Truth of the Cradle
Note! The following information is not generally known. It should not be spread outside of these
Codices to avoid breaching
planar agreements.
![hanhula_SIDE_PERSPECTIVE_concept_art_of_an_angelic_figure_sacri_36479c9d-6e6a-493c-8993-4192f459743c.webp](https://wa-cdn.nyc3.digitaloceanspaces.com/user-data/production/da93c838-919d-4963-a48b-e4ebd0b14114/uploads/images/07237df9e2bd4bccaaa61bce6dcefc72.webp)
Herald's Sacrifice by Hanhula (via Midjourney)
The truth of the Cradle is somewhat more tragic than usually known, and was only learnt through discussions with a
deity's assistants. The Cradle was crafted not by mortal hands, and yet not by any divinity. They were an act of rebellion by a deity's
herald against their deity - a
final act. Once, deities were free to interfere upon Istralar, and used the mortal realm as a battlefield. Countless reminders of this abuse lie across the planet's surface.
The Cradle is not a remnant of this ancient time. Heralds have never been forbidden from the mortal realm, nor have deities been prevented from unleashing their wrath through proxies.
In Kirinui's high peaks, there lived a community of early
arcane mages during the time through which arcane magic was little known and highly reviled. They lived peaceful, isolationist lives, their focus on understanding their newfound powers in a manner that reduced danger to those around them.
When a follower of a now-forgotten deity stumbled across news of them, he prayed to his deity for guidance - for he knew that his deity despised the use of this magic, condemning its release to mortals and disavowing all who revelled in its existence.
It's hard with these remote areas - are the myths true, passed down by people who witnessed them once, or are they made up?
What happened to the people who would know?
Why are there no signs of any of this? There's nothing left but mystery - and black soil, in this case, I guess.— scholar
The man was gifted an army for his information, and now bearing the mantle of
Champion, set out to eliminate this threat.
The deity's herald was once mortal himself, and held great affection for mortals. Upon seeing an isolated community doing no harm and trying to learn to master a gift that none of them had asked for, he was horrified, and pleaded with his deity to rescind the orders. The deity refused. The one allowance his long-time friend and loyal servant was given was that he might go down and speak to the new Champion to ensure the punishments were fair. That their deaths would be painless.
This is madness, Champion! They are people! You would lay waste to people living in peace-- for what glory? For what justice?!
We do not follow his rulings in blindness. We are not slaves to ideals, and we are capable of making our choices.
If you are so unwilling to listen to the ideals that we have served for millennia, then I renounce he who I have served faithfully for centuries upon centuries!— the nameless herald
The herald did not speak to the Champion: instead, he flew to the commune, and used a great amount of his own power to see as many as possible sent away. Some were rescued to other planes of existence, others to friendlier places across the seas, but there was a limit to the herald's strength. For the rest, he remained. He had them gather at the centre of their small home and placed a barrier around them, and waited.
When the army came, and the Champion decried him as a betrayer, the herald reached into his very soul and unleashed every drop of power he could in the mortals' defence.
It wouldn't have worked if it had been an attack. In defence, though, his life's magic became a reflecting shield. The radiant beams of destruction brought down by the attackers was flung back upon them, and all the land scorched black with the sheer force of it. The army was eliminated, but so too was the herald.
Though even the earth beneath them was blackened by the force of flame, the shield had held. The few mages were safe. The shield itself crystallised from the force of it, becoming the black rock seen today; even now, the herald's magic lingers.
The mages would eventually be collected by other deities in the creation of
Terra Arcana, torn from their home to live on a planet of blackened spires. It is presumed that here, the truth of the Cradle died. Over time, the earth recovered. The Cradle, and the blackened soil within it, is all that remembers.
Sounds like a really cool place
Honestly, it's probably pretty warm most of the year-- oh, the OTHER cool. Thank you :D
welcome to my signature! check out istralar!