"demons best entry into our world is not a magical portal but through the hearts of men"

"In certain moments, my consciousness is whisked away to the Dreamscape where I am accompanied by the elegant kestrels gliding overhead, guiding me on a journey through a tapestry of memories that stretch across the expanse of all of life. It feels as though I am a diligent traveller, meticulously examining the intricate threads of their predestined fate. As I observe the unfolding tapestry of another past, I become acutely aware of how every past is reshaped and forever altered inside the expanse you call the dreamscape and its collective living consciousness. Every time I close my eyes, I am once again revealing distorted reflections of former events that swirl in a chaotic dance. A torrent of crimson liquid, symbolic of life's essence, floods my vision, intertwining with images of intense suffering and anguish. This striking scene captures the profound connection between existence and the inevitability of death, presenting a stark reminder of the fragility of mortals. Through a unique lens, I catch a fleeting glimpse of the tragic calamities that descend upon all living beings, each moment echoing the shared sorrow and undeniable endings that all humans experience." - Vanessa Stryder

As many of you were brought into this world beyond the established boundaries of understanding, it seems fitting that we commence our discussion with the intricate concept of creation. You might be curious about my identity and the reason this is necessary to comprehend. To truly see, one must have accurate information; without it, choices cannot be made, and opinions stay undefined and unblemished. Perhaps I'm seeking companionship or rivals; maybe I wish to impart knowledge, or it could just be the truth that I desire to share with someone who will listen. We commence then! What truly is creation? It remains a notion that eludes complete comprehension, sparking endless debates among scholars and thinkers alike. The essence of humanity appears to be a tapestry woven with contrasting ideas; prominently featured are the chaotic forces of existence intermingled with steadfast beliefs. These fundamental elements often clash, giving rise to a tension that results in a profound imbalance within our lives and societies. In my view, the exertion of force - whether physical, emotional, or intellectual - stands as a necessary catalyst within this intricate process of creation, propelling individuals and cultures toward transformation and growth amidst the chaos. What occurs when the fundamental concept of life is confronted with the harsh realities of death, war, and denial? This is perhaps a question that may remain forever unanswered, weaving itself into the tapestry of our narratives. At the heart of this dilemma lies the archetype of the hero - what does it truly mean to slay a monstrous foe? And can one truly be deemed a hero if their weapon is unshackled from the reins of compassion? These questions beckon us to explore the complexities of morality and the darker shades of human nature, inviting us to consider whether strength alone defines valour or if it is tempered by the ability to show mercy, even in the face of overwhelming adversities. - Your narrator and friend, a seed of what once was Volos

Chapter IX: The Lament of Worlds

In the very core of the pentaverse, five fundamental worlds dwell, each intricately connected to one of the limitless entities that brought them into being. These worlds embody distinct eternal values, serving as the foundation of existence itself, transcending mere life and showcasing the essence of unparalleled concepts. Each entity represents a metaphysical idea that not only predates creation but also coexists with it in a delicate balance. This raises profound questions: Is this phenomenon a manifestation of divinity, or is it simply an abstract notion, something intangible yet immensely powerful?. These worlds form the bedrock of infinite variations that echo across the timelines of the past, present, and future. Each realm within these worlds is a unique tapestry, some bursting with vivid life and radiant light, while others dwell in the oppressive embrace of death and shadow. Yet, through every world runs a singular, mysterious thread: the etheric realm, often referred to as the domain of magic or souls. This ethereal plane acts as a nexus, intersecting with the physical worlds at particular junctions of time and space, giving rise to the enigmatic aetheric crossroads. These crossroads can appear as a constant point within the landscape, revealing their secrets only during rare celestial alignments or fleetingly manifesting as distortions in the very fabric of existence.

Prologue: The Lament of Worlds

In the very core of the pentaverse, five fundamental worlds dwell, each intricately connected to one of the limitless entities that brought them into being. These worlds embody distinct eternal values, serving as the foundation of existence itself, transcending mere life and showcasing the essence of unparalleled concepts. Each entity represents a metaphysical idea that not only predates creation but also coexists with it in a delicate balance. This raises profound questions: Is this phenomenon a manifestation of divinity, or is it simply an abstract notion, something intangible yet immensely powerful?. These worlds form the bedrock of infinite variations that echo across the timelines of the past, present, and future. Each realm within these worlds is a unique tapestry, some bursting with vivid life and radiant light, while others dwell in the oppressive embrace of death and shadow. Yet, through every world runs a singular, mysterious thread: the etheric realm, often referred to as the domain of magic or souls. This ethereal plane acts as a nexus, intersecting with the physical worlds at particular junctions of time and space, giving rise to the enigmatic aetheric crossroads. These crossroads can appear as a constant point within the landscape, revealing their secrets only during rare celestial alignments or fleetingly manifesting as distortions in the very fabric of existence.

Beneath the endless expanse of the cosmos, the Pentaverse unfolds a magnificent and intricate tapestry woven from the very threads of existence. Each strand tells a story, and every fibre spins a fable, intertwining to create a vast quilt of realms that stretch far beyond the limits of imagination.

Beyond the towering trees, where gnarled roots intertwine with the World Tree's veins and the globes that sustain them, lies a boundless metaphysical cosmos teeming with the vibrancy of existence. This cosmos is nestled between the flickering realities that brush against one another. In the shadowy crevices separating these worlds, hidden enigmas slumber, their secrets locked away in an intricate web of cosmic mystery. Bright tendrils of light swirl and shimmer, painting the very spectrum of creation with hues that seem alive, illuminating the chaotic dance of entropy and harmony.

"Boundless," I breathed, my voice barely a whisper that seemed to dissolve into the profound silence enveloping the stunning vista of the Pentaversal realm.

Across the expansive landscape, colossal power globes loomed like celestial orbs, each a magnificent sphere pulsating with both ethereal substance and the vibrant energy of countless souls. These globes throbbed with an otherworldly vitality, emanating a kaleidoscope of colours rich, velvety purples, blazing oranges reminiscent of sunsets, and electric blues that sparkled like stars reflected on the surface of tranquil emerald waters. Each hue shimmered and danced in harmony, evoking feelings of life and longing that filled the air like a passionate symphony of creation.

These enormous power globes were not mere mechanical constructs; they were living entities - intricate architectures woven from the very fabric of potentiality, shimmering with the promise of creation. Each globe emanated a warmth that felt sentient, embodying the eternal cycle of life and death, continually refitted by the machines Asyrin had created. Whispering the stories of the unbound, all of which were patiently waiting in the depths of darkness to emerge into the light. As I gazed upon this extraordinary spectacle, I felt a profound connection to the energy that pulsed through this cosmic vein, each beat resonating with the heartbeat of the universe, nurturing and sustaining every flicker of life that dared to exist in this magnificent expanse.

From the breathtaking heights of the observatory, gracefully nestled atop a majestic spiralling tower of intricately carved stone, Asyrin leaned forward, his heart racing with anticipation. His gaze pierced through the expansive circular glass canopy that framed the infinite tapestry of night above, a dark velvet expanse studded with jewels of distant stars. The air was thick with a haunting stillness, as if the entire universe held its breath, punctuated only by soft, spectral whispers that twirled through the void, carrying with them the echoes of secrets long buried beneath the fabric of time.

The eyes of the unbound hovered high above, a constellation of ethereal lights glimmering like ancient guardians; they watched him with a knowing gaze that chilled his very core. Each flicker seemed to ignite the darkness, casting an enigmatic glow that deepened the shadows of his thoughts. Rather than bringing comfort, their distant radiance amplified the weight of Asyrin's contemplations, each star a reminder of the untold mysteries clamouring to be revealed in the unreasoning depths of the cosmos.

Asyrin's heart thundered in his chest, an urgent drumbeat echoing the gravity of his situation. Though he had been granted the fragile gift of more time, the immense weight of his creation loomed over him like a storm threatening to unleash its fury. Each gust of guilt felt suffocating and oppressive. Time itself felt like an elusive treasure slipping through his fingers as he grappled with the ethical implications of what he had brought into existence. "What have I brought to life?" This thought loomed monolithic in his mind, a relentless spectre of guilt.

He turned his gaze to the magnificent bio-organic oak that stood as the centrepiece of the observatory. Its towering presence was a blend of nature and artistry. The bark resembled a captivating tapestry of rich, earthy wood interwoven with delicate strands of shimmering, living metal, pulsating with vibrant energy that defied the laws of nature. Yet, at the very core of the ancient trunk, twisted like a forgotten myth, lay the comatose figure of an enigmatic woman. Her beauty was hauntingly ethereal, a captivating mix of light and torment that enveloped her like a delicate shroud. The shimmering glow of the power globes' crystal orbs suspended in midair cast a kaleidoscope of colours that danced around her, reflecting the raw and mysterious energies of the fabled Ether Realm. Despite this radiant illumination, she bore an unimaginable burden, an exquisite agony emanating from her very soul and her pale, feminine features. The very essence of her being seemed inextricably woven into the daunting burden of sustaining the fragile equilibrium of five interconnected realms. This was manifest in the network of slim, silvery wires snaking from her slender wrists and into the delicate veins of her translucent skin, causing the ethereal globes surrounding her to pulse and shudder as if they were alive. While her outward appearance radiated an otherworldly beauty - features strikingly perfect, skin aglow with an inner light - there lingered an unsettling aura that suggested a profound and unseen affliction lay beneath the surface. Asyrin instinctively turned his gaze away, deeply unsettled by the notion that she regarded him with barely concealed disdain; her scrutiny felt like an unyielding judgment upon his very soul. Nevertheless, her piercing eyes tracked his every movement, a haunting reminder of her immobility. A solitary tear, glistening like a drop of morning dew, escaped from the corner of her left eye, tracing a silken path down her cheek. She remained ensnared within the ancient gnarled tree, a prisoner of time and fate, forever caught between consciousness and the serenity of her stasis. "It's always silence," he whispered through clenched teeth, glancing only once upward at the boundless sky before lowering his head, his expression darkening. "It's almost time..." He trailed off as he made his way to the centre of the observatory.

Asyrin found his path arrested by the weight of his emotions, as if an unseen force pressed down on him, compelling him to confront the tumult within. Raising his chin, he met her penetrating gaze - dark and solemn - reflecting the turmoil that churned in his own soul. "Your unparalleled power resides at the very core of these worlds," he declared, his voice imbued with a newfound resolve that cut through the tension in the air. "Now, go! Seize it for yourself." Bowing his head with profound sorrow and regret, he spoke softly, each word a heartfelt plea laden with remorse, "Please forgive me, my children."

As I write these words, I know that few will take them seriously. I write in this temporary place, which serves as a vacuum in between the pentaverse. My emaciated body has received little nourishment, but my mind is alert, and I have a right hand and a pen. Come closer, and I'll recount the last twenty years in greater detail, for all stories begin somewhere...

- Vaedris Sorien

In the eighteenth month we marked the date.

A death afflicted A Mans Tragic Fate.

To fall In Voids Between.

I pause to allow you to think what I mean.

I stand at the precipice unable to pretend.

I am an observer few know what I portend.

the month is Julyre and thoughts I pen.

An Ageless Hag Of Time The Story Begins Again.

(Swavmyrie A dimly lit tent on the Outskirts roarshed a small Hamlet On The Dragosian Empire Border)

Eras are meaningless time does not pass.

history repeats we sit in houses of glass.

in man's world nothing is built to last.

ages come and ages are past.

in dreams Ive seen extinguished lights.

wrongs commited men accept different rights.

ideologies are a disease.

bringing the world to it's knees.

as in every era come and done.

battles are fought and the dead have won.

In Thaelis we Make our Home.

Men of blood kingdoms built on the bone.

As I Write this on parchment I recount the last twenty years.

Through these experiences view a heretics tears.

we are spectators one an all.

To high ruling men But all Kingdoms Fall.

(A man without a past searches Thaelis Hunting his Quarry to the remote Ashen Wastes)

The foreboding black structure stood tall beneath a sky shrouded in a swirling, smoky gray, tainted by a relentless downpour of sinister ashen rain. As the lone figure forged ahead, the ash-laden desert path stretched endlessly, with tiny particles of gray sand flicking up and clinging to his protective leg armor. He was a weary traveler from the distant and fabled land of Castyms Dragosia, embarking on a treacherous journey across the desolate, ash-covered lands of Thaelis.

As he arrived at the spired city, now a mere shadow of its former self, he extended his right unarmored arm, the rich hue of his skin contrasting with the gleaming Celissian Silver Gauntlet that resounded with a resounding clank against the door as he knocked. Standing in silence, the gladiator was overcome by an unsettling chill as he beheld the once-vibrant town, now enshrouded in an unsettling stillness.

With an otherworldly hiss, the door groaned open, and an ethereal mist seeped out like tendrils of smoke, causing him to catch a glimpse of what appeared to be blood oozing from beneath the door. Calmly, he pushed open the imposing black marble doors, only to find a figure slumped behind it, their life force draining away as they collapsed at his feet. His desiccated corpse was clutching flowers and a toy. As I ventured into the heart of Darkspire, wisps of smoke rose from the scorched earth, creating an otherworldly scene. The ethereal smoke danced and twisted, coalescing into ghostly human forms that faded as quickly as they appeared. Amidst this haunting display, I caught a glimpse of a faint blood trail, a grim reminder of the tragedy that had unfolded in this accursed place. My Faded Red Scalf Clung to My Neck Despite The Strong Wind As the sun set behind Darkspires mountains, a smoky breeze swept through the clearing where I stood, observing two ghostly children playing with sticks. In the fading light, the scene took on a haunting quality, and the illusion shifted to reveal a guard and what seemed to be my target - a stunning woman with six armed individuals, who I suspected might be bandits. The ceiling of the first floor of Darkspire is marked by a series of openings and gaps that allow sunlight to penetrate into the interior space, creating an intriguing interplay of light and shadow. As the men entered the room, they introduced themselves one by one, with Thomas causing the guard to laugh with his charming wit. They presented lavish riches and gifts to thomas, causing Melval to smile in appreciation. Suddenly, the scene changed as the fog outside violently swirled, and there was no doubt that the tainted Ether was exerting its powerful influence in that place. The scent of the fog invaded my nostrils and mouth, causing me to gag. My eyes were inundated with blinding light and smoke until finally, it felt as though I was no longer present in my own body. As I faded away, I couldn't help but think one last time about the powerful grip of friendship. It had already taken Thomas, and now it seemed determined to take me too.





As the blinding silver sun pierced through the darkness, I awoke to find myself in the midst of a vast gray-sanded desert, a place I had never seen before. Despite the unfamiliarity of my surroundings, a voice inside me insisted that I had charted this course six months prior. I gazed at my hands, only to find that they seemed foreign to me, as if invisible pressure had distorted their appearance. My delicate fingernails, painted in a striking shade of crimson red, caught my eye, triggering a vivid memory of the matriarchy sending templars to pursue me and my fellow sisters for daring to question the great weave. Here I stood, accompanied by six mercenaries, embarking on an enigmatic journey filled with uncertainty and danger. I was a man who came with a specific purpose, but my memories elude me. Instead, the name I recall is Melval. I believe that's my name. I think the man sitting opposite the left side of my bed in the tent is called... I see a vision of a crystal in my mind and remember Vaedris, or at least I think I do. "Then, I remember how we ended up here. I wanted to go back home to Hasque, but the matriarch said that my connection to the accursed ether realm meant that my place was as a soldier. I had led a failed coup, but I eventually attained freedom." The memories fade as Vaedris smiles, removing the silk sheets. My slender and defined form wasn't without its blemishes, a scar on my stomach from when I lost my child.As much as I try to smile back, the memories continue to have a powerful hold over me. I was born into a family that i loved though they rejected the idea of fate, believing it to be evil. At the age of ten, the matriarchy took me away and trained me in magic after a terrible incident where I unintentionally summoned an imp that caused a fire, resulting in the tragic death of my elder brother. My family seemed relieved that I was no longer with them.

As I absentmindedly brushed my hand across Vaedri's hairy, muscular chest, a surge of affection stirred within me. Leaning in to kiss him, I felt his response as he tenderly caressed my left cheek. In that rare moment of bliss, our connection felt deeper than ever before. However, our intimate moment was abruptly interrupted by an unexpected visitor. Vaedri's expression turned to annoyance as he swiftly turned to face the tent flap, where a pale man named Loyd stood, bowing as a gesture of respect. Despite not being born into the Warband, Loyd was a trusted member of the Boatusk clan, one of the forty scouting parties serving the Jakon Tribes."Targets in sight, but time's ticking," he muttered nervously. Vaedri shot back, "Seventh-day?" asking more to himself than to anyone else. Lloyd, with his disheveled beard glinting in the silver sunlight from outside, said, "Ash rains are already starting to form the clouds, my Hartok."I recall that "Hartok" was the equivalent of a brigade captain and was highly regarded by any male member of the Jakon warband. The Ash Rain corrupts the ground, giving birth to demons from Nakos. We called it the Ether, and as its grip on my memory weakened, I slowly awoke.



As my heavy eyelids finally parted, I was greeted by the sight of a black ceiling composed of rusted metal plates, an unsettling expanse above me marked by numerous cracks through which dank water trickled languidly. The relentless rain outside cascaded down, its droplets striking my face with an icy touch, awakening my senses further. I coughed involuntarily, each rasping sound releasing a desperate breath - my first since I had lost consciousness. A sharp dryness gripped my throat, a parched sensation that begged for relief. Instinctively, I reached a hand across my face to drink rain water, hoping to find solace in its contents. As my eyes adjusted, gradually recovering from the effects of smoke inhalation and the haze that had enveloped me, a figure came into focus.

With my roughened hands shielding my eyes from the dim light, I observed how my Kasirin skin, a shaded brown, caught the light, glistening in a way that felt both foreign and familiar amidst the shadows. The Dragosian Kingdom, with its convoluted streets and hidden corners, had served as a refuge of sorts for me, an escaped slave seeking solace from a past fraught with peril and oppression.

My long black hair cascaded over my left shoulder, creating a slight distortion in the figure's outline as they moved deliberately. As they approached the crevasse near what remained of a jewelry shop, I was struck by an unsettling detail - streaks of blood trailed behind them, evidence of a body they had dragged into the ruins. Caution overtook me, and I instinctively began to shift backward, remaining low to the ground to avoid detection. It was then that I caught sight of a jagged tail, its ribbed armor glinting ominously, making it clear that this creature was no mortal being. The smell of blood lingered heavy in the air, a metallic scent that clawed at my throat and made my stomach churn. The faint sounds of chanting reached my ears, rising and falling like a sinister melody, coming from deep within the shadows of the jewelry store. It was there that the grotesque creature had dragged its latest victim, the panic still rippling through me as I imagined what horrors awaited them inside.

Peering cautiously through the cracks in the walls, I caught fleeting glimpses of the interior - cages littered haphazardly against the corners, some rusted and others seemingly new. Within them lay remnants of past atrocities: bones scattered amid pools of dried blood, some of the bones splintered as if torn apart by a savage force. My heart raced as I felt the dread pooling in my chest, each breath coming in shallow gasps.

Gingerly, I took a step back, my instincts on high alert. Against the rough surface of the wall, I found some leverage. With a quiet grunt, I pulled myself up into a crouch, the armor I wore clinking softly but giving me a strange sense of protection. I was a complete contrast to the malevolent energy surrounding me.

As I peered through the gaps, my eyes gradually adjusted to the gloom. I could see it now - the creature that had ensnared someone, and it was nothing short of horrific. Its skin gleamed in the dim light, a mosaic of scales that shimmered like dark gemstones, revealing its true deviance. Instead of soft flesh, it was as if a reptile was draped in skins, sinewy muscles curling around the jagged outline of what once might have been human.

But it was more than just what lay beneath the surface; it was how the scales caught the meager beams of light filtering from broken windows, each glimmer a reminder of its inhumanity. Some of its bones protruded grotesquely from its scalp, giving it a crown of jagged relics that told tales of conquests over helpless prey. I felt a shiver run down my spine. This encounter would change me. I still think of you, My little Altessa.