Winds of Change

In Apora, the last warm shafts of golden sunlight ebb away, ceding beyond the horizon to the coolness of a night stained crimson beneath a bloodied moon. The aurora has gone, the stars along with it, and the brilliance of the elder tree dimmed; it's leaves stooped wearily. At it's roots the Elders kneel, their hands folded beneath their chins as they murmur in prayer to the great mother Aselene.

In Ehiasall, across the skies above Demonia streaks a lightning spectacle of deistic proportions; a magnificently terrible symphony of light and sound. Trees ignite like candle wicks wherever the divaricate tails of electricity touch while the calm, clear waters of Asag Bay churn and seethe to a dark, foaming amalgam of filth and debris that gnaws at the shores like a ravenous beast. Merchant and fishing vessels are thrust about in the turbulence, and many are sunk along with their crew.

In Aeslend, deep beneath the ever shifting sands of the Ethereal Badlands rises a dull growl like thunder underfoot, growing steadily louder, fiercer until the earth begins to tremble, then shake. Hundreds of thousands of tons of sand agitate flat as the dune ridges collapse, while rocks rattle from the mountain sides, trees convulse until their roots give out, and great caverns are torn into the crust of the earth. Then, a deafening detonation as Shilen Uul erupts in a violent explosion of rock and ash that crests the apogee north of Kaetho in a dense, black volcanic cloud, and spews to the east.

Throughout Moren Ezen, those rare individuals afflicted by Magic are beginning to show their symptoms - wielding the power of a bygone age capable of summoning storms and taming seas; of healing the sick and wounded, traversing time and even reanimating the dead.

And amidst the chaos and confusion, an incongruous certainty is realized by all...

Magic has indeed returned.

Some welcome Aslene’s gift readily, accepting the return of magic as a blessing, while others shirk away in fear, and denote eradicating it as the only way to ensure a predictable, lasting peace. Yther stands at the crossroad of a divided people, the pendulum of balance beginning to sway. Massive events are about to unfold, and just as the wind calms before the storm, so do the people of Moren Ezen hold a bated breath.