Foreword by Haliveris Halvorson
As I ventured deeper into the ancient histories of Avanté, my path took me far from the lands I once called home, across the treacherous Iron Sea to the island of Kerisil. What I discovered was not merely a history of conquest or survival, but a chilling tale of transformation—of a race reborn through dark magic, and a people haunted by their own creation. The story of the Sespirin is one that has slipped through the cracks of time, buried beneath waves both literal and figurative. Yet, through perseverance and careful research, I have pieced together their rise, their tragic undoing, and their continued existence in the shadows of our world.
This account serves as a reminder of the power of forgotten magic, and how easily the curious can fall prey to forces far older than they understand. I invite you, reader, to walk with me through the past and see what remains of the Sespirin—ancient, serpentine, and ever-wary of the consequences of their rebirth.
The Exploration of Snake Mountain
It was a time of great upheaval in the eastern regions of Avanté, far across the Iron Sea from the tranquil lands of Tir Volen. War's shadow loomed heavy over the land, and its fiery breath scorched the cities, forcing countless souls to abandon their homes in search of peace. Many fled to the coast, and from the shattered fringes of the East, a colony was born on the nearby island of Kerisil. What began as a refuge for the displaced soon grew into a sanctuary for outcasts of all kinds—a melting pot of races, where dwarves, elves, humans, and others mingled to escape the ravages of conflict.
Kerisil was an idyllic place, nestled in the shadow of the imposing Snake Mountain, named for the band of trees that wound like a serpent's scales along its slopes. Yet, beneath its tranquil veneer lay ancient mysteries, long forgotten by the world above. It was during this uneasy peace that a fateful explorer, a curious Fey by the name of Darseelily, stumbled upon a great secret hidden in the mountain's heart.
Darseelily was a trickster at heart, drawn to the mysteries of magic like a moth to flame. His journey took him to the summit of Snake Mountain, where a vast stone door, long concealed, lay dormant. With a few incantations and a mischievous gleam in his eye, Darseelily used Fey trickery to force the ancient seal open. A booming sound, so loud it echoed as far as Annukhen, reverberated across the island. In an instant, the door’s defensive magic struck him down, hurling him back, but Darseelily, undeterred, floated back to the entrance.
The Sisters of the Mask
Inside, the mountain held an eerie silence. Towering above the Fey explorer stood two colossal statues—women with serpentine bodies and snakes in place of hair. These statues, long forgotten by time, began to crack and crumble as the light touched them, revealing the ancient beings within. Out from the stone came two living women, Dorissa and Herissa, sisters and the last of a race long lost to the ages: the Sespirin.
The sisters welcomed Darseelily with open arms, seducing him with their grace and luring him deep into the mountain’s heart. There, in a sacred chamber illuminated by the magical waters of a great spring, they bade him join them. Entranced by their beauty and mystery, Darseelily complied, immersing himself in the waters. He was paralyzed as the magic surged through him, transforming him from Fey to something entirely new—a grotesque figure, a snake-like man with writhing serpents upon his head. In that moment, Darseelily was no more; in his place stood Fangren Lilly, the first of the new Sespirin.
The sisters, with their serpent's charm and ancient magics, warped Fangren’s mind, bending him to their will. They revealed that the Sespirin were once a mighty race, destroyed millennia ago, even before the Convergence, and that they alone had survived by locking themselves in the mountain, sustained by its magic. Fangren Lilly, their obedient thrall, helped them execute a grand plan to restore their race.
Together, they lured travelers into the mountain, transforming them through the cursed waters. As their numbers grew, the Sespirin launched a brutal attack on the defenseless villages below Snake Mountain. In the dead of night, they slaughtered the settlers and used dark magics to forcibly convert the survivors. The island was soon overrun, and the Sespirin ruled over Kerisil with an iron coil.
Dorissa and Herissa, the only true-blooded Sespirin, grew ambitious. They took the women from the conquered villages and initiated them into a secretive order known as the Sisters of the Mask. The sisters performed powerful rituals, transforming these women into elite Sespirin warriors, far stronger and more vicious than their male counterparts. The sisters believed that from their hidden enclave, they would eventually rise and subjugate all of Avanté.
The Birth of the Rekhasteren
But, as with all plans steeped in arrogance, theirs unraveled. Avanté is a land of ancient magic, full of unpredictable forces, and the newly transformed Sespirin were not as malleable as the sisters had hoped. Rising up against their creators, the Sespirin overthrew Dorissa and Herissa, escaping from the island and abandoning their cursed origins. In a final act of defiance, the sisters called upon their dark powers and sunk Kerisil beneath the waves of the Iron Sea, erasing its existence from the maps of men.
The Sespirin, led by Fangren Lilly, scattered to the winds. They found a sanctuary in Lethlindor, the Fey city of twilight. Though their origins were steeped in tragedy, the Sespirin sought to make new lives, ever wary of the whispers of their serpentine heritage, instead naming their new faction The Rekhasteren.
The tale of the Sespirin remains a warning to the curious, a reminder of the perils of forgotten magic and the price of rebirth.
Closing Remarks by Haliveris Halvorson
The tale of the Sespirin is not simply one of magic gone awry or of a race lost to time; it is a reflection of the dangers inherent in seeking power without understanding its full cost. Dorissa and Herissa believed themselves invincible, wielders of a magic beyond their control, and their downfall serves as a cautionary tale for all who would follow in their footsteps.
Though the Sespirin scattered to the winds, their legacy lives on in whispers, a reminder that what is buried is never truly forgotten. In the twilight of Lethlindor, they seek a life far from their cursed origins, yet the serpentine heritage runs deep, and the past has a way of resurfacing when least expected. I leave this account not as an admonition, but as a tribute to the resilience of those who were transformed—both in body and spirit—and a warning to those who would tread too close to the unknown. History, after all, has a habit of repeating itself.
Scholar Haliveris Halvorson, Seeker of Forgotten Histories
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