It all started quietly enough. One morning, I woke up to hear that strange blue orbs were being found in the lands. These orbs possessed a striking power and were much sought after, because they could kill any creature nearby. But not 'kill' really, because the creatures simply vanished in a way that defied ordinary reason. They were called 'Soulglasses' because it was thought they captured the spirit of the vanquished.
Soon enough, these orbs seemed to appear everywhere, so thick that it became hard not to trip on them! By then, most everyone had one, and creatures were being 'orbed' left and right. Then it started to become clear that these were no ordinary weapons, but a seductive and powerful weapon being used against _us_ even as we wielded it.
Strange holes began appearing in the lands, but they were not-holes but 'rifts' in the fabric of the world. Stepping in one led to near instant falling, in a place that was not-a-place as we knew of. Rescue from there was impossible. When exiles fallen into a rift noticed that orbed creatures, as well as other unwary exiles, began to rain down on them, it was clear. Using an orb sent the hapless creatures into this not-place, and also strengthened the bonds of the rifts to our own world.
Most exiles stopped using orbs then, but others with less foresight or fewer scruples persisted in their use, aiding unknown dark forces. With great difficulty, an orb could be destroyed, yet with ease they could be made to reproduce. Exiles began to separate into two camps: "orbers", and those who resisted the easy and corruptive power the orbs seemed to give.
Soon it was discovered that a rift could be weakened and eventually closed by healing it with moonstones. Exiles rushed to close each rift as soon as it was found, for new rifts were weak but rapidly grow strong and devoured entire sn'ells. The masters behind the orbs and the rifts, our enemies, then revealed themselves. Darshak and their Undine allies swarmed to defend the rifts from healing and closure. Great battles were fought. Some were won, others lost. But with each loss, one small region of the island became inaccessible and unrecoverable.
Into this struggle, there appeared an ancient artifact, an unlikely ally. Or perhaps, the struggle itself awakened a sleeping and long-dormant power. Beyond the Abyss, the Adytum beckoned. The Adytum, a stronghold of the power of light over darkness. The Adytum, where the incredibly ancient twin obelisks of the Dialyth somehow radiated a strange, powerful beacon, and welcomed exiles exhausted from the rift wars.
When most of the island's physical self was lost to the onslaught of rifts, and when finally the Temple and even Purgatory were breached by the rifts, the Adytum brought exiles unto itself, to serve it and protect it from the dark forces. For finally, the dread Lords of the Darshak focused their attacks on the Adytum itself, the final remaining place of light.
When all seemed darkest, a way to carry on the battle at the heart of the enemy was found. Exiles passing through a portal into the land of shadows and darkness could burn with an eerie fire, and while burning, be nearly invincible. Wave after wave of exiles burned taintless, and scoured the shadow-worlds to kill the agents of darkness. Others remained and defended the Adytum's physical self from armies of evil. Many times the tide of battle turned, yet light finally prevailed. A new world was spun out from the void and exiles streamed there, exhausted, but with joy in their hearts at their victory and their new beginning.
Some say the darkness was utterly defeated, and has no great power in this new world.
Yet, I have observed that light always makes shadows, and that shadows cannot exist without the light.
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