Thirty-two great cycles later.
A swift messenger dove races through the magenta midnight sky, where the argent light of the Great Moon and distant winking starlight guide the pilgrim home. Far beneath the dove's flight, a barbed world of impassable black mountains connects the earth with the sky. The needle-like peaks grasp at the heavens in a silhouette of mountainous, razor-sharp claws. The sheer Needle mountaintops sow through midnight's cloth of rolling clouds, emerging from a lush valley thick with forests, flowering meadows, and roaring rivers.
The Kabel Monastery perches on the highest of the serrated summits. The Kabel Monastery floats between the heavens and the earth, suspended above the sea of clouds. Hewn from enormous slabs of pure white stone, the monastery covers every space on the mountaintop. It shines like a precious white jewel beneath the silvery light of the Great Moon.
The Third Great Age. Great Cycle 3031.
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High Priest Anon sits at his small wooden desk. A single candle warms his soft, round face. He stares out through a narrow stone window, looking into the depths of the stellar night. Heavy reflection gnaws at his troubled mind until a fluttering of wings with a sweet low coo breaks his sombre stare. "Ah. There you are." The messenger dove comes to perch on the narrow window ledge. High Priest Anon raises a plump finger as the dove hops into his outspread hand. He removes a small roll of parchment from the dove's leg before the dove nests in its moonlit cage.
Esteemed High Priest, Anon. The Order of The One.
My faithful friend, It is with regret that I come to you with such an obligation, but what lay in slumber and bound by stone now awakens. Ana incarnate rises, and his spirit manifests. The old adversary imposes his power through the Prince of Galt. The prince is gathering those who are most loyal and rebuilding his armies. The young prince shines the light on a new kingdom in a masquerade of false hope. Like moths to a flame, the lords of Galt will unite behind his cause and support his claim to the throne. The time of peace is ending as the machine of war heralds a dark new dawn. As it was in the first age, it will be in ours. Ana seeks that which remains hidden, and The Athanas Stone must leave Thiel. You cannot trust those deemed closest to you, and long shadows already conceal the light. Sedition thrives in your own order, ensured by Prince Madon's Galtish gold. Send the child. He needs to bring only the Athanas stone and his mind. He must risk the old path, where a carriage awaits.We face the ultimate test of our age. Prepare The Order as planned. You will receive a substantial donation of my gratitude and loyalty.
Your faithful friend.
Lord Varesh, Elder Mage of the Elim.
56th Turn of the Summer. Great Cycle. 3103.
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Danan wakes from a thoughtless slumber. Pale moonlight seeps into his small room through a single, narrow stone window. Footsteps creak on the wooden floor of his small bedchamber before dim candlelight blurs his half-focused vision. Danan shuffles upright, dazed. His hard wooden bed creaks in protest as he reaches for a small cup of water resting on his rickety bedside table. Fragile pearls of ice catch in his parched throat as he sips the freezing water. Danan drapes a threadbare woolen blanket around his shaking shoulders. Anxious, his fingers subconsciously twist the frayed edge of his woolen blanket as he speaks. "Your Holiness," his breath forms wisps of cloud in the numbing cold, "how can I serve?"
"That's the right question, Danan. We all serve." The High Priest's tone resonates with wise reassurance. "How we serve is how we are all judged." Anon perches on the corner of Danan's bed. The pair of gentle souls find solace in a moment of comfortable silence. The High Priest breaks the peaceful lull. "I remember when you first came to us. You were a quiet child, even as a babe. I hope after all these years we can call each other family, perhaps even friends."
Danan scratches at the tufts of his unkempt hair as he searches for the right words. "Your Holiness, the order is my family. In the eternal light of The One, we are all friends and family." He tugs at the hem of his robe, his gaze avoiding the High Priest's eye contact.
"Very true, Danan. I hope now you will call me 'Anon,' and we may speak as friends." Anon places a reassuring hand on Danan's shoulder with a gentle squeeze.
"Of course, Your Holiness—High Priest—Anon. How can I serve?" Danan's words trail off into a low, uncertain mumble. He fidgets, attempting to find a more comfortable position.
"I apologize for disturbing you, but I have urgent matters to discuss." Anon adjusts his dark woolen robes, smoothing them down at his knees. His slight paunch protrudes above his simple rope belt. He rubs a soft, round hand over his bald head, then strokes his short, grey-white, flecked beard.
Danan sits, cross-legged, in apprehension. He rubs his clasped hands together for warmth. A hollow emptiness churns in his stomach.
"You will leave the monastery before the first sunrise." Anon's words strike Danan like a slap in the face, his heart sinking with rejection. Danan's eyes bulge with tears as he chokes on the unexpected shock, his voice quivering with confusion and self-doubt. "Your Holiness, what have I done wrong?"
"Wrong?" Anon scoffs. "You have done nothing wrong, Danan. That is why you must leave us." Anon's voice softens as he adopts a patient tone, giving Danan time to process his words. He rubs circles into his sleepless eyes before he fixes Danan with a soft, steady stare. "It's time for you to serve outside the monastery, as I once did."
Danan sits baffled; self-doubt consumes his thoughts. He bites his bottom lip as he tries to fathom life beyond the security of his childhood home. The silence lingers, begging to be broken. "Whom shall I serve, Your Holiness?" Danan's tone feigns conviction.
"You will serve Lord Varesh, Elder Mage of the Elim. He has requested our most gifted scribe as his personal aide." He offers a small, encouraging smile.
"How will I serve Lord Varesh?" Danan frowns, his bewildered face hardening in concentration, and his gaze flickers towards the ground.
"You will do as Lord Varesh deems appropriate. The histories of the ancient Elim Magi are vast and disparate works. Many works still need research, preservation, and copying." Anon pats Danan's leg with a warming grin. "I must confess, Danan, I am uncertain of Lord Varesh's full intentions. The Order seldom provides an aide for direct service to the kingdom, but trust Lord Varesh as you trust me. He is honorable and has long been a benefactor to The Order." Anon's wise eyes wander around Danan's stark chamber. "His donations build this very room, the chapels, the libraries, and all the halls we walk in. He is the foundation of our beliefs and an old friend." High Priest Anon fixes Danan with a mischievous stare. "Mages are eccentric and complicated; if in doubt, always trust in your faith." Anon stands. "Now, time is short. You need to bring only yourself. Lord Varesh will provide everything you need."
High Priest Anon takes a step toward the ajar door. "We must be as silent as snowfall; only our friendship knows of your task." Anon places his right hand on his heart and meets Danan's hollow gaze with determination. "Go in the light of The One," he says, giving Danan a curt nod. "I will wait for you in the corridor." The latch on the door clicks shut, enveloping the bedchamber in gloom.
Danan sits alone in the stony silence, watching moths bounce around the small, moonlit window. Starlight filters through the narrow gap, casting delicate patterns on the cold stone floor. He whispers a prayer, seeking guidance, before he shuffles off his creaking bed and ventures into the silent corridor.
Soft candlelight bathes the monastery's halls in an intimate glow. High Priest Anon clings to the deepest shadows of the corridor, akin to a thief in his own home. His voice hisses with the faintest of whispers. "Follow me and keep up." The old high priest slinks down the silent, dark corridor with surprising speed. Danan scurries to catch up, slipping through the monastery's dim recesses.
Danan's fingers brush over the intricate cosmic carvings on the walls as he walks through the monastery's corridors. The golden radiance of oil lamps lines the passageways, illuminating intricate murals depicting celestial events of The One.
They move in the monastery's shadows, unseen and unheard, into the center of a vast open stone circle at the heart of the Great Hall. The Great Hall is aglow with the luminescence of argent moonlight. No chairs adorn the space, as all must kneel before the majestic basalt throne. The colossal throne stands as tall as six men and as wide as two carriages; the polished jet-black stone reflects the splendor of the heavens above. Polished white stone walls encircle The Great Hall, adorned with murals depicting The One, creator of all good things. Two enormous bone horns rest on a raised stone platform. Each horn is as long as four men and wide enough to lay one man across it. At the light of the first sun, the horns resonate with the breath of the creator, heralding daylight.
Danan glances upward at the heavens, where, high above the monastery, a shower of ethereal starlight hangs weightless in the firmament. The great eternal nebula eye of The One sits within a golden corona, swimming in a cerulean sea. Bright, spiraling constellations adorn the celestial nebula. The cosmos blooms, anointing the night with countless pearls of brilliant starlight. The immense sapphire iris shimmers in cognizant splendor. Danan's silent prayer rises into the starry expanse above.
High Priest Anon interrupts Danan's awe. "We have little time." Anon hastens forward until they pass through a low door and navigate through a labyrinthine network of prayer rooms, meditation alcoves, and ancient libraries holding sacred tomes and star maps.
The scent of aged parchment and candle wax mingles with the faint aroma of incense. The soft glow of star-shaped lanterns suspended from the ceiling illuminates the faces of the monks as they gather in a circular chamber. They lift their gazes towards a celestial map painted on the domed roof, tracing the movements of constellations. The monks' chant is a groaning chorus that pays homage to the stars, the guardians of fate. The sound of turning pages and the scratching of quills against parchment drift along the corridor from the monasteries libraries.
Anon's pace slows, and he places a hushing finger over his lips, signaling for silence. The narrow corridor leads to a cliff's edge, flickering in golden torchlight.
Danan steals a glance from the darkened corridor to see a wall of armored shadows. Their backs turned to Danan.
The Knights of The One gaze out from the cliff edge to the night sky, scanning for celestial omens. The knights stand before a sheer vertical drop that seems to plunge into infinite space, suspended between the heavens and the earth, above a sea of clouds. Their armor grumbles in the cold, while their yellow shoulder capes flutter in the gusts of wind. On their capes, The Order's sigil, The Great Eye of The One in the center of a blooming rose. At the knights' feet, an enormous pulley system of metal wheels and thick ropes hangs from the edge of the cliff. An enormous wooden cage swings on the mountain for the transportation of people and supplies.
Danan's hesitant gaze shifts from the swaying cage and back to Anon. The High Priest steps into the bright moonlight, shaking his head. Danan follows Anon as closely as his own shadow. A narrow cave mouth awaits them on the mountain floor, surrounded by blustering fire-lit torches. Anon approaches the cave's entrance and clasps a flaming torch in a single, silent motion; he passes it to Danan.
Danan peers into the deep cave mouth, which reveals a steep stairwell. He turns to face Anon, who nods, urging him onward. Danan, testing his own resolve, steps towards the chasm and descends into its deep depths. Each footfall lands on the narrow stone steps, but his legs quiver with uncertainty as he journeys further into the heart of the mountain. The unyielding darkness envelops him, and he pauses, catching his breath as he hears faint voices echoing from the surface.
"Captain Lorllen."
"Your Holiness? What brings you out at the omen hour?"
"Darkness has plagued my dreams, captain. What signs are in the sky?"
"All is calm, Your Holiness."
Danan descends deeper into the cave. His hand brush along the carved walls for support, and his fingertips trace the patterns on an ancient star map carved deep into the stone. Bioluminescent fungi dot the walls, the soft blue-green glow illuminating his way. The passageway spirals downward, branching into new corridors that lead to even deeper caverns. His shaking breath echoes as the passage narrows ahead. Turning sideways, Danan squeezes through the narrow gap, spiraling ever deeper into the mountain's core. Doubt gnaws at his confidence as a wave of claustrophobia drowns him. He closes his eyes and mutters a prayer, seeking solace. A cold gust of air interrupts his contemplation, and he opens his eyes, scanning the pitch-black depths below. In the distance, a slender beam of bright silver light slices through the thick blanket of darkness. Danan's spirits lift, and he continues his corkscrew-like descent toward the growing light until he emerges onto a small, solitary stone ledge.
Danan stands at the world's edge, a speck of holy dust, gazing at the dazzling stars, the infinite sky, and an ocean of rolling clouds. The Great Moon shines brightly, while The One's magnificent nebula eye gazes down upon the world. The 'Dead Moon' hangs in the vast sky, an eternal reminder of the fragile nature of the world of Avos. Once a radiant beacon of light, the Dead Moon now exists as a vast, lifeless orb, casting an eternal shadow—the great black eye in the sky. There are none remaining who remember the light of the first moon. The Dead Moon exists only as a pitch-black reminder that the world of Avos is frail in the infinite space that holds all things in fathomless palms. Once a bright star of light, the Dead Moon hangs a vast orbed blot of extinguished life. The eternal shadow in the sky is a great black eye that never sees, sleeps or cries.
The wind gusts into his squinting eyes, and Danan's mind swirls with unanswered questions. His reluctant gaze wanders over the narrow cliff ledge, and his stomach lurches as he peers down to a thick blanket of slate-gray clouds beneath him. A gentle hue of distant sunlight illuminates the frozen stone floor, where white frost winks back at him. A weathered ladder, crafted from battered wood and coarse rope, dangles from the obsidian cliff face. The emerging dawn lights the first rung of the ladder, pointing the way. The One wills it. Danan falls to his knees with a resigned sigh and edges backward until his feet hang off the cliff's edge. He places a shaking foot on the first rung of the ladder. Rung by rung, gripped by fear, his unblinking eyes remain fixed on the jagged rock, rope, and fragile wood as he lowers himself down the edge of his world.
The ladder sways, teasing him to fly, a loose foothold, his numb fingers grasping at nothing but whistling air. Danan plummets, free-falling like a loose stone, hurtling through the soft clouds until, with a bone-shattering thud, he hits the earth below.
Danan forces his blurring eyes open, stealing a brief glimpse of death. He mutters a final prayer spat from a mouthful of bubbling blood as his world turns cold and is consumed by an unknowing black.