shears through the ground. At the same time, colossal roots stronger than any iron thrust out from the soil where He is seated. The earth quakes terrifyingly and for a while it seems as if everyone will be buried alive - but the dust and debris clear to reveal that nearly everything broken is suspended in place by a massive, twisted lattice of roots. Although Soloros is run through, much of it is miraculously still standing. What has truly broken is the seal of earth over Telurea - Therras has ruptured the earth from Soloros down to Riag, and for the first time in millenia it sees open sky. The fires over Cantor still rage, but the cracks radiating from the crater around Therras have exposed new earth to form thin paths through.

There is hope, relief, triumph... and then the searchers realise - He has stopped, as if still frozen in time. The surging magic energy around them proves He has risen, but there's something wrong. He has not completely woken. Suspicion slowly dawns that, if the Telurean myths are right, the Ley Elk was His eyes and ears in the mortal world... and without it He cannot perceive or communicate with them. There's one more obstacle to clear before Therras can truly revive - to somehow return Tharoneos to Alva.

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Notes

Characters have the option now to stay for the final Tharoneos quest or to escape. Those staying will be searching Telurea for clues on how to return Tharoneos. Those escaping can travel out via the cracks created by Therras' rising. There will be mod-hosted activities for the Tharoneos quest prior to and/or during the next event, details TBA.

The survival rate is high - many are injured from falling debris but most people have survived.

Violent floods sweep the north continent, tearing away trees and gouging the landscape. Mist billows up and rain pours down in a relentless cycle that obscures the sky with white, and from within the haze, a writhing silhouette emerges. Mareus rises...

The Thyre glacier is gone, converted to water and mist in an instant. Waves pour from Her towering body, then gather around Her in a wall of whirlpool greater and fiercer than any seen before. From within the depths, long tendrils unfurl and crash into the surrounding sea. The shape of a kraken surfaces from their centre. Covered in vivid blue rings like a thousand eyes, draped with ancient deepsea plants as if it has not moved in centuries, Maraenel rises to takes its place beside Her.

Everyone on the glacier either plunges into the ocean, or grabs onto an aurornis or peryton fast enough to escape into the sky. Those in the air circle looking desperately for those in the water. An immense tidal wave crests over the Frigata Mountains and crashes into land below - sweeping away most of the Shearwater Forest and farmsteads in its path. Water floods into Fulwyt Forest and the Valski lowlands, but most of the mountain country is saved by its altitude. High tides and violent waves reach the coasts of Delverne, Amedra and Song-Lu.

Belporters flee into the city, where the Regent's iron fist curbs their panic. They are housed in a temporary floating neighbourhoods cobbled together from old ships. Valski flee into the mountains east of the capital. The Helvarg take control of the escape while the Margrave is at the glacier. On their skyline, Maelog's Spine shakes and cracks ominously...

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Notes

Mareus' raising is successful. Both She and her Child are fully risen and attentive.

The survival rate is high - the escape/rescue efforts are largely successful. Most fatalities are with Belport's countryside and those who can't swim.

A deafening thunderclap rips through the sky above Orgos. A spectacular flash pierces the eternal night as far as Linhythe city. Deep within the roiling stormclouds, something unfurls. Iridus rises...

The shockwave from Her awakening tears everything violently out of the sky. People, animals and airships are sent tumbling down in a rain of debris. Familiars vanish, stunned back into their own realms. The strange floating crystals shatter into dust. Directly below, the landscape of Orgos is near completely obliterated by the winds. Great waves thrash the west coastline, battering the naval ships anchored there. Those on the ground and sea watch in horror as questers plummet, and race to catch the few they can in nets of magic and alchemy.

Dark, bruised clouds gather around Iridus, illuminated with endless flashes of lightning. A superstorm the size of a country forms with Her at its centre. Hail and tornadoes lash at Linhythe and immense sandstorms smother western Tusa. For miles around, a shrill, never-ceasing hum shakes the air alongside the roar of thunder. Iridus looks undeniably awake, Her wings flaring and closing, yet Her movements are erratic and restricted. Although the space around Her is alive with wind and electricity, there is no other creature there - Iryneia, for reasons unknown, is missing...

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Notes

Iridus' raising is successful but something is wrong. Her Child is missing - though Iridus' wakefulness means it is likely still alive somewhere. Characters can either regather in Linhythe or Tusa for a quest to find Iryneia or disperse to pursue something else.

The survival rate is very low - rescues are few as questers are scattered over a wide area. Those who fall towards the sea have higher chances of being saved thanks to the naval fleets there. Those with flying mounts or familiars may also regain flight before hitting the ground. Between shockwave damage and timeskip decay, most airships cannot be salvaged.

Deep tremors shake the entire peninsula of Song-Lu. Scalding clouds of steam and ash burst from the peaks of the Moonlit Crown with a sound like cannonfire. Long-dormant volcanoes spew lava and within their searing orange glow something - many things - thrash angrily...

The heavy, sinuous shapes of creatures emerge. Maned heads toss furiously and scales shine like molten gold before easing to a deep red. Few know these firsthand but many Songluans recall from statues and paintings: these are weiwu, the rare but revered guardians of the volcanic springs. Even the stories don't tell of weiwu this large and numerous though; together, they trample a chaotic path of destruction down the mountainside. An unending sea of magma flows with them, hissing explosively as it touches the Borealis Ocean.

In the Chancellor's palace, Huozai's gem pours forth a fiery heat that incinerates all around it. Every torch and lantern flares violently, engulfing the rooms in flame. Many flee, yet some wade towards the gem with suddenly vacant faces - including the Chancellor herself. Fire spills from their eyes and wreathes their heads before they all vanish into the blistering haze. Outside, fires break out all over Song-Lu city and ash from the volcanoes rains down. Grimly practiced after the Kingdom's firefall though, the people are swift to evacuate and extinguish - and wonder why, despite this divine-scale calamity, the sixth god Himself is still missing.

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Notes

Huozai has not been raised, though something powerful has definitely stirred.

The survival rate is moderate. The magma is very deadly but it flows mostly eastwards and misses Song-Lu city. The weiwu are fearsome but not unstoppable. The fires are handled well; only at the Chancellor's palace are they uncontrollable.

Deep in the caves beneath the Crescent Shield mountains, an ancient seal cracks and a door splits open. Eerie blue light spills from the gap, illuminating clouds of dust in a dizzying glow. Everything is still for a moment. And then something pulses...

The burst of magic that escapes from the door is so potent it knocks everyone to the ground. Every single explorer in the caves blacks out. As time across Alva jolts forwards, thick layers of dust and moss cover their fallen bodies but no one rouses. This oblivion is deep and lasting - and, for those nearest to the unsealed door, filled with strange, broken snatches of visions.

When they finally wake, they find themselves scattered widely across an unfamiliar mangrove forest. It looks somewhat like Estraude but the air is so heavy it feels difficult to breathe and the trees are dark and warped. Tense and weary, the lost explorers search for each other and a way home. But the mangroves never seem to end, the sky never changes from dusk and a deepening fatigue creeps in the longer they are there. To make matters worse, all magic is found to be completely dead. Wherever they are, it is devoid of ether.

Read More ≫

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Notes

Characters are to gather together and last for about a week in this mysterious place. Please see the link above for more detail on both the visions and new location. A second part with the result on Irana and survival rates will be released later in this interval.

Update: All versions of the visions above are now available here.

The southern horizon of Amedra lights up in a blinding golden flash. A terrible shrieking sound splits the air, cut with a jarring instant of silence as time warps. And then something slams into the eastern coast, boiling the seas into steam and melting the shore into glass...

A scalding mist tears through the countryside just east of the capital, stripping bark from trees and roofs from houses. Heated waves crash over ships and docks. From the epicentre of the impact, an immense spray of molten sand erupts skywards, cooling midair into a twisted glass tower and raining down burning droplets. Wildfires spark across plains already parched by Aurea's eternal daylight.

From the warped beach, a white-hot shape rises. It doesn't look like anything at first but then bird-like wings unfurl and another violent shriek rips the air. It thrashes, convulses and suddenly takes flight, carving a bright path straight towards Amedra city. Within moments it plows into the eastern docks and starts to shred buildings open in a frenzy, as if searching for something. People run, panic, fight - and then abruptly the bird-like creature stops as finds what it is looking for.

It stares down at the princess of East Miras. In a voice that is more meaning than words, it utters,

You Are The First.

And then it snatches her into its beak, in a strike faster than lightning, and tosses its head back to swallow her whole. With a bright, thunderous pulse it takes to the air again and streaks east, south, leaving behind burning ruins without answers.

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Notes

The survival rate is high as the impact was in the countryside and the bright creature, while aggressive, is not interested in fighting. Many suffer burns though, some severe. The creature is about the size of a house, peacock-shaped and composed entirely of white-gold light. It cannot be hurt but it can be hindered or distracted.

An almighty shockwave blasts through the Citadel. Ancient walls rip from their foundations, glass shatters and soldiers of Aurea and Atros are violently thrown back in the same instant. A terrible howl that resonates at every frequency and a crushing, unearthly silence paralyse every soul there...

Atros has landed the first blow, with the blade of light Aurea once impaled Him with. He reaches for the others - searing white and streaming blue-black miasma where they are embedded on His back - all too ready to return to Her the injustices She inflicted on Him. 

Aurea reels back from the attack, but She is only stunned for a moment. Though it is tainted with Atros' essence, the blade was wrought of Her own power and She is resilient to it. She gathers Herself and Her armies, for now it is Her turn.

Both rise tall and send their armies into battle on their auroras. From Aurea's side, golden-white cloud pours over the Citadel, carrying the Oathbound and Her soldiers. From Atros' side, iridescent black mist spews forth, carrying the Risen and His soldiers. The edge where black and white meet swirls and crackles with divine energy. Above them, the Ascended charge through a sky of fragmented day and night to meet each other. At last there is nothing standing in the way of the battle, save for the highest spires of the Citadel jutting from the cloud battlefield - monuments to a world they cast away.

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Notes

The long-awaited battle between Aurea and Atros has begun in earnest. It takes place above the Citadel on a cloud/mist level solid enough to fight on. The Ascended can all fly and fight in the air.

There will be a small mod-hosted activity for the battle during this Interval, details TBA.

The turmoil of warring gods has not yet reached Tusa's heart, however unbeknownst to them, a pulse of energy builds ever so quietly under the sands. It reaches for something ancient and long-lost in the vast desert...

...and then bursts forth as time jolts forwards. In the blink of an eye, half of Tusa's capital is smothered in verdant greenery. Twisting branches, roots and overripe fruit crowd the streets while night-blooming flowers unfurl towards the stars. At the core of this all is the Seed of the World Garden - the legendary Citadel treasure that was buried here months ago, in a Tusar yard.

The garden spreads south into the Vetmia Desert. Blossoming fruit trees thrive miraculously in the dry sand, creating a fragrant open woodland that meanders and thins the further from the Seed it goes. Tangled within roots are strange artifacts: fragments of onyx, shards of glass, half-melted chunks of iron. Most are disfigured beyond recognition but a few bear faded marks that look almost like writing. Cautiously, people venture into the new landscape. They soon find that animals refuse to go near the trees but aside from this, the woodland seems peaceful. Peaceful and deathly quiet.

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Notes

Characters can explore this new woodland and take broken pieces of artifacts freely. For those who wish to investigate the writing-like marks: post-Revolution, Tusa's public archives were flooded with records reclaimed from private collections. They are thus both rich in new knowledge and highly disorganised.

Tusa city is far away enough from the gods' awakenings to be unharmed by them.

In the lightless depths around Nisalvini, a different kind of growth stirs. As sea currents swirl restlessly in the wake of the godly risings, the volatile plantlife convulses with yet another change...

The seabed shivers, disturbed by both Therras' awakening and unseen tendrils winding beneath the rock. In the meadow of kelp where Skotodini Forest used to stand, tall trunks of intertwined vines surge upwards. Huge frills and fans of seaweed cover them until, within hours, a dense underwater jungle towers over Nisalvini's hills. Once the growth slows enough for people to approach, the uncanny shape of the whole forest is realised: the snake-like trees bend around each other to form a circular tunnel of sorts, its vast mouth open towards the city. The crushing darkness of the deep sea obscures where it leads, but it seems to stretch indefinitely eastwards, into the Jewel Sea.

Such a strange phenomenon can neither bode well nor be ignored. A scouting party is quickly organised by the Fintáni to venture into the tunnel and find some hint about its existence. As they swim into the watery darkness, those left behind work to extend Nisalvini's shields into the tunnel's mouth. Anxiously they wait - and hope - for the explorers' safe return.

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Notes

Characters can either venture into the tunnel or stay behind in Nisalvini. The tunnel is large enough for a whale to swim through and disturbing deep-sea creatures may be glimpsed within. Those staying behind will soon receive news about the state of Therras' quest.

Nisalvini is far away enough from the gods' awakenings to be unharmed by them, though the combination of rampant virether and marether gives shamanistic healers a headache.

Upon their battleground of cloud and spires and broken sky, the soldiers of Aurea and Atros rise to face the battle they were made for. The glory promised in their destinies begins now...

This part consists of the Battle of the Spires mini-game, which will run for one week. All mains and sides who are accepted as of the game start and canonically at the Citadel battle may participate.

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Click through here to play:

❖ Battle of the Spires Game ❖

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Battle Conclusion

The first wave of the Battle of the Spires belonged to Atros' army. The margin was razor-thin and little more than luck, but they grasped that chance and turned the tide in their favour with the capture of crucial spires. Aurea's army struck back with a vengeance. They launched an organised and defensively strong assault against the chaos of Atros' side, one that all but cleared their opponents from the battlefield...

...All but a handful, including one who slipped through defenses and took the chance to charge Aurea's home spire. Aurea's defenders quickly and fiercely repelled him - but their caution was their undoing. Their falling back created an opening and Atros' soldiers took it. Before Aurea's vanguard could reach their own home spire, Atros' army descended on Aurea's with as many bodies as they could muster. Aurea's side rushed back to defend; Her Chosen Three had been sent to attack and were too far away, but enough remained to meet their attackers evenly. It was a ferocious battle - too close to call right down to the last moment. In that last moment, it was Atros' army who seized victory. They beat back the last of Aurea's defense; Her forces had no choice but to retreat from their former stronghold. Eternal night for all of Alva inched a little closer.

Before either army can press their advantage or bounce back from defeat, great spears of magic belonging to neither pierce the clouds. Underneath them on the Citadel grounds, an enormous spell the likes of which they have never seen before locks the air around them. The spellcasters are humans, and they are led by the Emperor and Empress of Koben.

Streams of binding magic tailored for light and dark lash the battlefield. Space shimmers with the distortion of dimensional portal magic. The voices of the twin gods thunder through the sky as They rise to strike back, and find They too - They especially - are shackled by the spell. But They are Gods, Their armies are with Them, and there is no mortal who can stand against Them...

And then, to the surprise and horror of all, They shatter. Aurea splinters into white-hot shards of pure light. Atros likewise shears into pitch-black fragments of pure dark. Some of their pieces are snatched by the spell - but most hurtle away in an explosion of power that obliterates the part of Citadel directly underneath. The grand spires are no more.

The divine armies descend upon the Citadel, lost and hungry for revenge - but there is nothing to seek revenge against. Below them is just a wasteland of rubble and broken remnants of shields. Whatever surviving spellcasters are left, if any, are needles in a haystack. But despite everything, they can still feel the presence of Aurea and Atros in the world - after all, Gods do not die. All is not lost. As their collective thoughts calm, the armies leave the ruined Citadel. They retreat into the sky, to fortresses of magic woven by the Ascended. There is no time to waste on mortals. The mission now is to gather and join the lost pieces of their god, before the other side can do so for theirs.

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Notes

All soldiers present at the Citadel battle are to retreat to the floating fortresses for their side. These are created by the Ascended using the lightsmith/darksmith abilities, and made based on places familiar to them - a thin remnant of their previous selves. The 'architecture' is thus a mishmash of many things. The mission for all divine armies is now to look for and bring back the pieces of Aurea/Atros. More detail on how to do so will be released later.

The survival rate is very low for the spellcasters at the Citadel. However, unbeknownst to the divine armies, not all of the Citadel's shields are broken. Certain central buildings are still safe under special shields that are remarkably like the Telurean shields if anyone would recognise them. Unfortunately, only people who were already at or very close to those locations would survive; there was very little time to run.

It has been days since the explorers were stranded in the strange mangrove and things have only gotten stranger. There is no doubt now that they are being followed - some have glimpsed tall, twisted figures staring out from the shadows of trees, almost indistinguishable from the warped trunks. A deep instinct tells the explorers to keep their distance and so they do, staying constantly on the move.

In the times they have stopped long enough to investigate their surroundings, they have gathered everything that may provide a clue: cracked tablets of indecipherable text, broken tools, dull and faded crystals... and, most remarkably, two people. The strangers stumbled out of the trees one day and seem to have been transported recently from Estraude as well. Together, they all search for a way home.

But tension and weariness sap the explorers' strength, until their consciousness fades in and out. Just when it seems like they cannot continue, another person suddenly appears across the shallow water - the Consul of Estraude.

He captures them in a hasty spell and in an instant, the explorers are back in Estraude's capital, sprawled across the floor of a city hall. Healers rush to attend to them. Soon, they learn that no fire deity has been found but the caves of Irana have flooded with an unknown type of ether. All who approach the caves now vanish in a burst of blue flames. The two strangers they had met in the other realm also have not come back with them; for whatever reason, the spell failed to seize them. From city records, it seems both went missing from Estraude about five days ago, along with several others - including the Apostle of Therras. None seem related to each other. Mysteries deepen and something in Alva stirs, but for now the explorers recover.

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Notes

Irana has not been raised, but hints of a greater mystery have been uncovered.

The survival rate is very high. Almost all of the unconscious explorers were rescued from the caves before it flooded with ether. Those returned from the other realm will need a few days of bedrest for the fatigue, but otherwise they are well. Once recovered, they can choose to investigate either: the unknown ether from the caves of Irana, the missing people from Estraude, or the items retrieved from the other realm.

Water and mist are still pouring from the north continent when another tremor shakes the land. This time it does not come from Mareus, who continues to slowly rise and unfurl from the sea. This time it comes from Valsk's tallest mountains, the mighty range known as Maelog's Spine.

Long has Valski legend told of Maelog, a dark and terrible dragon who sleeps beneath the peaks and awaits the command of her night-reigning king. Long have the Valski people been careful to pass down the stories so that none may disturb her. But as myths reawaken all around Alva, so does another: the north horizon crumbles, mountains split apart and a dark head emerges. It turns towards the sky, tasting the world for the first time in an eternity, and breathes.

Once again, Maelog rises to serve her sovereign.

Maelog’s jaws open. The icy air clouds around her and then a thunderous roar tears from her throat, shaking the bones of the very continent. Every person and animal in the north feels it - a rattling inside the blood, a rush of adrenaline. As one, every aurornis dragon turns their bright head in Maelog’s direction and stares.

Across Alva, dragons of all kinds do the same. From placid briartails to lonesome cragmaws, they stop and face north, as if listening to something only they can hear. Maelog tosses her head and the sharp crack of splitting ice echoes in the air. Seams open in her blackened hide. Glowing rivulets of magma suddenly spill down her scales as a golden light burns to life in her eyes.

The ice melts and billows off her in columns of steam. A blinding radiance enfolds her before unfurling into blade-like wings that stretch from horizon to horizon. With a single stroke, they lift her into the sky like a second sun.

It is clear, suddenly and despite everything, that Maelog - the greatest dragon of destruction to ever walk Alvan legends -  serves Aurea.

In Belport, the aurornis lift their heads and shriek in clamorous celebration. Without hesitation they all leap into the sky as well, leaving behind whatever tasks or people they had been helping. In the mountains and royal stables of Miras, the cinden dragons burst from their constraints in a fiery fury, joining the migration in the sky. And all over Valsk, ice wyverns flock down from the tundra in numbers never seen before. They shed their grey skins under Maelog’s light and, beneath the dull guise they have worn for so long, their hides gleam a glorious red and gold just like hers.

It does not stop there. The seas tremble in the wake of Maelog’s rallying roar as yet more legends stir. From the Circen Sea, a serpentine head rises: Leviathan, the dragon who tamed the tides of Belport. Beneath Linhian docks, a maw draped with gold opens: the crest dragon and keeper of Linhythe Bay. All over the north and west of Alva, the oceans heave as every dragon of myth comes alive.

For all dragons, all serpents, all scaled creatures who bask in the sun belong to the goddess of the day, Aurea.

These words echo in the mind and mouth of the oriad Circe. Amidst the floods of Belport, a giddiness overtakes her and her blood burns with a warmth at once familiar and new. The thoughts keep bubbling unbidden to her, as if the soul of someone else has broken through in excitement.

They are back, a voice inside her exults. All twelve of Aurea’s generals are back.

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Notes

Twelve legendary dragons have risen from the seas of Alva. For now, they all head towards Maelog, who in turn heads towards the Citadel. Dragons such as the aurornis, cinden and ice wyvern (now in their true form, the mael wyvern) are flocking to join them. Not every dragon species in Alva does this, though all seem aware of what is happening. A design activity for the twelve dragon generals will be released later (soon) in this interval.

A memory and quest for the First Oriad Circe has been unlocked here. Another memory can be unlocked if she follows the dragons to the Citadel and meets the First Oriad, Ninny. If Ninny completes a companion piece (or collaborates) for this quest, they will also unlock a memory.

The awakening roar of Maelog reaches not only her dragon brethren beneath the seas, but something else buried even deeper. Off the southern coast of Iadlain, the ocean froths and churns. A whirlpool the size of a country opens above the God’s Coffin Trench. It deepens into an unfathomable abyss before something bursts from its centre. Pale as the moon, crowned with a single horn, an immense unicorn’s head rises from the sea.

But it is not a unicorn. The creature rises up and up, until it towers above the continent. Bone-like limbs stretch from it, webbed with ragged fins. Slowly, it lifts its maned head and lets out a long, sonorous cry that vibrates in the skull of all who hear it. It sounds like the final toll of a bell. It sounds like death.

A cacophony of chiming voices echoes from the forests of Wispwood and the Molvahain. The cold glow of wisps flickers in the treetops like a million eyes opening. Across Alva, spirit creatures of all kinds watch the southern skies, while all those who would answer it chorus eerily above the Citadel, already gathered in the dark fortress where they need to be. From the God’s Coffin Trench, another vast, ghostly figure rises above the water to follow the first - then another, and another, until they form an unearthly procession through the night sky.

Floating under the endless stars of the Vetmia Desert, Vesperian and Atria simultaneously turn towards the south as the bell-like voice sounds. Before Atria can even wonder where the words come from, the names drop from her mouth: Salecus. Lucernae. Vipera. Duabus. Carta. Venator. Caetus. Brenthos. Ursus. Cervos. Pristis. Luter.

Vesperian recognises each one from the scriptures of stars they had perused in Reluir, and the realisation comes to both oriads.

Lost but not forgotten. Even without understanding why, the people of this era still looked to the evening sky and painted it with memories. The constellations, the zodiac of Alva, were all pictures of the greatest generals of Atros, deity of the night.

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Notes

The twelve generals of Atros have awoken from the God’s Coffin Trench and now glide together across the sky towards the Citadel. The eldritch creatures who would follow them are already at the Citadel, having marched there with the Ascended and Risen armies of Atros.

A memory for the First Oriad Atria has been unlocked here. Her quest from the War of Ancients event will unlock a more detailed memory now if she follows it to Tusa city or the garden spreading from it.

A design activity for the generals of both Aurea and Atros is now available to all! Details on submission and design outlines are below.

No part of Alva is untouched by the cataclysmic rise of the gods or their war, but for some the worst passes them by - for now.

Delverne is eerily quiet as the majority of their people battle for Aurea far away in the Citadel. Streets and houses stand empty, schools and shops are closed without keepers, and a feeling of hushed anticipation hangs in the air. Those left behind can only pray for the victory and safe return of their brethren. When Maelog rises, the sky flares with the fiery radiance of countless dragons soaring north and snakes of all kinds emerge to watch the pilgrimage. It is a reverent and miraculous sight.

In Miras, where dragons were harnessed for their use in war, their journey is not so peaceful. Stables burst into flames as frenzied cinden dragons tear their way out, sending people and animals fleeing. Their rampage through the city is thankfully limited though, as they each take to the sky as swiftly as they can to rejoin their generals. The destruction left in their wake is quickly doused, amid confusion and fear as the north burns with Maelog’s light and the south trembles with Therras’ earthquakes.

In the same moment that Mareus awakens, a tremor shakes the mountains around upper Koben. It loosens a flock of agitated kralspitzers into the sky and, horrifyingly, opens a split in the great hydrodam that towers over the city. Repairs are urgently dispatched and authorities assure everyone that things are under control, but word spreads of how a Wissen facility has been sealed off due to inexplicable flooding. There seems to be no immediate danger, but it’s another uneasiness stacked upon many others.

Bratkowice watches as the bloodstained trees of the Molvahain come alive with the glow of wisps and haunting songs for Salecus. Iadlain too hunkers warily at the strange cacophony echoing through Wispwood and ghostly generals passing overhead, but neither region seems to be threatened with any worse than they have already been. The Molvahain still holds its tenuous border and Wispwood’s monsters still roam freely.

The songs fade at the border to Reluir, as the forest gives way to broken isles. In the dark sky, Atros’ generals can be glimpsed as they march towards the Citadel. What remains of the region is deathly silent. Most of the population is gone now - succumbed to ascension or starvation, or departed to Tusa and Iadlain for refuge. The few left survive however they can: in the north, former nobles hoard their resources tightly; in the east, old fishing towns rely on the sea; in the south, peasants band together to recultivate the land. One village, run by former rebels, manages to grow into some semblance of stability: Tìr Torclann.

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A few short days after the most devastating effects of the gods’ rise, the coalescing form of Mareus twists suddenly with a forcefulness not yet seen. Although parts of Her are still gathering, She wrenches Her entire body upwards and turns a piercing gaze towards the Citadel of Crowns. A deep thrum shakes all that belongs to Her realm - the waves of the ocean, the dew on leaves, the blood inside veins. Tides pull back across Alva and then unleash with a fury upon the Citadel. Massive limbs of seawater crash over broken spires. Whirlspouts lunge at the armies roosting overhead. Within moments a swirling dome of water has encased the Citadel entirely, like a serpent wrapped around treasure.

The fortresses of Aurea and Atros swiftly pull back, higher into the sky, to escape Mareus’ reach. A ripple that feels much like anger passes through the minds of those favoured by Her. It is a clean, scouring anger - not malevolent, but unyielding. The seas of Alva froth and billow up into clouds, and a heavy veil of rain begins to fall from the north and west skies. To the fire-razed lands of Cantor, Amedra and Song-Lu, it is a relief. But to the armies of Aurea and Atros, each raindrop feels like a claw seeking a way into their fortress.

You won’t escape.

The thought comes to Blue suddenly, leagues beneath the ocean in Nisalvini. All around her the water feels alive for a second, as if she was one with it. An inexplicable certainty and familiar urgency strike her heart: they must not escape. The terrible creations of Aurea and Atros, the generals, who were sealed within the seas by Mareus Herself, cannot be allowed to escape.

Because the world could not survive them then, and cannot survive them now.

All over Alva, the ocean roars as the goddess of water returns to the ancient war.

____________________

Notes

This is the final part of the Beginning of the End interval. In-verse, the happenings of this interval span about a week, with most occurring in the first few hours.

A memory and quest for the First Oriad Blue has been unlocked here. Another memory can be unlocked if she shares a bonding moment with a friend or witnesses them being hurt (minor is fine).