Hydall's Recollection of Tyshala
Buried deep within Hydall God of the Arcane's library exists his diaries of personal writings that span across the centuries. In this entry he recalls the death of Tyshala, the former goddess of the night.
The pen stills in my hand as I recount what must not be forgotten. Tyshala, my radiant friend is no more; slain by the very light she stood beside. How could Krorone, her sister in both life and divine essence, commit such an act? She wept for Tyshala in ages past, but her blade carved a wound into the heavens. The Solaris Sheath that I helped her craft to temper darkness was never meant for this. I was there when she first gifted it, a moment of peace woven into celestial intent. Yet I saw the flicker of fear in her eyes—the creeping whispers of mortals clamoring for safety. Fear...they call it. Though it is pride that curses those pathetic mortals believing light superior to shadow! And Krorone listened! I wonder now was my aid a mistake? By helping her forge that artifact did I sow the seed of Tyshala’s demise? For a month the world burned and I watched helplessly as light consumed the balance. The mortal lands writhed in agony beneath Krorone's unchecked dominion with their screams echoing to our divine ears. A mortal named Felotl was chosen to bear the light, yet he ascended amidst ash and grief. Lady Creation too marked this tragedy, placing the a reminder called the moon as a pale echo of Tyshala, a mirror of what once was to reflect the light back into the face of Krorone in the dark so she will always remember what she once was. But father...Malrath God of Destruction went deeper. Tyshala was his chosen. His charge. Krorone took it away. Mortals no longer remember Tyshala. Their memories, temples, histories—all consumed in Destruction’s wrath. Even her name is a whisper on my lips, fleeting and fragile. Only I-it seems for now-hold her memory intact. I must guard it, lest this crime vanish into the void of forgotten time. And what of Tyshala’s soul? Gods do not die easily, yet I feel her absence like a severed limb the moment it happened An emptiness resonated deep within me. What remains of her? Can divinity truly perish? Her mortal shell lies amidst elven ruins, untouched since the deed was done. Does it hold a fragment of her essence or is it merely a husk? Krorone bears the shadow now, a penance as ironic as it is tragic. Once the goddess of light, she now stewards what she destroyed. I wonder if Felotl feels the weight of his station as deeply as Krorone bears hers. The stars above do not speak of what lies beyond death for us. Tyshala might yet linger, unseen, unfelt, but present. Or she may be scattered with her essence dispersed into the fabric of the universe and the arcane tapestry. For now, I write to remember. I write to warn. I write to hope that such a rift may never mar the divine again. May the gods forgive us, for we cannot forgive ourselves.Hydall
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