The End

The apocalypse comes in many forms here, each still circling the time the ocean finally reclaims the land, dragging each and every living thing back down to the dark.

Aquimore

They've always tried to flee the sea. To conquer it outright. To master the waves, and beat Qhil back, even if for only a moment. They've always feared the deep. As they should.

For Aquimore it is the volcanoes they can see from their coasts, that make up parts of their lands. Some day they will erupt as one, and when that happens, the land will finally crack into pieces and be washed away.

Vohai

Vohai knows the world will end in fire. In the temperatures rising too high too quickly, and the ice covering much of their world will melt. They will vanish beneath the new waves. They will drown, alone in the dark, to be hunted and torn apart by the mer they've harmed.

Iospadia

Iospadia burns. It is not a pretty thing. There is no justice, no art, not even the vaguest sense of beauty in its collapse. There is only the flames, and the thick smoke that chokes the life out of any within its grasp.

The water that would have saved them has gone, as they'd tried to remove it before. Only now do they desire it.

Gostary

Gostary falls as ice melt washes away its topsoil, its trees. It falls as the water levels fall, exposing long-buried sins, and long-buried corpses. The drought kills the plants used for medicine. The drought uncovers the bits of flesh still intact, from bodies left in the muck, still harbouring disease. The drought sparks wildfires. The drought forces people to crowd around drying lakes.

The drought has done its part, now. The new arisen plague may do the rest.

It is allowed to eat its way through the people. There is nothing to stop it. There was never anything to truly stop it. Corpses line the streets. Rats eat those corpses. Gostary is consumed.

Jestoania

Jestoania collapses into the sea. The ice and snow finally melts away, leaving rock and dry ground. The earth it sits on splits apart, the jagged teeth of new canyons swallowing up cities. They all fall. It doesn't matter which way they fall-- whether into the earth or the sea, they all fall.

Estrea

Estrea's apocalypse is not big. It is not extravagant. It is as humble as the people. The sea will rise, their islands will fall, and while some will delay an inevitable truth by fleeing on boats, they will all end eventually.

Brosha

Poor Brosha, doomed long before its time. The mushrooms that spread the Pox will multiply, across the waves, along the shores. Disease and rot will wipe them all out. And when their streets lie empty, their waters littered with dead, the beasts of the sea will reclaim what was stolen. This is not the way they deserve to go. No one deserves to go this way. And yet they will. Because that is the way of things.

Eilt Un

Finally, the Eilt. It's lineage of mighty hunters. Its powerful people, given a final monster to wage war against.[p/]

Because beneath the Eilt Un is a beast. It sleeps peacefully, until it's time to awaken. When it awakens, it will rise. When it rises, it will destroy the islands above. The largest of the mighty crocodiles, finally returning from its slumber to wreak war against the people who subdued it. The beast will tear apart the Eilt, until nothing remains. And when that happens, it will once more bury itself in the wreckage of its rampage, and sleep again.

For all of these, one thing is certain. Qhil will take back what was always hers. Whether it takes days or centuries, it doesn't matter. She can wait. She will wait.