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A Song of The Nothing & The Everything


~A War of the Realms Short Story~

In The Beginning

Out of the Nothing came Sebastiel, and in the Everything that was to be, Sebastiel created. In the Everything that was created, Sebastiel named it Eskador. Countless eons after Sebastiel created Eskador, he at long last wanted to share his creation with someone. Out of the Everything, he made two sons and a daughter. He named his first son Gorbenmire and his second son Persentius. He named his one and only daughter Acolthera. For time untold, Sebastiel and his children enjoyed his blessed and wondrous creation of Eskador.

Then, one day, a day that would change the Everything forever and would be known as the Báembrel (The Great Undoing), Sebastiel was lounged atop Mount Gildaeron, listening to Acolthera play her silver harp, when Persentius sought an audience with his father.

“We have lived as four on Eskador for such a long time, father,” Persentius said. “I would ask for you to create more of us out of the Everything.”

Shocked at her brother’s words, Acolthera immediately stopped playing her silver harp. She looked intently at her father for his reaction. 

“I have noticed for some time that you’ve been looking quite glum.” Sebastiel sat up right and placed his hands on his knees. He looked Persentius straight in the eye. “I won’t create any more children from the Everything.”

“Father, please—”

Sebastiel held up his hand to silence his son. Persentius fell silent instantly. “Whilst I won’t create any more children from the Everything, I am prepared to create them from Eskador itself.”

Acolthera lay down her harp eagerly. “You mean this, father?”

“I do.” Sebastiel got to his feet. “Where’s Gorbenmire?”

“He’s sculpting a new forest down by the Iorin River,” Persentius informed his father.

“Then I shall summon him from his work,” Sebastiel proclaimed. “He too can help us create fantastical beings from the ground of our beloved Eskador!”

The Lord of Everything Must Depart

And so, it was done. From the blood of the Aed (earth), from the soil of Mount Gildaeron, and from the waters of the Iorin River, Sebastiel and his children crafted their fantastical beings. They created eight tribes of Urinya. They created four tribes of Elvuri, who they blessed with long white hair, angelic complexions and light blue eyes. The third race to be crafted were considerably taller and broader than the race of Urinya and yet considerably less attractive than that of the Elvuri; this race, they named the Gianura. Sebastiel and his children lived among the races of Urinya, Elvuri and Gianura in peace and harmony for thousands of years. 

“There is somewhere I need to go.” Sebastiel had summoned his children atop Mount Gildaeron. “My attention has been pricked.”

“By what, father?” Gorbenmire asked, concerned.

“I can’t say for sure, my son.”

“And where will you be going?” Persentius enquired. He was the most inquisitive of Sebastiel’s children. “Into the Nothing, I presume.”

“You speak true,” Sebastiel confirmed.

“Let me come with you—”

“Your place is here in Eskador,” Sebastiel said, “among our creations.”

“But, father—”

It was Acolthera who spoke next. “Father is right, Persentius. Our place is here.”

“Very well,” glowered Persentius.

It was Gorbenmire who asked their father how long he intended to be away from the Everything. From Eskador. 

“I can’t say for sure.” Sebastiel’s face gave nothing away. “I know I’m leaving my creation in good hands. But let make this clear. You must not share any of your anuri with the races we’ve created. They are blessed and happy as they are. Anuri isn’t meant for those who are not made of the Nothing or the Everything. Do I make myself understood?”

“Yes, father,” Gorbenmire and Acolthera said as one. “Your wish is sacrosanct.”

“Persentius?” Sebastiel asked his second son. “Do you understand?”

“I’m aggrieved you had to ask such a question.” Persentius turned on his heel and walked away. “Have a safe journey to the Nothing…father!”

“Persentius!” Sebastiel called out. “It needed to be said!”

“Leave him be,” Gorbenmire said. “You know how he can be sometimes.”

“Go.” Acolthera kissed her father on the cheek. “Do what you must. We’ll look after Eskador and Persentius in your absence.”

“I hope to return as soon as I can.” Sebastiel embraced each of his remaining children, kissed each on their forehead, and disappeared into the Nothing.

How Things Have Changed

For seven hundred years, Sebastiel was away from the Everything and Eskador. When he returned, he found the races he and his children created no longer lived in peace and harmony. They now waged war against one another. The Urinya and the Gianura had sacked, pillaged and raped the landscape Sebastiel had created. Only the Elvuri had fought to protect it. Furious at what he saw, Sebastiel went to Mount Gildaeron and summoned his children. Only Gorbenmire came to meet his father. He wore golden armour made for him by the Elvuri. Sebastiel was disturbed to find his son bloodied and bruised. “My son,” Sebastiel said, “what has happened to my beloved Eskador in my absence?”

Gorbenmire fell to his knees and sobbed. Blood dripped from his chin on to the chest plate of magnificent elven forged armour. “I failed you, father. I…we tried to stop him. But…we weren’t strong enough. He’s become so powerful in your absence.”

Sebastiel crouched down to his first son. He used his thumb to wipe away a bloodied tear from Gorbenmire’s eye. “I fear my daughter, Acolthera, is dead. Are my feelings true?”

Gorbenmire gave a solemn nod of the head. “They are true.”

“Did she die by Persentius’s hand?”

“No, father.” Gorbenmire paused. “The Gianura took her life. My brother has bestowed upon their race great strength. Even though my sister was made of the Everything, they pulled her apart as if she was made of nothing but straw, father! Straw!” 

Sebastiel took a moment to mourn his one and only daughter. “It seems Persentius has gone against my wishes.” Sebastiel kissed Gorbenmire softly on the forehead and stood.

Gorbenmire looked up at his father. Pain and disappointment reigned in his gaze. “That is not all, father.”

“Speak of what Persentius has truly done in my absence.” Sebastiel turned away from Gorbenmire and surveyed the madness below him. The war raged on. “What did he bestow upon the Elvuri?”

“Wisdom, knowledge, and…the dominion over ageing.”

“I see.” Sebastiel was saddened by this news. “And what of the Urinya?”

“That is the cruelest of all,” Gorbenmire said with a heavy heart. “Persentius has bestowed upon the tribe of the Myos the true power of anuri. They can almost wield it like you or I.”

Sebastiel lowered his head in disappointment. “I presume the seven other tribes of the Urinya who are not cursed with anuri seek to have it?”

“You speak the truth, father.”

“Our creations fight amongst themselves for what reason, though?” Sebastiel asked. “Power and supremacy over one another?”

Gorbenmire rose to his feet. “Persentius has poisoned the Urinya and Gianura’s hearts and minds with lies.”

“And what of the Elvuri? You fight beside them, I see.”

“They are wise and knowledgable,” Gorbenmire said. “Just as we created them to be. They know the truth.”

Sebastiel felt this to be true. “I apologise for being away too long. It seems the Nothing has fooled me.”

“Why would It do that?” 

“I fear Persentius may have a hand in such matters.” Sebastiel had seen enough of the wars raging beneath him. “Is it time I put an end to this madness myself.”

“Father, there is something else I must tell you.” Gorbenmire had a look of dreaded fear formed upon his face. “Regarding the death of Acolthera.”

“Speak your mind.” 

“After the Gianura had finished tearing Acolthera apart,” Gorbenmire looked his father with concerned eyes, “Persentius took it from her.”

“Took what?”

“Her anuri.” Gorbenmire was still shocked by what he saw Persentius do. “My brother consumed into his being. It made him even stronger than he was before.”

Sebastiel raged. First at Persentius and the pain and anguish he had caused. He then raged and cursed himself for being away from Eskador for far too long. “Where is my second son now?”

“He lives among a section of the Urinya who are devout to him,” Gorbenmire said. “They call themselves the Persei.”

“Go back to the Elvuri, my son,” instructed Sebastiel. “I bestow upon you this...” Out of the Everything, Sebastiel made Gorbenmire a sword so elegant and beautiful it complimented his Elvuri armour. “I shall name it Ishriel.”

“And I shall wield Ishriel with pride,” Gorbenmire promised his father. “Will you not join me in battle, father?” 

“I must confront the Nothing. It needs to answer for what is going on here just as much as Persentius does.”

“You’ve just returned from there after so long.”

“And I feel they’ve deceived my ears with wicked lies. Now, go. I shall join you soon.”

The Fall of Gorbenmire

Gorbenmire left Mount Gildaeron with a rallying war cry. The blade of Ishriel erupted into a flame of gold and green. Gorbenmire soon gloriously joined the armies of the Elvuri in battle. They valiantly battled and defeated nearly all the Gianura. They were successful in defeating seven tribes of the Urinya. After hearts gladdened by victories, they came up against the army of Urinya, who were devoted to Persentius, the Persei.

The Persei that Gorbenmire and the Elvuri faced had been blessed strongly with his anuri. Even though Gorbenmire had been made of the Everything and wielded Ishriel, he still wasn't strong enough to defeat them. Broken, exhausted and with nothing left to give, Gorbenmire and the Elvuri, whom he fought so courageously beside, were defeated. 

The Elvuri, who numbered near ten thousand, were mercilessly slaughtered by the Persei. Each Elvuri was flayed and decapitated. Their headless bodies thrown into the Iorin River, which turned its clear blue waters red. The Persei gathered up the Elvuri’s severed heads and crudely piled them into pyre. Holding Ishriel aloft, a Persei named Rohman used his anuri to create a lightning bolt that set the pyre a light. As the severed heads of the Elvuri burned, Gorbenmire’s hands and feet was cast in golden chains made of the strongest of anuri. Neither Rohman nor a Persei had cast the golden chains. These golden chains had been cast by Persentius himself.

“Brother.” Persentius emerged from ground of Eskador in reams of smoke and ash. “It’s been some time since we last spoke.”  He was now full bodied and adorned in black and red armour. Persentius knelt and affectionately stroked his brother’s bloodied features. “I miss our conversations, Gorbenmire.”

“Father has returned.” Gorbenmire spat blood on the ground before he glowered with contempt at Persentius. 

“Has he?” Persentius looked around him. “I don’t see him anywhere. Do you?”

“He sent me to end these wars, brother!”

“And how’s that working out for you?” Persentius beckoned Rohman to hand him Gorbenmire’s sword. “She’s very impressive. I presume father made her for you?”

“You are not worthy to hold Ishriel!” Gorbenmire protested. “Neither are your deviants!”

“Ishriel.” Persentius liked the name. “I think it’s you who isn’t worthy, brother.” Persentius felt the balance of Ishriel by wielding her in soft striking circles. “Here, Rohman, my apparent deviant. Do what must be done.” Persentius handed Ishriel over to Rohman. 

“You don’t have the courage to kill me yourself!” Gorbenmire exclaimed.

“I could never take the life of something made from the Everything,” Persentius said. “I’m not a total monster, brother.” Persentius beamed a smile so bright it could have formed stars.

Rohman, with one effortless swing of Ishriel, removed Gorbenmire’s head from his body. Persentius bent down to the ground soaked in the blood of the Gianura, the Urinya, the Elvuri and retrieved his brother’s head. He tore out Gorbenmire’s eyes and cast them high into the Eskadorian skies for the creatures of flight to feast upon. Persentius then placed his hands on Gorbenmire’s chest. He closed his eyes, and moments later, orange glistening dust emerged from Gorbenmire’s body. Just like he’d done to Acolthera, Persentius absorbed every ounce of Gorbenmire’s anuri.

“Take leave with my brother’s sword,” Persentius said to Rohman, “and lay its blade upon the bodies of the fallen Persei. Give them a second life and lead them against our enemy until they are no more.”

“As you command.” Rohman bowed mercifully to Persentius before he departed on Alox, his magnificent black charger.

The Wrath of Sebastiel

The Eskadorian sky darkened. A cacophony of thunder rolled. Persentius’s eyes shone bright as lightning strikes intermittently broke up the dark skies. “It looks like father’s quite angry with me,” Persentius said to himself. “I better not keep his lordship waiting.” Persentius evaporated into smoke and ash. He re-emerged atop Mount Gildaeron, where his father awaited him. Sebastiel was adorned in a simple white hooded cloak.

“You have deceived me, my son,” Sebastiel said. 

Persentius spread out his hands. “I suppose I have, father.”

“Why have you betrayed me?”

“Should you be the only one to wield power from the Nothing?”

“I am made of the Nothing. You are made of the Everything,” Sebastiel said. “You cannot contain the anuri of the Nothing.”

“We’ll have to disagree on that matter.” Persentius winked.

“You murdered my daughter and took her anuri for yourself, I hear.”

“I didn’t kill anyone. The Gianura killed her.”

“But you saw fit to take her anuri. That’s a sacrilegious act which will not go unpunished.” Sebastiel lowered his hood. His eyes burned like a hundred suns. “Such an act will end in your destruction by my hand.”

“I’ve learned many lessons from the Nothing, father.” Persentius said. “Did the Nothing not tell you this when you returned to It, seeking answers after Gorbenmire informed you of my antics?”

“It confessed of all Its misgivings. Not until the very end, though.”

Persentius eyed his father wearily. “You killed the Nothing?”

“You think you know anything of the Nothing and the Everything—even the true power of anuri.” Sebastiel’s eyes continued to blaze bright. “You know nothing about anything, my boy.”

“If you say so,” Persentius sighed. “But I don’t just have my sister’s anuri cursing though my being. I now have my brothers as well.”

Sebastiel said nothing.

“Why not stop Gorbenmire from dying?” Persentius was cold in his questioning.

Sebastiel remained silent.

“Have you lost the ability to speak, Mighty Father? Lord of the Anuri.” 

“No, I haven’t. But I have come to realise it is time for all my children’s essences to return to the Everything.”

“I see.” Persentius thought for a moment. “So, the sword, Ishriel, that you made for Gorbenmire, was that just a ploy or an intentional gift to destroy me?”


“I do sometimes tire of your riddles,” Persentius said. “Unfortunate thing is, I’ve bestowed Ishriel upon the very Urinyian who took my brother’s life. He calls himself Rohman.”

“Ishriel wasn’t made for the Urinya or any another creation we made!” Sebastiel exclaimed. “When I am done here, I shall take Ishriel back.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, father,” Persentius added. “What I do know is that my devout Urinya followers that have mortally fallen in battle are to rise once more and fight.” Persentius felt elated as a look of sorrow spread across his father’s face. 

“You truly have gone mad,” Sebastiel said. “What is dead must remain dead. That it is the way of—”

“On whose say so? Who made these silly little rules? The Nothing? You? Pah!” Persentius raged. “I will break your rules and cast them into the vastness of the Nothing.”

Sebastiel thought back to the very day Persentius came to ask him to make more siblings out of the Everything. Would everything had been different if he had done as Persentius asked? Would his first son and only daughter still breath? He knew that paradox would drive him to madness. “Even though we have arrived at this path, I do love you, Persentius.”

“Spare me your sanctimonious love, father.”

The Fall of Persentius

Sebastiel and Persentius fought one another. Such wielding of the anuri had never been witnessed and would never be witnessed again until many eons later. Father and second son battled atop Mount Gildaeron. They then battled by the banks of the Iorin River. They battled amongst the settlements of the Gianura. They battled amongst the citadels and palaces of the Elvuri. The duelled amongst the hamlets, towns and cities of the Urinya. The destruction of Eskador was incalculable and devastating. The creations of Eskador looked on in fear and awe as Sebastiel and Persentius tried to extinguish each other’s existence. Then came an unexpected break in the war proceedings.

 “I have been misled,” Persentius panted, bloodied and broken, “haven’t I, father?”

“Speak your mind.” Sebastiel didn’t have a single scratch or a droplet of sweat on him. 

“You’re not even trying to wield the full potential of your anuri, are you?”

“You speak the truth, my son.”

“Fight me!” Persentius demanded. “Fight me with everything you have!”

“So you can kill me and consume my anuri?” Sebastiel shook his head. “I think not. You would destroy the Nothing. The Everything. Eskador. Such anuri can’t be controlled by one being.”

“You’re lying,” Persentius scolded his father. “You just want the power for yourself! You want dominion over it all!”

“Then why did I create you? And Gorbenmire? And my only daughter, Acolthera? Answer me that?” 

Persentius eyed his father suspiciously and said nothing. 

“Because I wanted to share it with someone. That’s why, Persentius.”

“Lies and more lies! It ends now! You hear me, father!” 

Sebastiel agreed it was time to end things. Persentius raged towards him. Sebastiel stood his ground. A single golden tear rolled down his cheek. He gracefully held up his hand and commanded Persentius to cease to be. In that brutal and instant moment, Persentius dropped down dead at the feet of his father. Sebastiel’s golden tear fell to the ground, and soon a meadow of yellow flowers grew around Persentius’s body.

Rohman of the Persei

Sebastiel picked up Persentius and buried him in a secluded grove in a valley in a part of Eskador only he would ever know. He contemplated taking all the anuri in Persentius’s being and dispelling them back into the Everything. Yet he decided not to. A decision he hoped would not come back to haunt him.

Sebastiel recovered the bodies of Acolthera and Gorbenmire and lay them to rest in the Great Forest of Eskador. There, over time, a tree would grow that would be known as the Tree of Anuri. It was from this tree that future generations of Urinya would use its branches to make a welnd. It was this object that would enable them to wield the anuri that Persentius had blessed them with.

 Sebastiel knew it was now time to deal with Persentius’s loyal followers, the Persei, and the Urinyian who led them. Sebastiel discovered the hordes of the living and dead Persei on the Plains of Hymeonèr. They were amid a madding and ferocious battle with fellow Myos who had been blessed with anuri but hadn’t worshipped Persentius. Amongst the Myos’s ranks were scores from other tribes of Urinya, Elvuri and Gianura, who were still severely loyal to Sebastiel.

“Enough!” Sebastiel roared. “Enough of this madness!” The ground rumbled and the skies darkened with his rage once more. A roll of deafening thunder shattered the air. Shards of lightning pierced the dark skies. “I said enough!” Yet the Persei ignored Sebastiel and continued to mow down Urinya, Elvuri and Gianura.

The hordes of Persei parted slightly as Rohman rode out on Alox. The leader of the Persei came to meet Sebastiel. In one hand, he held Alox’s reigns. In the other hand, he held Ishriel. “That sword doesn’t belong to you,” Sebastiel warned Rohman. 

“It was gifted to me,” Rohman responded full of spite. “It is mine. I shall do with it as I please.”

Sebastiel glanced across at the hordes of undead Persei. The Eskadorian sky darkened further to match Sebastiel’s anger. The thunder and lightning intensified. “Persentius is dead,” Sebastiel said. 

“I felt it,” Rohman said. “We all did.”

“My second son meddled in things he did not understand.” Sebastiel glanced once again at the dead Persei as they battled hard against Urinya, Elvuri and the Gianura. “There was order to the Nothing and the Everything. Creations live. Creations die. What has died must not live again.”

“Will you die?” Rohman asked the lord of anuri. “Or are you an exception to the rule?”

“I shall die one day too.”

“But not for a very long time?”

“I know not the answer,” Sebastiel said. “We are getting away from the situation at hand. Those Persei you brought back from the dead are an abomination. You and they will be dealt with.”

“Never!” Rohman hollered as he kicked Alox into action. He held Ishriel aloft and charged towards Sebastiel. Sebastiel stood firm and calm. His eyes, now glistening gold, never left Ishriel’s blade. Rohman bellowed a war cry so intense it could have levelled Mount Gildaeron. He swung Ishriel with all his Urinyian strength to rid Sebastiel’s shoulders of his head. He also summoned all his anuri to assist him defeat the lord of anuri.

The Creation of Nèamendorm

Ishriel’s blade shattered into pieces as it touched Sebastiel’s neck. Alox reared on his back legs as if he’d suddenly come to his senses. He cast Rohman violently to the ground. 

Sebastiel towered over Rohman, his eyes gold and glistening. “Persentius led you and your people down a path I should have foreseen. I have failed you and your kind as your creator. I am deeply sorry for that.”

“Save your apologies,” Rohman spat. “Just get my punishment over with. Kill me and my people!”

Sebastiel held his hand aloft before gradually bringing it down. Eskador seized to move. The warring stopped. The creatures of the sky stopped flying. The creatures of the land stopped grazing. Eskador was still. 

“Your punishment will not be death,” Sebastiel said. “I will not take the lives of your fellow Persei. I shall spare the dead Persei too.”

“I do not understand what our punishment is,” Rohman said, “if not death.”

“To live amongst you. The living and the dead until the Everything becomes at one with the Nothing again.”

“How long will that be?”

“As long as it takes. I do not know the answer.”

Rohman was briefly lost for words. “Please, kill me. Kill us all. To live as long as you say is—”

“Your punishment,” Sebastiel said. “My word is final.”

“Where are we to live?” Rohman pleaded. “Here amongst our fellow Urinya who didn’t defy you? Amongst the Elvuri or the Gianura?”

“You and your fellow Persei are abominations. You will live elsewhere. You will be a lasting deterrent not to meddle in the Nothing, the Everything or the anuri ever again.”

“Will it be here in Eskador?” 

“It will.” Sebastiel held both hands aloft once more. His eyes turned golden and glistening. “I command you, Rohman, to be lord ruler of your people for as long as it may be…”

In that moment, Sebastiel created Nèamendorm, a realm of perpetual darkness and misery. He banished Rohman and his hordes of the living and dead Persei there for eternity. To keep Rohan and the Persei out of Eskador and to deter others from venturing there, Sebastiel carved the treacherous volcanic mountain range of Vèngaldor, where he planted the Forest of Kalghoul, which would be inhabited by creatures made of dark anuri.

The Quest to Mount Gildaeron

With his work completed in Nèamendorm, Sebastiel turned his attention to the Urinya, Elvuri and Gianura. He summoned the kings of the eight tribes of Urinya, the four tribes of Elvuri and the chieftain of the Gianura to meet him atop Mount Gildaeron. It took three days of travelling for them to reach the summit. After an arduous and much maligned journey, they found no sign of their Creator.

“What will Sebastiel do to us when he arrives?” Tíeron, King of the Borgateans, asked his fellow Urinyian kings. “Consign us all back to the Everything? Back to the Nothing?”

“No doubt he will punish us for not standing up to Rohman and the Persei sooner,” Ciceris, King of the Heikorion added. “We should have done more to prevent this catastrophe.”

“Yes, you should have,” the Elvurian king, Vaerill of the Daens chimed in. “Me and my brethren warned you and your kings enough times about Persentius’s scheming ways. But you turned your ears away and kept your eyes closed.”

“Moaning do no good now,” Maganar, the chieftain of the Gianura said. “Live. Die. Who cares? Not Gianura. Not Sebastiel.”

“You, Gianura, should fear Sebastiel’s wrath the most,” Iferion, King of the Elgarians, warned Maganar. “You murdered his one and only daughter.”

“Maganar’s Gianura not kill Acolthera,” Maganar growled. “Evil Gianura do bidding of Persentius.”

“It matters not what any of us think!” Benn Ghar, King of the Nardorthesi, raged. “Sebastiel will serve us his judgment. I’d keep your tongues rested for when our Creator arrives. You can then plead for your lives and those of your tribes.”

And so, they fell silent. They waited. And waited. The day ended. The sun became the moon. The Eskadorian night sky was dark and littered with stars. And still the kings and the chieftain waited for Sebastiel to arrive.


There was a sound of cracking in the night sky. The cracking gradually got louder and louder, and the ground of Mount Gildaeron shook beneath the kings’ and chieftain’s feet. The cracking in the night sky reached its crescendo, along with the earthquake on Mount Gildaeron. It all seized immediately, as quickly as it started. The night sky tore open and a golden light spilled out, showering the kings and the chieftain in a warm glow.

Out of the golden light emerged Sebastiel, and behind him, his creations saw the most wonderful and magnificent of sights. A citadel made of gold. It was a sight to behold with its thousands of turrets, towers and spires. Encompassing the golden citadel was a forest of the greenest of trees and a meadow of flowers of immense colour. It was such an awe-inspiring sight that Sebastiel’s creations were nearly drawn to tears. 

All the kings and the chieftain knelt and bowed their heads as Sebastiel came and stood among them on Mount Gildaeron. He held up an open hand to the golden citadel in the night sky. He closed his hand and the golden citadel, the forest and the meadow disappeared along with the tear in the night sky. 

Sebastiel looked up at the moon, and with one swipe of his hand, it was replaced with the sun. All of his creations remained kneeling before him and were basked in the morning sun.

 “I’ve had time to think about what has gone on in my absence,” Sebastiel said. “I have weighed up the actions of Persentius and that of you, my creations. I’ve toyed with ending the lives of all my creations, not just you. I’ve contemplated and argued with myself about taking Eskador and the Everything back into the Nothing.” 

The kings and the chieftain remained knelt, silent with heads bowed. 

“After such thoughts, I have decided not to consign any of mine or my children’s creations to the Everything and the Nothing. That would serve no purpose. I would like to honour my children’s memories. Yes, even that of my second son, who has caused so much pain, grief and bloodshed in my absence. The reason for my delay in meeting you is because I’ve decided to add more of the Urinya to the Everything. Not the Elvuri or Gianura. You are so unique and precious you deserve to remain so.

“To the west of Eskador, I’ve taken it upon myself to sculpt a new land. This land is to be known as Simradil. The Urinya there have been kissed by a hundred suns. They look and speak differently to that of the Urinya here in Eskador, and when the time is right and true, you shall meet your cousins from Simradil. 

“To the east of Eskador, I’ve have sculpted a land known as Galafen. The Urinya there have been touched by a thousand suns, and just like that of the Simradilians, they speak differently to you. And, just like your cousins in the west, you too shall meet when the time is right and true.”

Most of the kings and the chieftain of Eskador remained silent as they took in Sebastiel’s news; all but Sigearon, King of the Ipedians, who had something weighing on his mind. “The golden citadel in the sky, My Lord Sebastiel. Is that another of your creations?”

“You speak true, Sigearon, King of the Ipedians,” Sebastiel said. “The place you all saw, I have named Avondrál.”

“Are we to meet the people of Avondrál when the time is right and true?” the King of the Ipedians asked.

“Not all, no,” Sebastiel explained. “When your time, upon these Eskadorian plains cease to be, you shall be judged. If your found to be right and just, you shall enter the golden walls of Avondrál until the Everything becomes the Nothing once more.”

“And if we are not judged right and true?” the King of the Ipedians enquired.

“Your being will become part of the soil of Mount Gildaeron, the waters of Iorin River and the blood of the Aed. Just as you were made from.” Sigearon nodded he understood what his Creator had said. “The time, my children of Eskador, has come for the Èdeniel—”

“Must you disperse us across the Eskadorian plains, My Lord Sebastiel,” asked Iferion, King of the Elgarians. “I feel we have learned our lessons.”

“Maybe you have,” Sebastiel said. “But what has passed has passed and the consequences must be dealt with. These consequences will reverberate throughout Eskador for time untold.”

“Very well, My Lord Sebastiel.” Iferion, King of the Elgarians, acknowledged with a tip of the head.

“I shall start the Èdeniel with the tribes of the Urinya. You, Iferion, Son of Torleise, King of the Elgarians,” Sebastiel said. “You shall start a new existence with your people in the realm of Xaire.” Iferion didn’t argue. He nodded he accordingly. Sebastiel continued with his Èdeniel. “Ciceris, Son of Ildontus, King of the Heikorion. The realm of you and your tribe is Issium.”

“Your wish is sacred and true, My Lord Sebastiel,” Ciceris said.

“Tíeron, Son of Lenadeas, King of the Borgateans. The realm of you and your tribes will be that of Cauthay.” Tíeron nodded his understood. “Sigearon, Son of Odeil, King of the Ipedians. You and your people shall make the realm of Hálbion your home.”

“As you wish, My Lord Sebastiel,” Sigearon said. “Me and my people thank you for your generosity.”

Sebastiel continued, “Haebril, Son of Roebral, King of the Calbri. The realm of Caldia shall be the home of you and your people.”

“And we are grateful of your gift, My Lord Sebastiel,” Haebril said.

“Benn Ghar, Son of Vehk Ghar, King of the Valkalis. The realm of Dorgoth will be what you and your people call home.” Benn Ghar grunted his thanks and appreciation. “Kal Keid, Son of Tahl Keid, King of the Nardorthesi. You and your people will call the realm of Vadrinarl home—”

“What if we refuse to call this new realm home? What if my people won’t be a part of this great separation of yours?” Kal Keid asked his Creator.

“Then all your people will be consigned to Nèamendorm,” Sebastiel said. “Young and old. Is that what you want for your people? Just say the words and I’ll make it happen, Kal Keid, Son of Tahl Keid.”

Kal Keid sighed and begrudgingly accepted Sebastiel’s gift.

Sebastiel turned his attention the four tribes of Elvuri. All took their Èdeniel as one. “Vaerill, Son of Elverion, King of the Daens. You and your fellow Elvuri will make the Northern Dells of the realm of Galahan your home. Déowen, daughter of Thuryn, Queen of the Ainaar, you and your Elvuri will make the Eastern Dells of Galahan your home. 

“Fermír, Son of Emyion, King of the Eiads, you and your Elvuri will make the Western Dells of Galahan your home. And finally, Ronildor, Son of Taneril, King of the Ayén. You and your Elvuri will make the Southern Dells of Galahan your home.” Sebastiel lay the final Èdeniel at the chieftain of the Gianura. “Maganar, Son of Krarog, you and your fellow Gianura will make the realm of your Ivantal your new home.”

“Maganar grateful for Creator not taking us to the Nothing for killing only daughter,” Maganar said. “That Gianura was second son’s Gianura.”

“Yes, it was,” Sebastiel said. “I hold no animosity against you and your kind.” Maganar nodded his head in thanks. “I shall now send you all on your journeys to your new realms—”

“My Lord Sebastiel, you’ve forgotten a king of the Urinyians,” Sigearon, the new King of Hálbion said. “Ambryn, King of the Myos.”

“I haven’t forgot about the Myos and King Ambryn,” Sebastiel said. “I will tell them of their Èdeniel alone. It concerns none of you present.” 

“Apologies,” Sigearon said. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No offence was taken. Now, begin your journeys to your new realms” 

The Fate of the Myos

And with that, Sebastiel made it so. Now only he and Ambryn, King of the Myos, remained on top of Mount Gildaeron. “Ambryn, Son of Palgaren, King of the Myos.”

“My Lord Sebastiel,” Ambryn said, “which new realm shall my people and I call home?”

“Stand, please.” Ambryn did as he was instructed. His head was still bowed in respect to his Creator. “There’s no need to bow your head anymore. It’s just you and me.” Ambryn raised his head. “You have the power of anuri cursing through your veins?” 

“Yes, My Lord Sebastiel.” 

Sebastiel walked around Ambryn and weighed him up as if he was a prized ox. “Are all of your people blessed with such gifts as yours?”


“Persentius was reckless in what he did,” Sebastiel said. “Anuri was never meant for your kind. It wasn’t made for anyone who’s not made of the Everything and the Nothing.”

Ambryn held out an arm. “Then take it back, My Lord Sebastiel. It has caused my people and my family great pain.”

“I will not take it back.” Sebastiel stopped inspecting Ambryn. “What has passed has passed. That’s how the Nothing and the Everything work. Tell me, Ambryn, King of the Myos. The Urinyian called Rohman, what was he to you?”

“He was…my brother.”

“Yet, you didn’t join my son’s worshippers, the Persei?” Ambryn nodded that was true. “But you didn’t forbid your brother from becoming the Persei’s leader either?”

“My brother stopped listening to my words long ago, My Lord Sebastiel.”

“But you were his king?”

“Persentius was his king,” Ambryn explained. “My ears still ring from my brother’s declaration.” 

Sebastiel acknowledged he understood. “You know your brother and his hordes of the dead Persei now call the dark realm Nèamendorm their home?”

“Am I and the rest of the Myos to remain there also?”

“No, you and your people will not be going to Nèamendorm. You shall remain here, in a realm that will be called Gondovia. Here you will be forever watchful guardians over the dark realm. The people of Eskador will rely on you to keep them safe.”

“Your punishment is right and true, My lord Sebastiel,” Ambryn said. “My people and I will protect Eskador with all our hearts and anuri.”

“This is for you.” From the inside of his cloak, Sebastiel removed the broken sword of Ishriel. “I made this sword for my son Gorbenmire to defeat Rohman and the Persei. I didn’t bless it with enough anuri. That’s something I will regret for eternity. When Rohman killed my son, he took Ishriel and then tried to kill me with her. My own sword.”

“My brother was always rash and foolish, My Lord Sebastiel.”

“So it seems.” Sebastiel’s mood darkened to a serious nature. “Many years from now, you will need Ishriel more than ever. You must entrust Ishriel to the Yéan—”

“Yéan, My Lord?”

“The Child of Nothing. They will be the only one who can wield the sword. With this, they will save Eskador and its people.”

Ambryn took Ishriel. “The blade is broken. Shall it be fixed?”

“No, the Yéan will reforge the blade with their anuri.”

“When will all this happen, My Lord Sebastiel?”

“I don’t have the answers for that,” Sebastiel said. “The Nothing can be quite secretive sometimes. I’ve learned this at great personal cost. Our time here his done, Ambryn, King of Gondovia. I shall be keeping a keen eye on you and your people.”

“We shall do our best to protect Gondovia and those blessed with anuri.”

And with that, Sebastiel cast Ambryn away from Mount Gildaeron as he retired to his tower in the golden citadel of Avondrál.

And so, time moved on. The Aed grew. It evolved. The creations of Eskador evolved in great numbers. They sailed west across the Sorentian Sea to Simradil to encounter their cousins kissed by a hundred suns. They sailed east across the Rhunantic Ocean towards Galafen to encounter their cousins touched by a thousand sons. And, just like the Aed, in time, names evolved too. The Urinya became known as Man. The Elvuri became Elves. The Gianura became Giants. Simradil became Ferencenco. Galafen became Que’Tal. Eskador became known as Tollow. And most importantly, anuri would be known as magic.

Nearly three millennia after Sebastiel cast the Urinyian kings to their new realms, their names too changed. Caldia became Moinderin, Cauthay became Bàlmain, Xaire became Xandoria, Issium became Mandonia, Dorgoth became Vubenrhan, Vadrinarl became Ramonath, Galahan became Jenvia, Ivantal became Harcland, the dark realm of Nèamendorm became Narlendarn, and its eternal guardian, Gondovia, became known as Gondlewitz.

Hálbion would be the last realm to change its name. Unlike the rest of the realms, its name didn’t change because of the passage of time. Hálbion’s name would change to Mulair because it would be conquered. It would be conquered by an Itheecian king from Ferencenco named Gòdeseus Delios.

Copyright © 2023 by Martin Marriott


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Published by Martin Marriott


First edition: June 2023

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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