What follows is a true and accurate account of what was witnessed by
many today:

The radiant forms of the Bloodsworn Gods, Aurora and Deucalion, are
reflected upon the heavens.

The golden splendour of Aurora's form descends to illuminate the
southern Zaphar River, followed only a second later by the white-hot
fire of Deucalion's passage.

Rich motes of lucent clarity suffuse the skies as the Lightbringer
evokes, "Refugees. Wanderers. Devout servants of Good, of Light, of
Righteousness. We promised you a home."

The firmament burns with white-hot fire as the pure, baritone voice of
Deucalion calls out, "It is time We fulfilled that promise."

Standing upon the shore of the Zaphar, Aurora wields the Sword of
Dunamis in both hands, the blade pointing downward.

The Lightbringer gestures to Deucalion. At once, He moves to Her side,
grasping the sword's hilt below where Her hands rest.

Hand-in-hand, the Bloodsworn Gods raise the legendary weapon, where it
gleams with supernatural brilliance within the firmament.

Together, the Gods thrust the blade into the riverbank, and a sharp
crack rings out, rumbling across Sapience with a heaving roar.

As the bedrock stirs, the Zaphar River begins to froth and foment,
rising to its banks with torrid savagery.

The continent shifts suddenly, and a fissure tears asunder the quiet
expanse to the east of the Zaphar. The split widens as it races towards
the sea, stone and silt crumbling inward to form a dry, empty riverbed.

Large chunks of stone shear away from the cliffs along the eastern
coastline, plummeting into the waters of the Eusian Sea as the fissure
reaches Sapience's edge.

Aurora and Deucalion release Their hold upon the Sword of Dunamis, which
remains firmly implanted in the riverbed.

Visible from dozens of miles away, the vibrant colors of the immense
sword fade as it turns to stone, an enduring monument to the permanent
alteration of the landscape.

Eager and strong, a wall of water surges around the sword and along the
channel, thundering towards the coastline.

The newly born river rushes toward the cliffs, splitting itself around
multiple spits of higher ground and forming islands in the midst flowing
water.

The water reaches the cliffs and leaps free, forming a triad of
waterfalls that carry the river downward to reunite with the sea.

The churning river calms and slows as it fills its new banks.

As the moon shines brightly within the heavens, the newborn river begins
to calm and settle along its course, reflecting an argent light within
its banks.

Rich motes of lucent clarity suffuse the skies as the Lightbringer
evokes, "Behold: Targossas, the Dawnspear!"

Rich motes of lucent clarity suffuse the skies as the Lightbringer
evokes, "Let it be a stronghold, guarded by silvered water!"

The firmament burns with white-hot fire as the pure, baritone voice of
Deucalion calls out, "To the devout We entrust Targossas. Upon this
sacred ground the servants of Light and Righteousness find shelter."

...and thus was spawned the seed of a new city.

Penned by My hand on the 5th of Valnuary, in the year 618 AF.