Our expedition begins today. Already we have set out from the last outpost before the grass turns to sand. The Wastes are a lonely place; even its beauty rings desolate, somehow. One cannot help but wonder: was it ambition that brought this place low - or inescapable fate?
- journal of Andira, scholar of Liyru
Long ago, in the time of the first
Harbingers, the
Araen Wastes were home to the vast empire of Ara. But when the
Midnight invaded reality, all the earth was changed. By the time the stars had been returned to their rightful places, Ara had been turned from a verdant land into a barren desert, and its great, floating cities had been brought low. Even now, the ruins of the Wastes echo with the voices of the slain, mourning their once-great nation, and the sands lament what could have been.
Glory's Remembrance
We have been in this place for five days and seen not one other living soul. The Highcliffs loom in the distance. The Wastes are dead in daylight; only after dusk do they blossom. If the Ahlak River's course does not match our maps, we will not survive... It is difficult to imagine that this desert was ever a paradise.
- journal of Andira, scholar of Liyru
The Araen Wastes occupy the heart of the southern continent, stretching from north to south coast. To its east are ikayal lands, including the
City of Liyru; to the west is the human nation of
Axu. Its physical landscape ranges from wild, windswept stone cliffs to burning plains of sand - not to mention the various magical phenomena within. What water sources there are shift with the seasons. Journeys across the Wastes are almost never taken without desperate need; it is unheard-of to traverse it in groups of under ten.
"History, culture, thousands upon thousands lost to time and the world's eternal mirror. And for what - this dream of fools?"
In the age before the
Lirustime, when mortals first turned their eyes to study the fearless stars, the Araen Wastes were verdant and bountiful. Untamed woods sprawled from north to south, filled with plants that have long since withered. As ikayal ventured further into the verdure, they chose sections to tame and cultivate - these places would later become Ara's famed Gardens, where mortal order and natural chaos were in perfect alignment. It was said that the Gardens held secrets that could cure all evil, and that the plants within were only the beginning of its wonders.
The
floating cities of Ara were suspended by some of the greatest magic of the time. It would not seem impressive to any decently skilled mage of today, but it served its purpose: to keep the cities away from the deadly desert floor. In those times, the great creatures whose bones now litter the desert were a constant menace. Devouring sandwyrms, breath-stealing orethai and other titans haunted the sands in numbers - cities as big as those of Ara would have attracted too much attention. And so they forsook the earth, and their prosperity grew.
But like its contemporaries, Ara's downfall may as well have been written in the stars - or, more accurately, the darkness between them. When
the Midnight first invaded reality on the northern edge of the continent, it disrupted both the
flow of magic and the local environment - plants withered, and the soil became thin and barren, as
the world's lifeblood deserted it. The great cities were able to survive for a few years upon their own magical reserves... and then a second disaster brought them all crashing to the ground, in the span of a single day.
Glory's Remnants
No outlander would dare tread upon the mourning sands with impunity. Only the wandering peoples and the descendants of those titanic beasts have realised that even the tears shed for those long-gone times are still waters that nourish the sands.
In the millennia since Ara fell, the Wastes have both transformed and remained the same. No trace remains of the lush verdure that the land was known for. Perhaps the land still mourns the dark incursion that rendered it barren, for on clear nights, travellers sometimes hear a wind like a voice in the wilderness - deep and solemn on the eastern cliffs, soft and sad over the endless sea of sand. If it is not a eulogy for all that withered so long ago, it is a caution against the festering wound within it. This place is no longer a home for mortals.
And yet the Wastes are still a wonder to witness, for all their danger.
The Light-Capturing Sands
Even in the mingled moonlight and moonshadow, the sand beneath our feet gleamed with every hue, as if lit by a sun within the earth. If the swirling arcs of crimson and bronze and burnished gold sand formed a pattern, it was too large to see from the ground - but I still remember feeling that the desert, with no rain for flowers, had scattered itself with its own, shimmering blossoms.
- journal of Andira, scholar of Liyru
It is foolish to assume that, when travellers speak of the 'sea of sand', they merely mean featureless beige dunes rolling out to the horizon. Some areas of the desert have had the colours of long-forgotten places 'imprinted' upon them, bleeding into the sands and lying dormant. They capture the daylight's remembrance, glowing with the patterns that were once laid upon them. Thanks to their light, they are useful landmarks after dusk - like fixed nodes upon the ever-shifting routes through the desert.
Nox's Spears
Sixteen days since the outpost, and I sense a great work of
wyr somewhere on this plateau. Although there is nothing in sight to cause it, I feel the magic of this place drawn out of its course - put into use for some inscrutable purpose. So many things about this place have been lost to history... is this simply the order of all things? - journal of Andira, scholar of Liyru
These gigantic rock formations may be older than even the verdant Gardens of Ara. Rumoured to be stars that fell to defend
the Silent Duskfall Wolf, these pillars are really frozen impact points - stone crystallised and ruptured by heavenly forces. They tower up to the clouds, and though the rock is solid, the cores within still burn with Midnight-sealing 'authority'. In ages long gone, those whose wills transcended simple desire would travel here, hoping to pass through the barrier and catch a glimpse of the Great Wolf; but the Spears have long been lost, like so much of the Wastes.
Ley Lines Scattered
We have finally reached our destination: the remnants of an ancient Lifewell, and the town it once sustained. The flow of wyr is so strange in the desert: only half a day's march away from here, the air is bereft of any real life; yet here even the dead trunk of the Lifewell still pulsates with magic. It is little wonder that I must constantly dampen my power, for fear of sparking something I cannot control.
- journal of Andira, scholar of Liyru
Like strings tossed from a loom, the currents of magic in the Wastes have become tangled and unpredictable. In some places, there is almost no ambient wyr at all, leaving the world somehow dull and lifeless. But these regions of 'low tide' are matched by equally extreme
wyrstorms, which seem to almost draw all the magic of the Wastes into a single area. Whether drought or flood, mages traversing the deserts must keep a close watch on themselves and their environment - when close to a wyrstorm, even the smallest spark of magic may lead to catastrophe. And, to further complicate matters, the desert's abundance of
okai makes it impossible to know where these regions might move, or spontaneously arise.
Sit down, my friend, and let me tell you of Aran'sha . A world where the sands shift and the stars sing, where the wind carries secrets and the twin moons keep silent vigil over it all.