"There is an emptiness above," whispered the smooth, silken voice of
Twilight. "An emptiness born while I wrestled with the Eye. It saddens
Me, and it saddens Our Brothers and Sisters."

The Smith's eyes misted over, and he nodded. The loss of the Travelling
Stars had been felt by all, though there seemed no solution entirely
within his grasp. "You know that not even I can make something out of
nothing," was the frank reply.

The Dark Father inclined his head and spoke of his recent meditations,
those which had led him to a solution that might suit the desires of
all. A cold and lifeless rock glistened at a distant edge of the
multiverse: a lump of unmoulded clay. Phaestus' face immediately lit up,
but dimmed again as he calculated the vast distance between that place
and this. He spoke of the hardships his children had faced, and of his
unwillingness to be far from their side.

A slow smile crept over the inscrutable features of Lord Twilight. A
plan was swiftly detailed, and though the Smith remained wary, the
proposed commission was accepted. The two gods, so vastly different in
their methods and aims, were agreed. The distant planet would be drawn
close, and something new would be crafted upon its foundation: something
that would honour and be formed from the remnants of what was torn from
the night sky a century and a half before.

Gathering their children in the planetarium of the Northern Ithmia, the
Lords chose a focus for their efforts, and through great exertion,
combined their strength in drawing the celestial body near. While
Phaestus' thoughts immediately flew to his work, Twilight smiled
inwardly as a star fell far to the south, unseen by the Smith.

~ ~ ~

The frozen planet became a familiar sight in the heavens, and all was
quiet as preparations progressed, and the mortal followers of Darkness
and the Smith laboured to collect materials for the fledgling world.
Shards of obsidian and quartz piled up alongside more mundane minerals,
all smelted away as they worked.

Then one cold afternoon in Sarapin, a frightened villager ran into
Cyrene seeking assistance. Salyn, once-trusted protector of Ka'doloki,
had become violent and insensible. Guardians of stone and earth
terrorised the coastal settlement, and their proud leader had been bound
and beaten. Coming to the villager's aid, Koradhil Ranahiir organised a
force of citizens and dragons and rushed to investigate.

Raving and mad with power, the formerly mild-mannered guard was
discovered standing over the prone body of his elder, Nhamdi. Vehemently
Salyn shouted of his birthright and the certainty that he would soon
join the Pantheon of Gods. Demonstrating his self-proclaimed puissance,
he struck down all who opposed him, until finally one defender noticed
an ominous black crystal swinging at his belt.

Again and again the would-be rescuers were rebuffed, the crystal
slipping just out of their grasp. At last it was torn away, and Guhem
Ebonheart-D'ischai found himself in possession of a terrifying artefact.
Speaking of whispers and visions, he darted from the scene and buried
the crystal.

It was then that a quiet woman stepped forth from the crowd: an expert
with crystals, she said, volunteering to help to destroy the stone. The
crystal seemed oddly attracted to the woman, whispering to Guhem that he
should trust her. Being no fool, he did the only wise thing and ran to
bury it once more. The woman pursued with an unnatural ability, and just
as Guhem moved to hide the object, his will was overcome by the crystal
and he surrendered it to her care. As he cried out in frustration, the
woman darted away into the woods, her cowl slipping away to reveal the
sharp features of Sharbrena, the Cleric of Darkness.

~ ~ ~

At last, preparations were complete and the Worldforge was drawn from
its resting place in the Vashnar Mountains, settling deep within the
lifeless rock high above. Ruddy flames consumed the planet from within,
and the rock turned molten. Gradually the land was shaped, the arduous
work directed by the unerring blows of Phaestus' legendary hammer. At
the very peak of his labours, however, the Dark Father intervened.

Producing the black crystal, Twilight moved swiftly, propelling it
toward the glowing new world. Coils of shadow encircled the Smith's
work, obscuring all colour and texture. For a breathless, gut-wrenching
moment Phaestus hesitated, and his mighty hammer missed its mark. When
his rhythm resumed it was fast and fevered, though no hint of what took
place could be glimpsed through the prevailing blackness.

As the fires of the Worldforge abated, Twilight spoke once more,
claiming the right to name the new world and dubbing it Nurazar. All at
once silence reigned, and Phaestus wordlessly returned to the mountains
and to his children, his expression a conflicting mask of pride and
resignation.

Dawn broke, and many breathed a sigh of relief, for though a new planet
dominated the skies, the sun rose to bathe Sapience in the same golden
glow as the day before. Perhaps Twilight's intervention, and the Smith's
trepidation, signified little after all. Perhaps Nurazar would rest in
the firmament as uneventfully as the Celestial Triad once did. But in
the alehouses and parlours of Sapience, many muttered that such
extravagant expenditures of power are never without consequence, and
that even the plans of the Gods often go awry...

Penned by My hand on the 21st of Valnuary, in the year 579 AF.