History
In the Aftermath of the Downfall of the Atramenous Sphere the world erupted into Chaos. The power vacuum left behind by the loss of one of the major powers reached far and wide and touched every corner of Nietsya. In the confusion and uproar it took quite a long time before anyone of any significance noticed the complete absence of the Ceruline Sphere. When an envoy was sent to the border to investigate they found the Region almost untouched but...completely empty.
Every town on the coast was abandoned with not a living soul within them. Vanished into thin air. No farm animals or pets. Nothing was disturbed. It was as if the entire village had just gotten up and left. There were no signs of any battle. No bodies, just an eerie emptiness and no explanation. Every village was the same. An entire Sphere gone.
In a Hidden Cottage somewhere in the Violacea Sphere
An old, wizened man sits amongst his books and stares into the fire. His clothes are wrinkled and unkempt, an air of weary sadness exuding from his slumped shoulders and the worry creasing his brow. A plate sits next to him, the food gone cold and untouched. Time moves forward. Night into day into night again. Thick layers of dust lay over the magical artifacts and papers thrown haphazardly around the room. Eventually his eyes move from the fire to alight on the table beside him, the pieces of the Jal Koh board the only thing in the cottage pristine and shining. One hand slowly rises to cover his eyes, small particles of dust drifting from him at the movement. He cries soundlessly, without tears for all the tears had already been wrung from him. The dried tracks stark against the wrinkles that line his face. Eventually exhausted, he falls asleep.
A loud noise awakens him, the heavy silence of the cottage disturbed by the sound. An odd noise that both clanged and swished. He rises, a flicker of alarm flashing then settling back into indifference. His slipper treads in something cold and wet, he looks down, a thin trail of water leads off into the kitchen. He follows. Silence falls on him again as his gaze sweeps the room. The kitchen is dark, the same empty feeling as the rest of the small cottage. He turns back to the main room, his footfalls somehow heavier as he trudges back.
Just as he's about to sit down a small patch of something glistening in the light catches his eye. With a sharp indrawn breath and a sudden lunge he holds up his prize. He clutches the damp paper to his breast as he carelessly throws himself into the chair. He rips open the envelope, staring at the paper nestled inside. The minutes crawl by, candles dripping time out in small spurts. The moon rises slowly in the window outside. Finally, with trembling fingers he flips the small paper open.
A spark leaps from the page and makes for the Jal Koh Board. It lands on a piece and moves it to a new space on the board making it glow before the spark shoots up and winks out in a cheerful flash of light.
Unknown Letter by Freja via Midjourney
His eyes move across the small note drinking in every word. He squints at every corner, turning it over and over again, hunting every crevice. Finding nothing more he slumps once again, but only for a moment. With every second his movements become more sure and steady, his eyes hold a gleam that had not been there before. A faint whisper of a smile tugs at the corners of his still frowning mouth. At last he turns his attention to the Jal Koh board, studying it with a burning intensity. His frown deepens and turns contemplative. Again he is still, lost in thought.
With a small soundless sigh he looks at the small missive one last time and then throws it into the fire. A flurry of dust and movement create a hot cloud that swirls through the room as he rises, barking a command. Light sparks from the multitide of candles and he begins shuffling around. Grabbing a pendant here, a sheaf of loosely bound papers there. When he is done there is a small mound of items hastily thrown into two small sacks in front of him. Seemingly satisfied he picks them up, slings them over his shoulders and with a word snuffs the candlight and the fireplace completely out. He barely glances at the cottage as he closes it up and walks purposefully into the early morning dawn, humming with the birds as he goes. Back in the cottage the small magical tendril that had moved the Jal Koh piece slowly dies out. The glowing outline of the space where the Savron queen had been now empty on the board.
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