A fairly small scroll, neatly wound by a velvety, mana-enriched piece of ruby-colored twine. Despite the extreme age of the document, it shows very little aging thanks to the preservation and sealed black-lacquered box it is kept within. When unfurled and read, it reads the following ...
Let it be known as I paint these words, that I am a fool, arrogant, and unsound of mind. I accept all the criticisms of my rivals and principle lessers, for they are undoubtedly more perceptive than I. It is with this testimony that I, Hau-Joren, relinquish my role as Principle Supreme, and leave it to the wiser young bloods to find answers I could not.
Long have we dreamed being free of Imperious' slithering grasp. A world away and still her shadow lingers, and not one of us can deny what she desires. To imagine the hujanki would rear a warrior that could fight her, I wonder if I am not down my drinks so deep as to have left the world I knew. But, I know I am not, for not one ryujin would willfully wear such a stupid expression when Imperious vanished.
I knew the fires of rebellion would become too great, and our opportunity had come. We brought out our designs, and my old mistresspieces, hurriedly completing the secret array. The time had come to destroy that accursed, putrid gate and all its problems.
Let it be known I have spent centuries observing the gate, studying how it was made, how it works, and how much power it contains. For you, who reads this, you may not understand, or even appreciate, but it was necessary to make entire new words and ideas to describe that gate. It opened our eyes, as much as it clasped a shackle around our necks.
I, in my arrogance, believed my calculations perfect. If not perfect, then with such preparation and readiness, any variance could be accounted for.
I still do not know where I went wrong.
Our plan went according to detail, and without issue. We crushed the gate, collapsed the door between us and them, and the power that followed ...
I do not know how to describe it.
I, who stood on the Vanda Plains, watched as a wall of smoke and debris rose across the heavens. From all the way across the world, where the capital once stood. Then, the air itself pummeled me, and nearly shattered my ears--even through my protective spells. Others were not so fortunate.
Then came the mana, and the tidal wave that yawned behind it. I knew, in an instant, my array would not suffice to handle the power. We, too, would suffer the fate of the capital, and all I had done was bought minutes to await that doom.
Still, I tried, and we did all we could to guide the explosive power coming. The array, the plains, all the villages and mages--everything would be sacrificed, if it meant the rest of the lands could be saved. It was unsuccessful. There was simply too much.
Then, they came.
I have known about them, and even seen them twice with my own eyes. Digging through the air itself like worms, appearing and disappearing without reason or sanity, yet always doing so. Thrumming with pure power, controlled with such perfection my own efforts are like a baby spitting across the ground. Stone crafted so flawlessly it gleamed like glass, and words of a language utterly unknowable.
They came by the dozens, appearing as far as my eyes could see, all along the array. The ground tore up as power exploded forth, and they ... did something. Siphoned away the mana, drawing it into themselves or somewhere else. Was it too much, even for them? The long, winding crater that grew with the violent energies continued, even with them doing their business.
It is funny, how much a few minutes felt like years to me.
When the explosive power had finally drained away, those silent worms dug away through the air, vanishing just as much as they had before.
Had they come to save us?
Or simply profit from our imminent demise?
I do not know.
We yet lived because of them, nonetheless.
There was nothing I could do to save us.
As I write this, the World Gate is no more, and we are free at last. Imperious' empire falls into ruin, and our lands are our own once again. A scar cuts through the world where my array once stood, and the oceans rush in, flooding my wounds with their horrid burning.
It is, to my knowledge, the visitors also appeared at the ruins of the capital, seemingly containing the world-thundering blast there. I have yet to see it myself; I do not think myself able to.
It is only by the grace of powers unnameable that my people yet live.
While they rejoice with their kept lives, I, all too aware, understand my failure.
I shall do as my hujanki father once did, and go tend the family shrine.
At the least, I cannot destroy everything by sweeping up leaves.
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