Ventatost
This book uses testimonials and conspiracy theories to piece together events leading up to the destruction of a Netherese city called Ventatost, which disintegrated as it flew over the forest of Cormanthor nearly two thousand years ago.
Excerpt: The old man's eyes were distant as he spoke, his voice low and heavy with emotion. "I was there, you know," he said, his words barely more than a whisper. "In Ventatost, when it all came crashing down."
The young scribe leaned forward, her quill poised over a fresh sheet of parchment. "Please, tell me what you remember," she urged, her tone gentle.
The old man closed his eyes, lost in memory. "It was a beautiful city," he said, his voice thick with nostalgia. "We had built it to soar above the clouds, and it was a sight to behold. The streets were paved with gold, and the buildings were tall and grand. And the magic...oh, the magic was like nothing I had ever seen."
He paused, his eyes opening to fix on the scribe's face. "But it was all a lie," he said, his voice bitter. "We were arrogant, selfish, and power-hungry. We thought they could do anything with magic, that we were invincible. But we were wrong."
The scribe's quill scratched furiously as the old man spoke, capturing every word. She knew that what he was saying was dangerous, that there were those who would kill to keep the truth from coming out. But she also knew that the world needed to know what had happened in Ventatost, even if it meant risking her own life.
"The end came quickly," the old man continued, his voice growing fainter. "One moment, we were soaring above the clouds, and the next, we were plummeting towards the ground. The magic that held the city aloft had failed, and there was nothing anyone could do to save it. It disintegrated as it fell, and all that was left was ash and ruin." He fell silent then, lost in thought. The scribe waited patiently, knowing that he would continue when he was ready.
"I survived," he said at last, his voice barely audible. "But I lost everything. My home, my family, my way of life. And for what? The hubris
Excerpt: The old man's eyes were distant as he spoke, his voice low and heavy with emotion. "I was there, you know," he said, his words barely more than a whisper. "In Ventatost, when it all came crashing down."
The young scribe leaned forward, her quill poised over a fresh sheet of parchment. "Please, tell me what you remember," she urged, her tone gentle.
The old man closed his eyes, lost in memory. "It was a beautiful city," he said, his voice thick with nostalgia. "We had built it to soar above the clouds, and it was a sight to behold. The streets were paved with gold, and the buildings were tall and grand. And the magic...oh, the magic was like nothing I had ever seen."
He paused, his eyes opening to fix on the scribe's face. "But it was all a lie," he said, his voice bitter. "We were arrogant, selfish, and power-hungry. We thought they could do anything with magic, that we were invincible. But we were wrong."
The scribe's quill scratched furiously as the old man spoke, capturing every word. She knew that what he was saying was dangerous, that there were those who would kill to keep the truth from coming out. But she also knew that the world needed to know what had happened in Ventatost, even if it meant risking her own life.
"The end came quickly," the old man continued, his voice growing fainter. "One moment, we were soaring above the clouds, and the next, we were plummeting towards the ground. The magic that held the city aloft had failed, and there was nothing anyone could do to save it. It disintegrated as it fell, and all that was left was ash and ruin." He fell silent then, lost in thought. The scribe waited patiently, knowing that he would continue when he was ready.
"I survived," he said at last, his voice barely audible. "But I lost everything. My home, my family, my way of life. And for what? The hubris
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