Then the gods moved to close off the world of Midkemia to the Dragon Lords for eternity. They turned to the rifts they had allowed to form, and they sealed them. Suddenly the last route between the stars was closed off. A barrier was erected. The Dragon Host tried in vain to penetrate this curtain, but to no avail. They were denied return to Midkemia’s universe and they raged in frustration, vowing to find means of entrance.
Then it was over. The Chaos Wars, the Days of the Mad Gods’ Rage, the Time of Star Death: by whatever name it would come to be called, the clash between that which was and that which followed was finished. When it was over, and the skies had again been cleansed of insanity, Ashen-Shugar left his cavern. Returning to the plain before the city of Draken-Korin, he observed the aftermath of the mightiest struggle recorded. He landed Shuruga, then allowed the dragon to hunt. For a long time he silently waited for something, he couldn’t be sure what.
Hours passed, then at last the other voice spoke. What is this place?
“The Desolation of the Chaos Wars. Draken-Korin’s monument, the lifeless tundra that was once great grasslands. Few living things abide here. Most creatures flee to the south and more hospitable climes.”
Who are you?
Ashen-Shugar felt amusement. Laughing, he said, “I am what you are becoming. We are as one. So you have said many times.” His laughter ceased. He was the first of his race to laugh. There was a sadness underlying the humour, for to understand humour marked Ashen-Shugar as something beyond any Valheru, and he knew he was witness to the beginning of a new era.
I had forgotten.
Ashen-Shugar, last of the Valheru, called Shuruga back from his hunt. Mounting his steed, he glanced at the spot where Draken-Korin had been defeated, marked only by ash. Shuruga took to the skies, high above the aftermath of destruction.
It is worthy of sorrow.
“I think not,” said the Valheru. “There is a lesson, though I cannot bring myself to know it. Yet I sense you do.” Ashen-Shugar closed his eyes a moment as his head throbbed. The other voice had again vanished from his mind. Ignoring the wonder of this odd personality who had come to influence him over the years, he turned his attention to his last task. Over mountains the Valheru rode, seeking those things enslaved by his kind. Within the forests of the southern continent, Ashen-Shugar raced over the stronghold of the tiger-men. In a voice loud enough to be heard, he cried, “Let it be known that from this day you are a free people.”
The leader of the tiger-men called back, “What of our master?”
“He is gone. Your destiny is in your own hands. By my word I, Ashen-Shugar, say this is so.”
Then to the south, to where the serpent race created by Alma-Lodaka resided, he went. And there his words were greeted with hisses of terror and anger. “How may we survive without our mistress, she who is our goddess-mother?”
“That is for you to decide. You are a free people.” The serpents were not pleased and set about to discover means how their mistress could again be recalled. As a race they made a vow, that until the end of time they would work to bring back her who was their mother and their goddess, Alma-Lodaka. From that day forward, the priesthood became the ultimate power within the society of the Pantathian serpent people.
Around the world he flew, and everywhere he passed, the words were spoken: “Your destiny is your own. All are a free people.” At last he reached the strange place fashioned by Draken-Korin and the others. There gathered were the elves. Landing upon the plain, the Valheru said, “Let the word go forth. From this moment you are free.”
The elves looked among themselves, and one said, “What does this mean?”
“You are free to do as you wish. No one will care for you or direct your lives.” The spokesman bowed and said, “But, master, those who are wisest among us have gone with your brethren, and with them goes the lore, the knowledge, and the power. We are weak without the eldar. How, then, will we survive?”
“Your destiny is now your own to forge as best you may. Should you be weak you will perish. Should you be strong, you will survive. And mark you well, there are new forces let loose upon the land. Creatures of alien nature are come here, and with them shall you strive or make peace, as you will, for they also seek their destiny. But there will be a new order, and in it must you find a place. It may be you shall need raise yourself above others and exercise dominion, or it may be they will destroy you. Or perhaps peace is possible between you. That is for you to decide. I am done with you all, save this one last command. This place is forbidden, upon pain of my wrath. Let none enter it again.” With a wave of his hand he fashioned mighty magic and the small city of the Valheru slowly sank under the ground. “Let the dusts of time bury it and let none remember it. This is my will.”
The elves bowed and said, “As it is willed, master, so you will be obeyed.” The eldest of the elves turned to his brethren and said, “None may enter this place: let none approach. It is vanished from mortal eye; it is not remembered.”