Prologue: The Scholar’s Tale
Come closer, young one. Sit beside me near the fire—these bones feel the chill of many winters. Let my voice guide you back through the mists of time, to an age long before your birth, to the tragedy that reshaped our world.
Once, upon the great eastern shores of Aetherun, stood the city of Haderon. Majestic, glorious, and proud, it rose with spires of black marble and domes glistening like starlight, built upon the veins of a wondrous crystal we called Veltryn. It shimmered, shifting in hues from emerald to violet to molten gold, and its power could heal, destroy, and even drive men mad.
Many, blinded by greed or ambition, delved deeply into the earth, desperate to harness this gift of the gods. But gifts divine are not for mortals to claim lightly. Veltryn began to whisper, to resonate, and finally—to scream. On a fateful night, Haderon’s foundations cracked open, unleashing a blinding torrent of pure, unchecked energy. When silence returned, our city was gone, leaving only The Maw—a gaping wound in Aetherun, ringed with ruin, pulsing with the poisonous allure of exposed Veltryn.
A hundred years have passed since that catastrophe, yet the echoes of Haderon still haunt our world. Some wander to The Maw, drawn by dreams or whispers, hoping for redemption or power. But beware, my apprentice; the lure of Veltryn is treacherous. It promises everything but grants only ruin.
Remember this well, for soon it will be your tale to tell.
