Deep within the heart of Sapience, a chorus of ormyrr voices rose up in
a cacophonous cry. The ground rumbled beneath their feet, the tremors
felt across the vast continents of the world.

As onlookers turned their eyes to the heavens, a dozen Dala'myrr swam
languidly through the firmament, converging above the Siroccian
Mountains and circling the Shrine of Ascension.

Those who dared ascend the mountain peak, which for days had been
crawling with patrols of the fearsome ormyrr and their Mhaldorian
accomplices, stood back and watched as an untouchable group of ormyrr
priests chanted unintelligibly.

Suddenly, the spectators were thrown from their feet. The mountains
shuddered and groaned, and five colossal Dala'myrr burst forth from the
ground, climbing upward into the sky, where they remained suspended like
five living towers above the Shrine of Ascension, their bodies
undulating in time with the rhythm of the ormyrr priests' chanting.

One rasping voice rose above the rest, shouting, "Hear our pleas,
Bal'met! We make these offerings to You! Ashaxei fell to your servants,
as did Sycaerunax before her. These embers, their essence, we offer to
You!"

A raging column of white flame surged upward from the Shrine of
Ascension, illuminating the night with a ghostly brilliance, and the
circling Dala'myrr cast long shadows that spread across the land.

"Hear our pleas, Bal'met!" shouted the priest. "We make these offerings
to You! Ashaxei fell to your servants, as did Sycaerunax before her.
These remnants of the dragon spirit, we offer to You!"

Churning and twisting, the column of flames became a slowly spinning
vortex. Amidst the primal fire, a multitude of dragon spirits circled
with grace and utter despondence, confined by the looming Dala'myrr.

Then, with a cacophony of clacking mandibles and a thready, high-pitched
keening, one of the great wyrms reared and dove into the flaming vortex,
grasping a dragon spirit firmly in its mandibles and consuming the
apparition. One by one the others followed, and with each apparition
consumed, the inferno darkened, until it was stained a bloody red.

"Across time we call You, Lord of Krenindala! We unite the sacred and
the profane, Dala'myrr and dragon! By our lives and our offerings may
Your fathomless will be manifest!"

As the priest fervently continued his cries, the pillar of fire rising
from the Shrine of Ascension wavered, and a dark, shadowy figure became
visible at its heart. Dwarfing the colossal Dala'myrr that swam around
it, the entity's presence moved the wyrms to writhe through the skies
with religious ecstasy.

Spreading two arms outward, the spectre began to draw the conflagration
inward, and the raging inferno was devoured by the dark shadows. As the
fire was consumed, the baleful presence grew steadily, towering above
the Dala'myrr, becoming a recognisable deity that threw wide His arms,
unleashing a terrifying cry.

Screeching voices twined together into a discordant cacophony as Bal'met
roared, "I...AM!"

Shrieking in delight, the Dala'myrr turned within the skies and dove
into the earth, wholly devouring the ormyrr priests as they burrowed
into the bedrock, leaving the mountain plateau scarred and mutilated in
their wake.

The world was shaken, and the Garden of the Gods showed its distress.
"What bargain have you struck, Shaitan and Apollyon?" questioned
Agatheis. "This is foul, even for you."

The crushing voice of Shaitan rumbled across the lands in response, "You
pathetic wretches, you will know suffering and oppression at the hands
of Bal'met, Our perfect weapon."

"You have tipped Your hand too far!" came the bold cry of Ourania.
Moments later the sentiment was echoed by Mithraea as she proclaimed,
"For once, Moon and Sun speak as one. This will not stand."

"There you are right," came the sinister voice of Apollyon. "I suggest
that You kneel. We have only just begun."

Coldly, the Lord of Oblivion voiced a warning. "Perhaps you mistake
yourselves, Lords of the West," Babel asserted. "Or do you seek to take
up a jade throne long vacant?"

The gods continued to trade words above the calamitous carnage that now
ensued within the Siroccian Mountains, as fighting erupted between the
Mhaldorians, the ormyrr, and all who oppose them.

Cower in fear, Achaea, for the god Bal'met has risen!

Penned by My hand on the 11th of Lupar, in the year 610 AF.