For centuries the Prime Exarch and his cohort had held fast within the Firstborn city, its secrets refusing their exhortations. Yet they did not age as the filth of physical realms did, and thus they would have had eons in which to break through the wards of the Aldar and wholly turn it to their goals. Until now. Until an ill-fated attempt spearheaded by Archangels Agadi and , placing all that their collective knew in jeopardy and risk of failure, of discovery. And thus was action required by him, for he was Zafikel. He was righteous, and he was good.

With fire and wrath did Zafikel come, scattering Iojian slaver and Achaean adventurer alike before him like so much chaff. No care was given for allegiance, be it proclaimed or true, for what care needed there be for the dirt beneath his feet? Indeed, none at all. And so, upon retrieving , the Exarch and Archangel departed Ioje, leaving corpses in their wake along with more questions than answers.

At the last redoubt before Saar-elan, Zafikel's Judgement, clear and true, was proclaimed with unflinching resolve upon . Unmaking. No mere death, but cessation and annihilation of what was, what is, and what would be. The act seared across the minds of Achaeans one and all, the dying scream of resonating both back and forward in time as was Unmade. But they were all of them deceived.

Saar-elan's purpose, from its discovery by the Aldar, to its Binding, and then to the great works the Firstborn achieved with it, was not to Unmake. To change, if need be, or add, or to build anew, but never Unmake. The sacred had been profaned, and in a response wild and unformed it sought to correct what could not be corrected, seek what was no longer there to be sought. Upon the boughs of Yggdrasil, the World Tree, where had first Fallen, a gateway of burning light snapped into being. The way was open, and Nur awaited.

Penned by My hand on the 13th of Mayan, in the year 788 AF.