Prologue
Memories of King Tyrel Salvidawn
I wearily push the golden doors open and drag myself across the threshold into the sanctuary. Each step is in the uncertain. Should this be my last thought, then I wish to share it with another so that our fight, our sacrifices, may give you hope in despair. The battle will not end, not while there is one last Sentinel to fight for the safety of Anmor. Although I do not know what may become of me, my faith in this soldier grants me the strength to take this final walk to my end. If this dark shroud is to consume me, it will not find me begging for mercy in the dust and ruin.
My recent journey through time to Zynoo has taken the last of my energy, but my resolve has never been stronger. Yet, despite the fire in my soul, I am no contest for the evil that is on my trail. Neither fear nor nostalgic delusions cloud my vision. I know that I am no longer the powerful warrior who held the mantel of King of the Aetherealm and Supreme Guardian of Anmor. I was once able to wield the power of the Light, but now it is impossible for me to carry my sword. The mighty Dawn Shard drags along the dusty, marble floor behind my shuffling feet as they carry me to a familiar destination. I set the blade beside the magnificent golden throne of the Aetherealm and lower myself wearily into the seat that I have occupied these many years. My armoured hand rises to comfort my tired face, and I close my eyes, finding a reprieve in the cold metal of my armour. This is the first time that the armour has been void of the warmth of the Light, a sign that all is not well in the Aetherealm. A glance around the throne room echoes this omen. There is no longer warmth in this sanctuary of peace. Out in the courtyard, the tree that Sarganium magically conjured stands barren, stripped of the lush leaves that symbolised the life giving power of the Guardians of Anmor. Scorch marks mar the walls of this ancient sanctum, serving as a morose reminder of the fierce battle between Sephiron and Arlen within this hallowed place. We found strength in friendship and through this, we ensured the longest era of peace across Anmor. Now that fellowship lies shattered, fading into nothing but a memory amidst the all consuming shades of war.
I lightly trace my fingers across the cloak pin I received from Luminara at my coronation. Even the kindness that she brought to this realm has withered into the encroaching shadows. Ironically, I was the one who started us upon this path of destruction, yet I am the only one that remains. Perhaps my old friend wanted me to experience this suffering in solitude. He has succeeded.
I rest my eyes and lay my head back as I reflect upon my journey. I remember when it began. When honour, loyalty and justice were virtues that bound our fate. When we lived what has been lost to legend. I remember the day Alaris, the mighty and benevolent Scion of Light, charged my brethren and me to protect Anmor from the terrors of the Obsidious. She entitled us the Guardians of Anmor, her final act of grace in the protection of her beloved galaxy. My fellow Guardians appointed me their King shortly after our victory over Nethriziin. I was to lead them in protecting the four realms from whatever evil arose. Sadly, I failed in my duty even before I started.
Some would say that it was the Exiled acting alone, but my conscience knew better. When Thaedis learnt of my deception, he forwent all reason. He believed I had betrayed our friendship, but all I intended was to protect him. I attempted to explain this to my former student, but he would have none of it and swore vengeance upon us. He sought to destroy everything that was precious to me, from my friends to the realm that I ruled.
His first assault was upon the Guardians themselves. United, we drove his army of Edarians back into the depths of the Obsidious. With the Aetherealm free from the taint of Thaedis’s dark magic, we converged upon the abomination. Yet we could not have fathomed the depths of the Obsidious that Thaedis had traversed, for hatred beyond comprehension fuelled his power. He had been the most powerful among us, and it was with great difficulty that we finally defeated him using a shard of the Valinthian Stone to strip his Guardian powers. I remember looking down my blade as I pressed it to the neck of the Zenorian who had been my closest friend. I looked into his eyes and saw the flame of hate burning so fiercely, despite his broken body and his power now trapped deep within the shard. I knew I should bring my sword down upon him and put an end to the horror. Every part of my being urged me to do this, but I could not kill him. He was my friend. Little did I realise for the echoes of our friendship blinded me, the Zenorian I had befriended all those years ago no longer existed. He was now nothing more than a vessel filled with a deep-seated hatred and an insatiable thirst for vengeance. The very venom from which I tried to save him now consumed him. I could not kill him. He was my friend. To kill him in cold blood would make me no better than what he had become. Choosing to spare him, I banished Thaedis from the Aetherealm. I believed that without the immortality afforded to him by his Guardian powers, he would wither away. Once again, I underestimated my former student.
Thaedis disappeared from my sights, and I believed him to be dead, but he was far from giving in to death. I could not have imagined the extent of his obsession with the powers that lived within the Obsidious. Thaedis cast his soul into the darkness. Within this dark embalming, he survived the ages. I do not know where he sought refuge, but an uneasy feeling surfaced that he was biding his time, awaiting the opportune moment to strike.
A little more than three thousand years ago, a Zenorian sorcerer attempted to bring down a veil of chaos upon the galaxy. He was weak, but his magic reminded me of Thaedis. I looked into the future and foresaw the return of my former friend. In that instant, I knew I must break the vows I took when I became a Guardian, or certain doom would befall the people of the Maelinthian.
After the defeat of Lord Aeron and the army of Dorassi, I assumed my Zenorian form and travelled to my home planet. A shadow crept across the land. Though merely a wisp, I knew what the future held because of it. I had to act immediately. I took the Valinthian shard I had used to defeat Thaedis to the Order of the Vokarii. I knew that I was breaking yet another of the Guardian laws, but it was unavoidable. I revealed myself to the Head of the Order, a powerful Mage named Kashari Elder-Fire and to King Regarius, ruler of Kel-Ardimus. I requested them to commission the making of a powerful sword and an innocuous artefact. I returned a few days later and placed Thaedis’s power into the artefact, which I entrusted into the care of King Regarius. He had the artefact sealed deep below the palace. Kashari infused the sword with her spirit, and the Order became the custodians of the weapon. However, this was just the beginning.
I did not know what Thaedis was planning, but I learnt that a thirst for vengeance was a primal facet of his being. I knew he would seek revenge upon the Guardians for his exile. Our strength was beginning to wane, and our sight into the galaxy was diminishing. The magical bonds that tied us to the Maelinthian were weakening, and I was certain that Thaedis was responsible.
Shortly after the defeat of Lord Aeron, I felt a stirring within the darkness. I sensed that strong magic had converged as a single entity in the heart of the Obsidious. The uneasiness that crept upon me as I sensed Thaedis’s death, urged me to seek this entity. Heeding this apprehension, I ventured into the depths of the Obsidious and walked among the corrupt souls as they suffered their penance. Their pained, dreary eyes followed my every step. They flailed their arms feebly, perhaps to warn me to leave that horrid place, but I could not leave, for I wanted to know what was happening. I needed to know. However, I had foolishly stepped into a trap. Something attacked me from the darkness with a laugh that could only belong to Thaedis himself. I retreated from that wretched place, seeking the sanctuary of the Aetherealm. The wounds from the attack healed rapidly beneath the holy Light of the Valinthian Stone. It was only then that I began to see the true extent of Thaedis’s plan.
Upon my return to the Aetherealm, the curse began to seep into my heart and the hearts of my fellow Guardians. We began to experience blackouts, followed by hallucinations of a hooded figure commanding us into battle. Sometimes, we would regain consciousness and find ourselves on planets wrought by devastation born of our powers that had escaped our control. As we looked around in horror at what we had done, Thaedis’s cold laughter would fill our minds. We could feel the claws of guilt and fear tearing into our souls, but we could do nothing more than observe.
Occasionally, the Guardians would show an uncharacteristic hostility towards one another. Arlen and Sephiron were the first to disappear from our realm. After a brutal battle between the former friends, they fell to the curse and became the eternal slaves of the Exiled. Perhaps if we had worked together, we would not have fallen into darkness. However, it was too late now for us to save ourselves. Each year that passed, we felt the curse growing stronger. We resisted as best we could, fighting to hold back the shadows within our hearts and minds, but Thaedis proved too cunning. He had learnt of the demons within each of us and forced us to face the one enemy we had never taken the time to fight.
Eventually, I was the only remaining Guardian, and I could feel my strength leaving me like steam into a cold night’s air. Just like those before me, I could see what was happening, but I could not stop what Thaedis had set in motion. I knew that I could not defeat him again. I had my chance, and I had allowed him to develop into a power that would terrify Anmor unopposed. However, this was only for a brief moment. I saw that there was one last chance at hope. Using what strength I had, I travelled through time to do what was needed for this hope to survive.
Now as the final remnants of my being dissipate into the cold and unfriendly shadows, I leave you, my friend, with this final memory of mine. I pray to the Spirits that it is not too late for the young Zenorian I foresaw to be the last great King. Only he can contest the Wrath of the Exiled.
Memories of King Tyrel Salvidawn
I wearily push the golden doors open and drag myself across the threshold into the sanctuary. Each step is in the uncertain. Should this be my last thought, then I wish to share it with another so that our fight, our sacrifices, may give you hope in despair. The battle will not end, not while there is one last Sentinel to fight for the safety of Anmor. Although I do not know what may become of me, my faith in this soldier grants me the strength to take this final walk to my end. If this dark shroud is to consume me, it will not find me begging for mercy in the dust and ruin.
My recent journey through time to Zynoo has taken the last of my energy, but my resolve has never been stronger. Yet, despite the fire in my soul, I am no contest for the evil that is on my trail. Neither fear nor nostalgic delusions cloud my vision. I know that I am no longer the powerful warrior who held the mantel of King of the Aetherealm and Supreme Guardian of Anmor. I was once able to wield the power of the Light, but now it is impossible for me to carry my sword. The mighty Dawn Shard drags along the dusty, marble floor behind my shuffling feet as they carry me to a familiar destination. I set the blade beside the magnificent golden throne of the Aetherealm and lower myself wearily into the seat that I have occupied these many years. My armoured hand rises to comfort my tired face, and I close my eyes, finding a reprieve in the cold metal of my armour. This is the first time that the armour has been void of the warmth of the Light, a sign that all is not well in the Aetherealm. A glance around the throne room echoes this omen. There is no longer warmth in this sanctuary of peace. Out in the courtyard, the tree that Sarganium magically conjured stands barren, stripped of the lush leaves that symbolised the life giving power of the Guardians of Anmor. Scorch marks mar the walls of this ancient sanctum, serving as a morose reminder of the fierce battle between Sephiron and Arlen within this hallowed place. We found strength in friendship and through this, we ensured the longest era of peace across Anmor. Now that fellowship lies shattered, fading into nothing but a memory amidst the all consuming shades of war.
I lightly trace my fingers across the cloak pin I received from Luminara at my coronation. Even the kindness that she brought to this realm has withered into the encroaching shadows. Ironically, I was the one who started us upon this path of destruction, yet I am the only one that remains. Perhaps my old friend wanted me to experience this suffering in solitude. He has succeeded.
I rest my eyes and lay my head back as I reflect upon my journey. I remember when it began. When honour, loyalty and justice were virtues that bound our fate. When we lived what has been lost to legend. I remember the day Alaris, the mighty and benevolent Scion of Light, charged my brethren and me to protect Anmor from the terrors of the Obsidious. She entitled us the Guardians of Anmor, her final act of grace in the protection of her beloved galaxy. My fellow Guardians appointed me their King shortly after our victory over Nethriziin. I was to lead them in protecting the four realms from whatever evil arose. Sadly, I failed in my duty even before I started.
Some would say that it was the Exiled acting alone, but my conscience knew better. When Thaedis learnt of my deception, he forwent all reason. He believed I had betrayed our friendship, but all I intended was to protect him. I attempted to explain this to my former student, but he would have none of it and swore vengeance upon us. He sought to destroy everything that was precious to me, from my friends to the realm that I ruled.
His first assault was upon the Guardians themselves. United, we drove his army of Edarians back into the depths of the Obsidious. With the Aetherealm free from the taint of Thaedis’s dark magic, we converged upon the abomination. Yet we could not have fathomed the depths of the Obsidious that Thaedis had traversed, for hatred beyond comprehension fuelled his power. He had been the most powerful among us, and it was with great difficulty that we finally defeated him using a shard of the Valinthian Stone to strip his Guardian powers. I remember looking down my blade as I pressed it to the neck of the Zenorian who had been my closest friend. I looked into his eyes and saw the flame of hate burning so fiercely, despite his broken body and his power now trapped deep within the shard. I knew I should bring my sword down upon him and put an end to the horror. Every part of my being urged me to do this, but I could not kill him. He was my friend. Little did I realise for the echoes of our friendship blinded me, the Zenorian I had befriended all those years ago no longer existed. He was now nothing more than a vessel filled with a deep-seated hatred and an insatiable thirst for vengeance. The very venom from which I tried to save him now consumed him. I could not kill him. He was my friend. To kill him in cold blood would make me no better than what he had become. Choosing to spare him, I banished Thaedis from the Aetherealm. I believed that without the immortality afforded to him by his Guardian powers, he would wither away. Once again, I underestimated my former student.
Thaedis disappeared from my sights, and I believed him to be dead, but he was far from giving in to death. I could not have imagined the extent of his obsession with the powers that lived within the Obsidious. Thaedis cast his soul into the darkness. Within this dark embalming, he survived the ages. I do not know where he sought refuge, but an uneasy feeling surfaced that he was biding his time, awaiting the opportune moment to strike.
A little more than three thousand years ago, a Zenorian sorcerer attempted to bring down a veil of chaos upon the galaxy. He was weak, but his magic reminded me of Thaedis. I looked into the future and foresaw the return of my former friend. In that instant, I knew I must break the vows I took when I became a Guardian, or certain doom would befall the people of the Maelinthian.
After the defeat of Lord Aeron and the army of Dorassi, I assumed my Zenorian form and travelled to my home planet. A shadow crept across the land. Though merely a wisp, I knew what the future held because of it. I had to act immediately. I took the Valinthian shard I had used to defeat Thaedis to the Order of the Vokarii. I knew that I was breaking yet another of the Guardian laws, but it was unavoidable. I revealed myself to the Head of the Order, a powerful Mage named Kashari Elder-Fire and to King Regarius, ruler of Kel-Ardimus. I requested them to commission the making of a powerful sword and an innocuous artefact. I returned a few days later and placed Thaedis’s power into the artefact, which I entrusted into the care of King Regarius. He had the artefact sealed deep below the palace. Kashari infused the sword with her spirit, and the Order became the custodians of the weapon. However, this was just the beginning.
I did not know what Thaedis was planning, but I learnt that a thirst for vengeance was a primal facet of his being. I knew he would seek revenge upon the Guardians for his exile. Our strength was beginning to wane, and our sight into the galaxy was diminishing. The magical bonds that tied us to the Maelinthian were weakening, and I was certain that Thaedis was responsible.
Shortly after the defeat of Lord Aeron, I felt a stirring within the darkness. I sensed that strong magic had converged as a single entity in the heart of the Obsidious. The uneasiness that crept upon me as I sensed Thaedis’s death, urged me to seek this entity. Heeding this apprehension, I ventured into the depths of the Obsidious and walked among the corrupt souls as they suffered their penance. Their pained, dreary eyes followed my every step. They flailed their arms feebly, perhaps to warn me to leave that horrid place, but I could not leave, for I wanted to know what was happening. I needed to know. However, I had foolishly stepped into a trap. Something attacked me from the darkness with a laugh that could only belong to Thaedis himself. I retreated from that wretched place, seeking the sanctuary of the Aetherealm. The wounds from the attack healed rapidly beneath the holy Light of the Valinthian Stone. It was only then that I began to see the true extent of Thaedis’s plan.
Upon my return to the Aetherealm, the curse began to seep into my heart and the hearts of my fellow Guardians. We began to experience blackouts, followed by hallucinations of a hooded figure commanding us into battle. Sometimes, we would regain consciousness and find ourselves on planets wrought by devastation born of our powers that had escaped our control. As we looked around in horror at what we had done, Thaedis’s cold laughter would fill our minds. We could feel the claws of guilt and fear tearing into our souls, but we could do nothing more than observe.
Occasionally, the Guardians would show an uncharacteristic hostility towards one another. Arlen and Sephiron were the first to disappear from our realm. After a brutal battle between the former friends, they fell to the curse and became the eternal slaves of the Exiled. Perhaps if we had worked together, we would not have fallen into darkness. However, it was too late now for us to save ourselves. Each year that passed, we felt the curse growing stronger. We resisted as best we could, fighting to hold back the shadows within our hearts and minds, but Thaedis proved too cunning. He had learnt of the demons within each of us and forced us to face the one enemy we had never taken the time to fight.
Eventually, I was the only remaining Guardian, and I could feel my strength leaving me like steam into a cold night’s air. Just like those before me, I could see what was happening, but I could not stop what Thaedis had set in motion. I knew that I could not defeat him again. I had my chance, and I had allowed him to develop into a power that would terrify Anmor unopposed. However, this was only for a brief moment. I saw that there was one last chance at hope. Using what strength I had, I travelled through time to do what was needed for this hope to survive.
Now as the final remnants of my being dissipate into the cold and unfriendly shadows, I leave you, my friend, with this final memory of mine. I pray to the Spirits that it is not too late for the young Zenorian I foresaw to be the last great King. Only he can contest the Wrath of the Exiled.
