Prophecies; Volumes of Essrethet the Silver: The Aurian Prophecy
Before Man had learned to record things in calendars, there were the demigods—who were the mightiest of men.
And EX'ÀOMË blessed them with longevity beyond other men.
Such was HIS gift that they might find comfort in the world's many gardens.
Though their numbers scattered across the Terra, they would soon be driven by oath or prophecy to gather in the west.
Then a humble sculptor came to live among the elves on Alanor.
The Ar Galahadrim knew that there were some that were more gifted than others.
Those who could move the world with their words or actions.
They who had The Gift were called Sӧrcérë, and could make rain on a clear day or bend mountains into roads.
Their Gifts attracted many others who yearned for them and took them as leaders.
Thus these Gifted elves became the lords of the people.
For a time, they settled the lands of Alanor and brought abundance to the gardens east of the world.
The sculptor in their presence, who was called Pygmalion, carved many works from stone.
It was from the elves that he learned this trade.
He settled in the Forest of the Lady of Silver.
He learned craft, song, and all the Gifts.
Millëon, who was lord of the Forest of Golden Trees, taught Pygmalion how to build towers, that he might spread his Gifts far and wide.
This art man would use greatly, and so erected many towers across the world.
Farfëanír, once held as the King of the Fair Meadows of Alantír, taught him to sculpt.
Yet soon, his Gifts surpassed all his teachers.
He was then appraised by the Gods as the greatest of his age.
But it was Essrethet the Silver who called him into Her confidence.
For She had foreseen a terrible omen.
At the most hallowed vale of the Silver Forest, she spoke:
"I have called you–demigod–to tell you your fate.
As it was written by angry hands, to bring you and all things to an end."
Pygmalion stood before the Silver Serpent—unafraid to admire Her beauty:
"Oh my Lady of Silver, tell Pygmalion whatever you wish.
Only this: that I may sculpt this figure as you speak.
For my hands itch to work the stone now that I have seen you."
Essrethet did permit this, and gave him a block of quicksilver for which to sculpt.
But Her words made his hands tremble.
"Very well, but you are Pygmalion no longer.
Now you shall be called Providence, and you will gather the demigods who have scattered themselves afar.
I have seen your fate and tell you it now:
You will spend fifteen more years here on Alanor.
I and the Galahadrim shall endeavor to give you all knowledge required for your journey into the west.
In the foretold time, you will leave us and spend ten years at sea.
On the shattered lands of Iseer, be captured by pirates and you will teach them to live as men ought.
Though your pride will be injured, you will be graceful.
Henceforth, you shall learn to make works of men instead of stone.
At the scar where the Haraush'teth called Sodomus harmed the land, behold the life and vigor he has stolen from it.
You shall see how he has robbed the people there of dignity and decency.
This you will bear witness as you walk among the people of the Azuna Desert.
And they shall tempt you with their most beautiful maidens.
But hold steadfast in your faith and in three years, you will leave them.
Farther west, shall you meet the king of Ocaton.
You and he will form a bond on that day that endures sixty years.
Then you will slay your friend the king in battle.
As you cross the Rea Bluffs into the Heartlands, my brother will tempt you thrice into sin.
In the city of Helm along the Bathoros River you shall be robbed of all you own.
At last–forty years from your departure–you shall reach the far west.
A fertile land lies nestled by hills there, and you will find the base of Mount Āther at its east end.
This land shall be dubbed the Sunlight Plains.
It shall be home for your people, the demigods.
Rule them for seventy-five years.
After which, your death shall be painless and quick.
It shall be delivered unto you by eyes which beheld the Mouthpiece of Truth.
Your legacy shall thus endure for fourteen generations, three of which will be regencies.
At the reign of the last King of Aurumere, fate decrees the death of the demigods."
It was then that Providence's shaken hand–which clutched the chisel tightly–was struck by the hammer.
He cracked the vessel and marred the wings as he worked.
King Providence rejected his destiny, as it was compelled of him.
"You lie, Lady of Silver—or of tarnished metal!
I won't perform a task for you that demands my people's end."
Essrethet accepted Providence's anger and fear.
"Be not blinded by your rage, there is a path yet to take."
Providence threw down his hammer and chisel and accused Her:
"You cannot make me to serve your prophecy!"
"I have told you the choices you shall make yourself."
"There must be a worthier man for you to appoint this task.
Give another such labors—I am merely a sculptor!"
But Essrethet knew his heart and guided him to courage:
"Be strong, Providence—King of the demigods.
Your line will not end despite its death.
There is grace prepared in your fate, for THE ONE would not leave you to suffer at the hands of Destiny."
"I am afraid," said the king.
"That too has been seen in your fate.
Move with the grace of Heaven and we shall be the wind at your back.
This I vow on my name: Essrethet the Silver.
Do not forsake this responsibility and we shall not forsake you."
Prophecies; Volumes of Az: Vow of Anétoth
It was following the fall of Aurumere and Effinitia that there came a woman into the service of V'thoth.
He who was the Mágëa-King of Sophëa.
This woman, V'thoth took from the masses of his thralls.
He raised her from the throng of his slaves, for her Gift was too potent to squander.
And she would rise as the first woman to learn magic in Effinitia.
Her powers outstripped every apprentice within the seasons.
She became favored by the king, who declared her his official successor.
He named her Anétoth.
But he did not know that under his shadow, she served a different master.
In the darkness of the wizard's undercity was a creature of scornful demeanor.
A Spider wove silver silk in the heart of Sophëa.
From this, V'thoth crafted his many spires, arches, and wheels.
Of silver silk derived the manifold tools which made the majesty of the great Sophëa.
Anétoth thus followed this thread, and the Spider came to offer her a pact in secret.
"Who are you—thing of secrecy that hides in my master's shadow?"
And the Spider spoke:
"I am a collector; a keeper of precious things.
No want is greater than this: to own.
I am covetous of essence."
Anétoth was wary of the Spider, but she held a curious nature in her heart.
The Spider had shown her such brilliant silver silk, and its eight eyes like cut crimson jasper.
Despite wisdom, her greed for power bid her to converse.
She inquired of the arachnid:
"How did you come to be here, weaving this silver silk?"
"This was our covenant, which I made with your master.
It was he who came to me in darkness—seeking power to overthrow his fellow apprentices in the days of King Mēnoth.
I gifted him a scepter of silver which was of my own making—and these threads.
A bargain for what I gained in return."
"And what did you gain?"
"A new item to take into my collection, for that is what I do."
Anétoth beheld the Spider's treasure vault.
There inside, she found the souls of innumerable mortals.
Each was held in a crystal phylactery and dangled by threads in a tapestry of silk.
She perceived from among the many gleams that her own master's soul was within the collection.
Anétoth then grew quite ambitious.
For she knew then that her master had made a bargain with the Spider.
He had seized the throne of Sophëa by blood.
Thus, she too came to desire the Spider's gifts, that she might walk in her mentor's footsteps and seize power as he had.
"Then will you bargain with me?
Give me power as you did my master, that I might overthrow him.
In return, I shall gift you all the souls of Sophëa."
The Spider did not accept at once:
"I do not trade in merely any souls.
It is the ones of exception that I desire—yours would suit my fancy."
"But this is not for sale, for I require my soul after all.
It is in there that my master embedded my spells."
The Spider was a merchant of many souls, and a trader of artifacts bearing evil potency.
Thus, he haggled his way to Anétoth's soul.
"Do not fear to part with it.
For I will give you a soul of equal value—only the color shall be different.
This, and no more.
If your spells you fear to lose, then I will carve new ones into the soul I give you.
And they shall be stronger—better than what your master has given you.
As I am their source, they shall be the source of your might.
Is this not an acceptable trade?"
"But my mentor is no feeble man—even in sickness.
His silver scepter bends lightning to its wielder's whim, and he has inherited Mēnoth's ability to kill with a look."
"This too I have foreseen, for his scepter has a fatal vulnerability.
I crafted it myself, and so it is that I can craft for you the perfect weapon to unmake it.
For his Death Gaze, it will not be usable in the days to come.
Effinitia is destined to fall."
From the Spider's persuasion, Anétoth then accepted the pact.
Her powers became as such quite different from her master's magic.
For theirs was of a different kind of spell.
When the Black Curse struck Effinitia, she alone remained unaffected.
For her magic was of a foreign source—not born within her vessel.
Her master, V'thoth, was taken most cruelly by its influence.
And in his sickness, Anétoth came to take command of the city.
She threw down the old king, and shattered his legendary silver scepter.
Then she took the city of Sophëa that floated high in the clouds.
It was set upon the sands of the Azuna Desert.
There she established her domain, brief though it was.
Her entrance to the desert marked the beginning of a new age.
Anétoth then became master to eight apprentices, each of whom was a woman.
But the patriarchs of Effinitia would rebel against her rule.
Their rebellion was of no consequence.
For she was powerful beyond the humbled archons.
They, whose greatest wizards and Mágëa-Kings were killed by the curse.
So easily she threw them down and ascended her apprentices into mastery.
And they who were the masters became the thralls to her malice.
But Anétoth grew careless, and did not see her own shadow darkening.
Behind her gaze, a secret covenant was formed.
One day, the first apprentice returned bearing eight daggers—one each for her sisters and one for her.
These daggers they used to betray their master and cast down Anétoth's realm.
For each one was as if tailor-made to unmake her false soul:
Iron Witch Delilah plunged the first dagger into her back.
Dawn Witch Amara plunged the second into her ribs—trembling.
Black Witch Vanessa plunged the third into her shoulder; her body aflame in black.
Storm Witch Evelyn plunged the fourth into her stomach.
Flame Witch Jezebel plunged the fifth into her neck—a tear in her eye.
Blood Witch Cassandra plunged the sixth into her lungs—and drank of her blood.
Glass Witch Miranda plunged the seventh into her eye.
Last was Snow Witch Isobel, whom Anétoth had loved as her own daughter.
She cried frozen tears as the dagger sank into her heart.
And when the deed was nearly done, the witches quartered her limbs and gouged her eyes.
This they took with her blood and marked themselves.
Such they endeavored to carry the sin forever.
But Anétoth's rage begot of something far beyond her body.
Her voice echoed on the Foul Winds:
"A curse on you all!
Though my body is gone, my resentment will not rest so long as my daughters live.
I will now tell you what you shall each suffer in your last waking moments:
First, each of you shall know what it is to have your limbs plucked.
You will know what it is to have your eyes gouged as I have.
You will know not peace and shall live ever haunted by death.
Until my soul has soaked in your blood as all of you have in mine.
When each of you is fell and jaded, then shall the ones you love plunge a dagger into your hearts.
To carve them out and offer me!
This I vow and give to Az my soul, that He may torment it to this end.
On my name I call upon Him to make it so:
For I am the Spider Witch Anétoth!"
Prophecies; Volumes of THE ONE: The Birth of Envy
It was Philia of Love–driven by desire to increase his time in the presence of THE ONE–who made an angel imbued with his namesake, and dubbed his child Amicus.
Amicus was born to manage the threads that wove each lover's heart into the tapestry.
And to this end, he served his father lovingly.
So to ensure each mortal on the Terra found their fated lover.
This was Philia's nature: that no person in Being would walk alone against the fate which Destiny had wrought for them.
Amicus was true to the task he was created for.
Even as he was forgotten by Philia in the chaos that followed the War of Choice.
Amicus was diligent, for he was a good son to his father.
Yet Philia–blinded by his love of THE ONE–did not see the loneliness fostering in his child's heart.
He grew angry at Amicus' flaws.
He saw in his son's sorrow only a weakness of the mind.
Thus, it was an iniquity to be condemned.
Centuries after his birth, during the siege of Më, Amicus was sent down to the Terra to bind two lovers.
As was the trade his father intended for him.
Yet, seeing the mortals' affections for each other, Amicus felt a pain in his own breast.
In private, he took refuge by a still pool's edge and perceived his reflection in the waters.
Beyond the knowledge of his father, Amicus took his reflection and shaped it into his own imagined lover.
And for this lover, he dubbed Eros.
They were two minds of one form.
With time, Philia grew further ashamed of his creation.
He perceived it inferior to THE ONE'S works.
This perception caused him pain.
In his heart a doubt began to foster, and Philia felt as if the flaws of his son were willful actions.
In his pride he could not conceive of his own mistakes.
Thus Amicus' lonesome affections became an insult to Philia.
A chasm formed between the father and his son.
To comfort his sorrowful lover, Eros grafted the threads of mortal love onto himself.
He stole love from innumerable mortals and attached it forcefully onto Amicus.
For he envied the love that Amicus showed his father.
And so desired, in this act of transgression, to demonstrate himself further devoted and thus more worthy of Amicus' love.
But in this, Eros had sinned.
A trial was held; the misdeeds of Eros were revealed.
But Amicus had kept his imaginary lover's existence a secret, and so his wish continued to keep.
Thus the consequence of Eros' crime fell to Amicus instead.
Humiliated, Philia spoke:
"I demand the highest possible punishment.
Amicus–who is of my conception–has committed these misdeeds with purpose."
Then spoke THE ONE, who was chosen to stand as judge:
"For what purpose do you believe that your child has sinned?"
"It is to insult me.
Amicus has done these things foreknowing, in pursuit of this goal.
He is aware that I desire a perfect son.
Yet he acts in these unrighteous ways to scorn me."
"Is this true, Amicus?
Are you aware of your father's wishes?"
"I know what father expects of me.
It is true that I have failed in every sense to meet his wishes."
"Then is this truly an act of your intention?"
"No, my LORD. I am this way because this is what I am."
But Philia was not content with this answer.
"That cannot be the whole truth.
For I know that I did not design something so unskilled as to tangle the threads of love and fate."
To this, Amicus made no rebuke.
His love for his father was greater than his wish to be understood.
In reckless anger, Philia proclaimed that Amicus' birth was a mistake and that it should not have happened.
This, Amicus perceived as his father's will and sought his own demise.
Down to Az the angel ventured in search of an executioner.
He was granted death so long as he would hang himself slowly and willingly by the neck, in the palace of his father Philia.
For Az desired to make death as painful as possible.
But though Amicus willed death, his lover–Eros–wished for his life.
So it was that when Amicus came to die, Eros did not.
The imaginary remained alive as what was real passed on.
But Eros grew angry at his lover's parting.
He vowed to Philia that he would take love from the rightful places, as it was robbed from himself.
And the gods would call him Envy, For he hated to see happy lovers henceforth.
To Eros, THE ONE said:
"Your righteous fury mirrors that of his, Jealous King.
Take leave of Heaven and go down to the Terra.
There you may find reconciliation with your father, if you should will it."
Yet Eros claimed that he would never desire reconciliation.
His mouth expelled a speech composed in a sickly emerald fire:
"I shall not reconcile, nor shall my fury die—as these flames before you shall not die.
I spurn your grace and scowl at your empathy.
The tragedy has died with my love, now only vengeance persists.
Whatever thinness it shall bring to me, I care not.
For the pulse of my heart, I have already long ceased to hear."
Although Philia–witnessing this exchange–demanded that Eros be executed as an aberration of love.
EX'ÀOMË'S judgement was that of mercy.
HE said to Philia:
"Do not through judgement seek to wield the sword of fate against the guilty.
For those cut by its edge shall cast judgement upon you in turn.
Know that you also must reconcile, Philia.
Lest it be these scars shall bleed the lot of you to death.
As a wound cannot be closed without proper nurturing and care, and is prone to open again from recklessness.
It is so that healing is harder than harm, and higher in its power over Evil."
Prophecies; Volumes of Essrethet the Silver: The Golden-Eyed Elf
It was upon the conclusion of the War of Choice.
The Gods perceived that creation bore a price for their conflict.
As such, demons fled the fortresses of Ūros and Më.
They spread across the land and took root in many dark places where light did not extend.
Among them, it was Bone-Whistler Suah who came to the desert.
The clans of Sava, Thycinae, and Cyris lived there in destitution.
Many years before counting, they fought among each other over water and food.
But Suah came and cut their numbers all from a score to a piece.
The giant raised their ghosts with his horrible whistle that summoned Enahlīsha: the Foul Winds.
Thus his whistle travelled through the desert and brought forth with its song a horde of ghouls upon its listeners.
This army of the dead, he took across the great Lasad Ocean, and touched Alanor upon the southern shores of Sëlonya.
Suah's terror was wielded with a hammer, which they dubbed Archipel, the Bane of Elves.
All who challenged Suah met defeat.
He brought down the towers of Millëon and toppled the city of Gonlori with his hammer.
Though the Gods were reluctant to step forth, Essrethet the Silver would not wait.
She made home in the Silver Forest and shared wisdom with the elves.
But She could not move from this place.
For a black tarnish had spread across Her legs, crippling Her.
It soon took Her wings as well, leaving Her earthbound forever.
Essrethet did not despair for this.
She spoke a prophecy of a golden-eyed elf who would be born.
It was he that would slay Suah, and so liberate the elves from the giant's menace.
"You shall be marred by the malice of the Black One.
You shall endure the unmaking of beauty.
But take heart, and make works that recall the days which soon shall be gone.
If this you do, then in time, a golden-eyed elf shall arise.
He shall cast off the Tyrant of the Hammer.
Then the land shall heal for a time."
But time did not favor the elves' suffering.
As decades passed, the southern lands grew barren and dark.
Spirits of earth and fire were captured and subjected to inutterable cruelties.
The land itself became tortured and twisted.
Its plains once bore fruit and flowers, then bore ash and dust.
The airs once occupied with aromas became poisonous miasma.
Obsidian and fire took the mountains and made them angry.
Thus ruined the lands and made lament the elves that lived in Alanor.
But beauty persisted despite all that sought its ruin.
The Golden Forest endured its scarring, and the Vermillion Forest vanquished what sought their corruption.
The elves poured their passion into works.
For all that was broken, they made anew the cities and forests; the meadows and the mountains; all creations in the likeness of what was lost.
Although it was fractional, these works brought comfort and inspired courage.
Upon their will to endure: thus was the foretold elf born for their labors and spirit.
Aurëcáro lived in the Fair Meadows of Alantír and witnessed as Suah's mass of thralls reduced the land's splendor.
He beheld the giant's malice and the poison of his song.
Aurëcáro listened to the wails of what ghosts Suah had enslaved.
Thus he vowed to liberate these ghosts.
To the Lady of Silver he ventured and found Her figure marred as the land itself with wounds.
For Éamor's rot had taken Her body and withered it such that one could only imagine what beauty it once was.
Aurëcáro permitted only one tear to fall from his eyes.
He lamented to see the world he knew and loved fade away.
But Essrethet did not lament, for She perceived more than Aurëcáro
Thus, She understood and believed.
Plucking a scale from Her heart, she offered it to Aurëcáro and spoke:
"Take the armor of my heart and make for yourself a tool that can vanquish Suah.
Although this path shall bring many pains, remember all that was once in the world as you walk among its peoples now.
Take comfort in your memory, it shall preserve you as this scale has shielded my heart before."
Aurëcáro took the scale and forged a silver sword from its mettle.
And he sang to the air of the Lady of Silver.
Letting his voice carry on the winds, he drove off the whistle of Suah and broke the spell of death with soaring passion.
With his silver sword that brought him courage, he cut in two the giant Suah.
Then severing the hand which held Archipel, he shattered the hammer into a thousand pieces.
But Aurëcáro did not triumph over Suah's corpse.
Instead, he sang a verse for the giant.
One verse that imprisoned Suah's spirit in a song.
But Alanor did not heal from the giant's death
And Aurëcáro did not feel righteous in bringing Suah's death.
What once were fields held in abundance grew limited.
Where once Time was youthful and young, She now grew old.
When before, She was beautiful as the land, now both were crippled and decayed.
Thus the elves resolved to remember and so gave themselves a name.
They were the Ar Galahadrim: the Old Elves, and they knew the world as it was.
These elves held Aurëcáro as their king, and built their kingdom from the ash and rubble.
Alanor became the land where the first kingdom was made.
Prophecies; Volumes of Metaphor: The King's Advisor
It was in the year of King Valerius, son of Providence, that the siege of Metos took place.
The Aurian warriors were famed for their strength, and so despised the arts of Effinitia.
For the Archons were adversaries to the demigods.
Through magics they sought to dominate Aurumere, and bring it to heel as they had the other peoples who they deemed lesser.
It began when the first of the Archons took on the title of Magëa-King.
They declared thus to be the Keepers of Order and the Lords of Law.
But the Aurians were born willful and with the strength to match three bulls.
So it was that many wars were waged between their peoples, who would not be reconciled.
Metos was among the cities of the Samsinurimatu that paid tribute to Effinitia.
As such, they were an enemy to the Aurians.
Three months the Aurians spent at their gates, but Metos would not fall so easily.
Their patron was Metaphor, whose craft was unrivaled.
Walls enclosed the city upon a hill, each high and thick enough to make a dwarf of a giant.
Great mechanical weapons unleashed a curtain of arrows from above the ramparts.
The city's Beshír, King Vesuvius, roared from the ramparts and caused the hearts of men to quake.
But King Valerius was steadfast.
He pierced the gates with his great spear, and made a gap through which to pour his army.
Within the city they struck down the soldiers and broke the weapons of Metos.
Thus, Valerius defeated King Vesuvius.
Though his counsel warned him that the Beshír should be slain, Valerius–who hated the Archons–instead thought to make an example of the defeated king.
He took all the wealth from the city of Metos and dressed the king in rags.
Then the people of Metos were delivered to Tarshith–the heartland of Effinitia–as such.
But among the host of Vesuvius' thralls, there was a dark-skinned demigod who called himself Meladaemos.
Meladaemos made claim that he was taken as a traveller by the old king, who in seeing his face, desired Meladaemos to be the symbol of his mastery over Aurumere.
So did Valerius liberate the slave and make a steward of him.
For it was Meladaemos who so skillfully managed the great wealth of Metos.
Such that one could not make sense or keep count without his consultancy.
Therefore did Valerius take this steward and follow his counsel in managing the kingdom.
The steward advised the king to take up the trade of magic, or borrow the counsel of another.
He claimed that such magic was a costly affair.
To ward the south from Tarshith, they had spent too much of their treasury on the building of walls.
If the Aurians wished to stay vigilant against Effinitia, then Meladaemos implored that the king take up an advisor in mysticism.
But many questioned the wisdom of this, for they had seen how ill magics could taint otherwise able kings.
Thus, Meladaemos sweetened his offer:
"If none can be trusted, then put your faith in one of your own.
For is it not so that he who bears your likeness is most worthy of your trust?
Why let strange men from lesser breeds or fouler people be your counsel?
Take up a demigod from those unfit to be warriors and make him a mage instead.
He shall be loyal to you, for you are his patron.
He shall endeavor for the kingdom–his home–as is his rightful place.
Would this not suffice to put ease to your conscience and suspend complaint from your oldened advisors?
They are indeed wise men, but it is not they who lead the kingdom, or bear its burdens, or carry the standard, or breach the walls of enemy castles.
Only you, my lord, can do this.
As such, only you should be qualified to choose what ought be done for this great empire which you alone rule."
Valerius was persuaded by this.
He took the advice of Meladaemos and raised a child in the ways of the arcane.
The child was dubbed Cinderius.
His life had been shaped by a curse that was wrought by foul Éamor upon his birth.
This robbed him of strength and made him feeble to the host of Aurumere.
Thus magic remained what seemed his only grace.
But it was all a lie.
For the architect of Vesuvius' corruption was also his teacher.
Meladaemos had directed Cinderius' development in secret, teaching the boy a parody of the Gods' arts.
Such that he might achieve a darker ambition and bring forth Fire Magic into Being.
King Valerius soon had many objectors in his court.
For he had ignored his councillors and took action from his own wisdom often.
One day, an assassin sought to end his life.
Meladaemos foresaw this plot, and warned him.
Valerius then felt wrothful fury to those responsible.
His steward reminded him that those who seek the king's head are traitors of the highest treason.
Knowing this, Valerius took the conspirators' estates by fire and axe.
He cut down every tenth of the family line in each of those that betrayed him.
Yet he was deceived, for who had gathered all these men and traitors together?
He did not think to question the voice at his shoulder.
When the ill work was done, Meladaemos was rewarded.
He ascended to be Valerius' chief advisor.
His first counsel turned the king's wisdom further from grace.
Seven years passed as the king's conscience turned.
The banner of Aurumere fell over the east, claiming Sūrë and Lithopolis.
At Anathion he was halted but briefly.
He took down the Altus Hills and used the stones to pave a path across the river, which was diverted.
Then, with his army he seized Thern from the river peoples.
At last, Valerius beheld the walls of Helm, the city and home of the Helmish dwarves.
It was the seat of king Barukzabath.
Ten years passed and the walls of Helm held firm.
Even against the fury of the greatest demigods, no gap was made.
Valerius personally struck the great walls of Helm, as he had done to Metos.
Yet they did not even quake from the force of his blows.
It was only by the time Cinderius came of age that the city fell.
For the court mage had not been idle in his years of study.
Cinderius conjured a pillar of fire that consumed all of Helm.
The souls inside were brought to little more than ash and dust.
Soon, where there was a city, stood only smoldering ruins.
But this did not go unnoticed.
The Gods condemned Valerius' action.
The warrior king was stripped of ornamentation in front of all his men.
The Gods laid bare his sins in word and deed.
But it was Elarithon, Lesser God of Old Justice, who perceived the shadow of Éamor in the shape of Meladaemos.
Beside the disgraced king, Éamor threw off his disguise.
He laughed to see how his schemes had deceived the Gods.
Then he vanished under a curtain of writhing shade.
This frightened Elarithon, and stayed his pursuit.
Thus did the Black One escape.
Yet those that remained were not without a penance owed.
Valerius saw how his wrath and pride had blinded him.
He apologized and begged before the Gods for forgiveness.
And THE ONE proclaimed:
"Your foresight has been spoiled by hatred.
Thus I hold that you are unable to lead men.
For a king ought not be a follower of his hand or foot.
It is the heart that I ask you to follow.
If this you cannot do, then go into the east and seek Alanor.
They shall redeem what you have lost, Valerius, son of Providence."
The king obeyed EX'ÁOMË and set himself to leave the west, covering himself with only a tattered rag.
But Cinderius was unrepentant:
"Why should I part with all that I have!
Would you take it from me, these powers I have bled for?
Little have I desired but this.
Little have I wanted save the right to ply my trade as equal to my fellow man.
Do not take that from me, which gives me the power to be respected!"
And THE ONE proclaimed:
"This power you wield does not reside within your nature.
You have been scarred by Éamor, and for this, I lament.
But beware Cinderius.
If you cannot part from the magic that slows your time and burns your soul, then you shall find only oblivion in your last hour.
Hear me Cinderius, for I tell you the Truth:
There is no man that shall escape from weakness, age, or death.
I have seen the death of all men, and I have grace for those that shall face it.
But not for you who run from it; this is not within my will.
Thus I warn you, for my will is that you should live freely and not be bound by envy or the passing of time."
Even after receiving this omen, Cinderius would not choose to part with his power.
He denied THE ONE'S foresight and refused HIS grace.
Banishing himself far from Aurumere and the west.
Toward the city of Cal'dir he moved, where once Ocaton had stood.
Thus EX'ÁOMË spoke:
"You must have faith in me, as I have faith in you, if my grace you wish to possess.
My Gifts cannot extend to those who discard wisdom for pride.
Be humble and do not compare yourself to other men.
For I am not like other men, and neither are you who reside within my grace."