The world had changed, all in an instant. Valos had fallen, Carad’aknien had seen him fall under the sword he now held clutched in his hands, his body vanishing in an explosion of light that had burned away every flower and green thing in the south and covered that land in darkness. The darkness had still covered everything when Carad had left, and he had seen the Cursed One screaming his triumph from the pinnacles of mountains he had formed, great rings of them where the strikes and blows of Valos and Necros had fallen. His flames had illuminated the darkness, burning the darkness itself. Carad had never seen anything like it before, nor felt anything like it. Horror and terror. He had seen the unthinkable, people dying by the hands of another. The things he had seen when he had flown back on the Ships of Light had been even more horrible. Water gushing and bubbling and flooding up from underneath the earth, covering it in a lake, a thousand times vaster than any Valayen had ever seen. The mer people must have all been wiped out in an instant, Carad felt certain. The water had been as hot as the lava that had gushed up from the places where the earth still stood. The mountains that the dwarves called home had simply fallen over and collapsed as the two armies fought, burying and covering the warriors. The souls, cursed by Valos, of the enemies had not left Valayen. Carad had seen them all drawn into a great mountain that had risen from the ground. The rest had either been covered in great heaps of stone and earth from the fallen mountains, drowned in the unbelievable huge lakes that had flooded up from the ground, or been burned to death in the lava. Few had lived, Carad knew that much. The Firstborn had all taken to the Ships of Light, searching for survivors, anyone to rescue from the rubble of the world, doing whatever they could to save the world they had been made to protect, but even they had to know it was hopeless. That world was gone, broken and destroyed in a matter of hours. Carad shivered, as he looked up towards the blackening and reddening sky above him. A few leagues away a huge vortex was rotating slowly towards him, flames roaring in the center and red lightning spraying from it’s center Carad had flown his Ship of Light far from the Cursed One, but the Cursed One was coming closer, Carad could see that. The center of the hurricane was not fire, it was him. Carad looked at the work he had done. Not nearly deep enough, but it would have to do. The walls of Valendar were high and mighty, he doubted even the Cursed One in all his new found power could destroy them. Something had to be able to stand up to the Cursed One. Something had too. Or else… Carad did not even dare to think of what else. The vortex was coming even closer. Earth-shattering cracks of thunder rang in Carad’s ears as the ground beneath him heaved, throwing him onto his face. He rose from the ground, his legs shaking and his swarthy face bloodied. Carad stared in shock as the tops of the buildings, miles above the soil of Valayen, collapsed like trees before a woodsman’s ax. They fell, crashing into one another and exploding into thousands of pieces as the entire city was ripped to pieces. Flames and winds roared around people, their screams unable to be heard as they burned and drifted in the wind like leaves. Carad lifted his face from where he had fallen as despair gripped him.
“No!” he moaned. “What is this? Why has Valos abandoned us?”
He took no notice as the vortex began to descend from the sky, submerging the fallen city in darkness and sending the rubble whipping around in devastating circles that crashed against the unyielding walls. Not even the vortex that had leveled the mighty topless towers of Valendar with just the gusts from its approach could destroy that wall. Carad knew he had hidden it well. The Cursed One would not be able to find it. A column of white hot fire streaked down from the heart of the vortex, landing in front of Carad as he drew his dagger and prepared to plunge it into his heart. Valos was gone, and the Cursed One came to end Valayen. Better to die by a dagger then by torture that would last the rest of the age. A figure that burned as brightly as the sun as if cloaked in white hot flame stepped from the vortex, that still roared with all its fury above them, ending the suffering of all fortunate enough to be caught in its wrath. Carad screamed as the air around became warm, and then hot, and then searing as his flesh blistered. He swung the dagger wildly at his chest, but something caught it and held it back. The pure shining white figure of a man taller than even the elves simply waved his hand, and the dagger flew from his grasp to land pointfirst in the rubble around him.
“Where have you hidden it?”
“What have you done?” Carad screamed. “Look at Valayen, look at the world you were created to protect! Look at what you have done to it.”
Carad gestured wildly at the storm thundering above him, lightning crashing like great javelins and throwing up explosions of rubble all around the city. Still the walls stood.
“Valos did not give me what is rightfully mine!” the blazing figure thundered and the storm above them spun wildly and more lightning and thunder crashed around the city. Glowing, fiery lava began to bubble up from the rubble. “I deserve his power, and his knowledge for what I have done for this place, and I have received none of it!”
“Power is for Valos alone to give and take as he sees fit!” Carad cried. “Do you mean to become Valos? What blasphemy do you claim now!”
“I will be god in Valos’s stead, and I will destroy this world that is inhabited by only the people like you, the blinded fools!” Carad felt his feet lift through the ground and his body shot through the air, until his neck was caught roughly by the blazing figure’s fist. His neck burned and he smelled his own flesh as it charred, and he began to choke as the inexorable hand squeezed tighter. “Where is the sword?”
“It is gone,” Carad gasped, his finger feebly pulling at the hand, but they melted away, and he felt no pain. “You are not worthy of it anymore.”
The Cursed One cast him down upon the rubble and stabbed a finger in his direction.
“You and all the Aemlin are fools! The people of Valayen will hunt you down like animals until not one of your kind is left for aiding me in the forging.”
“That may be,” Carad lifted himself, crouching on his hands and knees, his head bowed in weariness before the awful glory of the Cursed One. “But death is only the beginning of eternal glory. We will not suffer.”
“Then I will make death the end!” the Cursed One roared. “The sword is mine! Give it to me! It is my right!”
“No!” Carad whispered. “You gave up your rights when you betrayed the one who gave them to you.”
The Cursed One screamed in fury and the storm whipped itself to an intensity so great that near the entirety of the ruins were thrown into the air and whipped in circles above them as lightning shattered them to dust. The pieces of the great towers of Valendar disappeared into clouds of dust. Carad prepared himself as the Cursed One lowered his hands towards him, he felt his skin prickle as lightning built itself up above him. It would be a great stroke, one that felt like it would gouge a hole through Valayen itself, but it never came. The feeling went away,and he heard the winds die down, and the storm disappear. He looked up. The storm was gone. Heavy clouds and a red sky still hung over what remained of the city, the dust of stone and wood and the ashes of the people, for Valayen still trembled as it fought against its own death. Carad knew it would win. Valos would not let his world come to naught, even from beyond the grave he would not. Carad looked back at where he had hidden the sword. The place in the wall still looked as if it had never been touched, but within it held the most powerful tool the world would ever see, the very first of its kind to be used for war. Valos forbid it would never be found or used again. Carad looked away, sighing. He had done what he could. Valos had intervened, and the Cursed One was gone, perhaps for good, but not likely. Firstborn could not be slain, and the Cursed One was still a Firstborn, even if he was unworthy to be one. Still, he was right. A bone-crushing weariness came over Carad as he summoned his Ship of Light and prepared to travel. The Cursed One had had great influence over the people, and the Firstborn had already killed some of the Aemlin for forging the sword. They must hide, or they would all be wiped out. He must return to his clan. They would hide, just as he had hidden the sword, in the depths of the world, and he did not know if they would ever return.
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