The Era of Fate

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Tales speak of a time when they may once have roamed the plains freely, a time before the Valley had cracked its way across the plains and the land was morphed into something new; but those stories had faded with time until truth had become the brethren of uncertainty and dragons had drifted from the sky.

During the Era of Iron whispers passed from lip to ear of a place at peaks of the Southern ranges where dragons still lived, but few dared make the perilous journey to sight them after the eager failed to return home. The story was that nearly three thousand years ago, during the Era of Terror, the ancient chaos had flared, ending the reign of the giants and nearly decimating the dragons. Legend says that near the end of the flare the giants Vicarion and Uumarth had locked blades but were so equally matched that the battle had raged for days. The land beneath their feet had vibrated under their fury until they each struck a killing blow, ending the Giants altogether. When they fell the plains had cracked asunder and mountains grew to claim their flesh, creating what we now call the Valley.

The whispers claimed that the dragons had been stripped to a lingering few by the time the chaos was expended and that they had sought shelter in the clouds to slumber and restore. According to that legend the Soul Syphon Elementals had been the only faction trusted with safeguarding their nests, choosing to exile themselves and sealing their homes to outsiders. They had remained isolated from that time with the Ignis, Gelu, and Terra tribes that made up the Elemental faction joining forces to protect, and hide, the ancient beasts. They had cloaked the mountains they guarded from base to peak behind storms of fire, ice, and earth and fell silent to the pleas of the desperate, but through the Iron Era many held tight to the hope that the whispers of why those storms raged were true.

As you travel north of those mountains the frost melts into the forest, the forest thins into the hills and the hills grow again into mountains made of shale. It is there that the crack between the mountainsides falls away into steep cliffs separated by a wide floor of rock and river, continuing to where the mountains meet the sea. In the aftermath the humans had risen to rule over the chaos-weakened Fae, and had claimed the sacred ground of the Valley as their own. For an age, the sharp split of land between the sister mountain ranges was known as the Rift and the humans coveted it as a symbol for their rise to power from under Fae. It had been transformed into a pit of Iron netting and tainted weapons crafted in the vision of cruelty, forming a scar of hatred that had only widened the divide between humans and whoever they saw as ‘other’. This was the time when the weakened Fae who could be held at bay with tainted chains were forced into servitude and all others had been banished to the farthest corners. The High Fae and the underlings had sought safe-havens in their exile to strengthen while at the mercy of the humans in power. Over the decades they were patient in their anger, watching their brethren suffer in the misery of servitude and waiting for the right time to strike. The High Fae were an ancient race, kindred to the soul-touched, and even weak they had hope. They knew that the land would not allow such unbalance to continue unchecked. So they waited, and when the time was right, they struck.

~

The Rift had been a dangerous place before the Conflict of Fates, filled with the opportunistic and aristocratic, it was rarely safe for anyone. Comprised of half-slum half-fortress it was a bleak and chaotic environment redeemed only by the bountiful harvest caves that lined its perimeter, filled with all manner of vegetation endemic to the area. However, once the war had begun, it was hell, especially to anyone even remotely soul-touched. The enslaved were murdered by humans they had once believed to be kind, and the merciful masters caught smuggling valued members of staff to the Rift gates had been cut down beside them. The caves had been stripped bare of any Soul enhancing herbs so they wouldn’t fall into the hands of the fae and the Rift gates had been sealed.

It remained an inaccessible fortress for years as the war waged outside, standing as the final bastion against the Fae with the throne of the last human king at its core and a gate of tainted iron at its entrance. It prevailed as the lifeblood of the human resistance with many seeking refuge, though once the gates had been sealed gaining access was near impossible, human or not. The cities closest to the Rift had become war camps and the patience of the Fae mixed with the stubborn nature of the humans held the war at a stalemate for an age. That was until the final alliance was struck between the High Fae and the Soul Syphon Elementals, when legend revealed itself as truth and the Dragon Legion joined the war; not long after the Valley was liberated.

That was over a century ago. Since then the iron of the Valley had been re-smelted, the taint had been drained and the caves had been restored. Now the Valley was a thriving nook for nesters, guardians and prospective dragon bonded; and hopefully it would also become my home.

~

We followed the water upstream through the mountains, weaving around the smaller shrubs that persisted in growing through the river stones; the same stones that were making this last part of our journey particularly tiring as they continuously shifted beneath our feet. To save injuring the horses they had been hitched at the stable town of Beasts Keep where the last fork in the road joins together to form the Path of Fate, the only way into the Valley. Our group had been travelling for weeks now and we had grown accustomed to the gruelling pace set by our guide but as the days progressed we had become more and more acquainted with various blisters and sores. The majority of us endured the pain without complaint, well aware of the opportunity this journey presented us with and unwilling to risk our chance over minor irritations.

There was a tangible shift in mood as we rounded another bend and the stones gave way to cobble that gently arched over the entirety of the river and continued into the distance of what was unmistakably the entrance to the Valley. The land rose steeply on either side as we pushed on, rising to the peaks of the guardian mountains far above us until they were lost in the clouds.

My neck began to stiffen from staring upwards, hopeful to chance a glimpse of one of those magical beasts we had all travelled so far for, my eyes darting to every tiny movement they detected. After far too long I gave up, focussing instead on my feet taking step after step over the worn path, rubbing the ache from my tired muscles and ignoring the chatter from those in our group with inexhaustible excitement. After a while I moved from staring at my feet to scanning our surroundings, squinting to make out the details of anything we passed.

The slate grey mountains on either side of us cast the road entirely in shadow making it difficult to see farther than a short distance away. We had been told that a perpetual twilight would persist throughout the day here, save for a few brief hours when the sun was at its zenith but it was strange to experience. My mind was convinced that it was nearing dusk despite having left Beasts keep just before noon and only having walked for at most four hours since. My thoughts were interrupted by an exclamation from our guide calling to us that we had arrived.

The entrance was far larger than I could have anticipated, ten horses could ride through abreast without issue and I had to crane my already strained neck to see where the battlement arched far above. The iron gates stood flush against the cliffs on either side and I was shocked at how beautiful they were, carved with intricate designs that made the metal seem fluid in a way. I think after all the stories I had expected anything crafted by human hands to be garish or hideous, and though imposing they were breath-taking. The fatigue of my fellow travellers seemed to melt away at the sight of them and the thoroughfare beyond as they began to point at anything in sight with wide grins splitting their faces. I took a deep breath to try and calm myself as I continued after them, my mind shouting almost as loudly as they were but with an altogether different urgency. Though I too shared the thrill of possibility that came with our venture to the Valley, it was mixing awkwardly with my weariness and my nerves. The others may have the luxury to focus only on the potential this path of fate may lead them to but I was incapable of forgetting what it meant were we to fail the trials in the coming weeks, because where failure to them meant a long journey back home, it meant something far worse to me.

But that is the curse of being born human in a world ruled by the Fae.