"The Journal of a Lost Prince", By Prince Donfin Fardori (Page 1)
I come from a long line of igasho kings, of which Keltus the Enlightened
was the first to claim that title, for he was the founder of Climanti,
the Jeweled City of the Icewynds. Climanti stood for twelve hundred
years, a beacon of beauty and justice in the endless war against the
Soulless Gods. Originally, it was a fortress retreat for the Climaru,
the warrior caste devoted to fighting the Soulless God known as Zenos
the Insubstantial. The fortress grew as word spread of the Climaru
training techniques, becoming one of the great cities in the war,
raising an Edifice of Power, called the Piercing Needles of Transcendent
Ice, from which ascended the Vernal Goddess Juliana the Evenhanded. The
first settlers were igasho, as am I, but we are a slow bred people, and
soon Climanti was filled with trill, lucidian, merian, and even
dracnari. Was ever there a city more prosperous and integrated?

The Climaru trained in the arts of psychic combat, for that was one of
the only ways to confront Zenos directly, for that Soulless God could
infiltrate the minds of the gods themselves, and glean your tactics and
strategies even before you could formulate the thought. Zenos traveled
invisible throughout the land, creating thought forms of himself and
sending them out to scout and do his bidding. These thought forms
contained a portion of the power of Zenos himself, whirling dervishes of
calculated hate and monstrous intelligence.

We told ourselves that, if any were prepared against a direct assault of
Zenos himself, it was the City of Climanti. With the Climaru trained in
psychic combat, the Edifice of Power at its peak, ice spears that could
take down the thought forms of Zenos, and a cadre of dracnari-trained
ice phoenixes, even with all of that, even with our preparations, our
training, our faith, when Zenos actually attacked, we were helpless,
like snow wassets caught in the bright sun, the city fell in minutes.
Those final hours are burned into my mind and will plague my dreams
until the end of my days.

It began when my father, King Claudari Fardori, was visited by the
Vernal Gods. The Goddess Juliana who was ascended of Climanti arrived
with the Goddesses Vestera and Kiakoda and the Gods Dionamus and
Klangratch. Never in my memory had we ever been so honoured by a visit
of so many Vernal Gods.

But I did not know what counsel they gave my father. I only knew after
they left, my father's shoulders were slumped, his fur dropped, and his
eyes were haunted. Father was known as a jolly igasho, a Climaru of
standing and strength, an optimist who inspired others. But after the
Vernal Gods left, he was a changed igasho. And he refused to tell me
what troubled him so.

When strangers arrived and pressured my father to investigate the rumors
of an imminent attack, he reluctantly agreed. I did not understand why
he was so hesitant at the time, though now that I know the truth, I wish
I did not.

We were able to confirm that Zenos himself was approaching Climanti.
Father went through the motions of preparation, but he seemed so remote,
so disinterested so uncaring. But he was my father, my king, and I
explained away his moods.

The biggest clue to the treachery was the obfuscation of the Ice Haven,
the last sanctuary of Climanti against an assault by the Soulless Gods.
The Vernal Gods had constructed an artifact, the Glacial Crown of
Protection, steeped in their magic, meant to be a place where citizens
could be evacuated and concealed from the eyes of the Soulless Gods. It
was our last defense.

But the Ice Haven had begun to act strangely, as though the dimensions
of time and space were warring with each other. Corridors led to places
they were not supposed to go, sometimes they never ended at all. Rooms
shifted without warning, and the atmosphere itself was dead and heavy,
making even the simplest actions take an eternity.

Just as troubling, the tunnels in the sanctuary were beset by snow
wassets, vicious creatures that were discovered beneath Climanti when it
was first founded. The essence of wassets attracted the Soulless Gods
like an ice bear to honeyed snow. They were thought to have exterminated
long ago, but in those final days, they appeared as thick as creepers on
a roof.

Alarms sounded, warning of an imminent attack by Zenos. With the help of
strangers, I was able to begin the evacuation into the Ice Haven.
Despite its strange behavior, it was the only sanctuary we had. In the
midst of this chaos, a runner came to me with a summons from my father.
King Claudari demanded my presence. I quickly climbed the icy stairs
that led out of the Ice Haven, thankful that no strange tricks of
shifting rooms were played on me.

My father was not in the towers, nor near the ice spear, nor even in the
throne room. He was not directing the evacuation or helping to prepare
the defenses or rallying the Climaru. He was on a back path that led out
of the city to the Icewynd Mountains. He was dressed for travel, mounted
on an ice mammoth, surrounded by a dozen or so of the Climaru, igasho
all.

"Father! You seek to meet Zenos in battle on foot?" I asked, trying to
understand what this was about. "You know Zenos will attack from above!
Surely there are enough ice phoenix mounts if you wish to mount a direct
assault."

"No, my son," Father said, his eyes downcast as he twisted the reigns on
the mammoth around his fist. "We do not seek battle. We mean to ride
out."

"Do you seek to lure Zenos to you?" I asked, still not comprehending.

"We will take the hunting trails," said Father. "Zenos will not notice
us, or even if he does, our numbers are small enough that he will not be
turned away from Climanti."

"I do not understand," I said, stepping back.

"We are fleeing Climanti, my son, before Zenos arrives, for if I stay,
everything would be placed in jeopardy."

"What do you mean?" I gasped.

"I know the Vernal Gods have set a trap in Climanti. The Goddess Vestera
altered the Glacial Crown to trap Zenos. But the trick was that Zenos
had to enter the Ice Havens completely, and we needed souls to lure him
in.

"Our people are the bait?"

"Yes, my son. Once Zenos enters the trap, it will close, sealing him
within the Ice haven forever. We will have finally won the war against
Zenos. It is what the Climaru have devoted themselves for. It was why
Climanti itself was founded. We will have won."

"But we must warn our people then! They will be trapped within the Ice
Haven as well! We must get as many out as we can!"

"No, my son. The destruction of Climanti cannot be averted. If people
began leaving the city, Zenos would have no reason to go to the Ice
Haven. This is why you must come with me and flee."

"That is treason, father! How can I leave our people."

"How can you stay? Now that you know what I know, Zenos will plunder the
information from your mind as easily as a wasset sucks the yolk from a
phoenix egg. If you were to stay or tell others the truth, Zenos will
not enter the Ice Haven to feed, but destroy it from above, out of spite
and vengeance. Then, Climanti will have fallen for nothing. This is why
you must leave with me. Now."

I may as well a been trapped in the dimensional shifts of the Ice Haven
as I was by what my father told me. But father's logic was inescapable.
Stay here and Zenos would be alerted to the plan, causing Climanti and
its people to be destroyed. If abandoned my people to this horrible
fate, Zenos would be forever trapped. Father swung off his ice mammoth
and came to me, slipping an ice bear cloak over my shoulders. As he
tried to embrace me, I jerked away.

"I wish you had never told me," I hissed. "I would rather have died with
our people!"

Father's eyes were filled with such despair that I almost apologized,
but instead I turned away and climbed upon the mammoth that had been
prepared for me. Without a word, I turned to leave Climanti. Father
silently followed me without a word, his retinue bringing up the rear.

We had traveled for perhaps five hours away when Zenos attacked
Climanti. We took cover under an outcrop of craggy rocks and watched the
fall. The first wave were the thought forms of Zenos, visible to the
Climaru with our psychic sight. They came in numbers I had never seen
before, swarming over the city with their invisible toxic winds. We saw
ice spears let loose, bringing several of the thought forms crashing
down, but there were far too many to overcome. As the thought forms were
roiling throughout the city, Zenos himself finally appeared, a terrible
swirling storm that spanned the entire sky, shedding lighting down like
thunderous blows from the heavens above.

Carefully, Zenos circled the city several times, his thought forms
plundering the minds of those below, seeking traps but eventually
finding none. Thus, did Zenos the Soulless God enter Climanti, drifting
down, feeding upon the populace, greedily seeking out the Ice Haven.

I felt sick but could not look away. I was heedless of the tears that
froze upon the fur of my cheeks. And then it happened. Zenos suddenly
was sucked down into the whole of the Ice Haven, his thought forms
trailing in his wake. The psychic scream of rage and desperation nearly
flattened all of us, even from so far away.

"Look!" I said, pointing. "Some trill are escaping!"

My heart leapt for joy as I saw dozens of trill suddenly flinging
themselves into the sky. At least a few were escaping. The last four
trill, however, those bringing up the rear, were caught by the last
thought form that was caught half way in the trap. The trill were caught
in its psychic tendrils, and jerked down into the city.

We waited several heart beats, but then the final trigger of the trap
was sprung, causing a massive explosion to erupt from Climanti. At first
it was silent, a light that blossomed out, as bright as Father Sun.
Finally, a thunderous boom laid everything flat, shaking the entire
Icewynd Mountains. Watching in silence, we stared as the plumes of smoke
and debris. We were finally driven into nearby caves as the aftermath of
Zenos caused a storm unlike any other. My father tried to speak to me,
but I turned my back and stalked away.

The next morning, a Climaru warrior came to me, his face drawn and
haggard. His eyes were glowing red, preternaturally. Later, we would
realize that all of us who witnessed the fall of Climanti had such a
strange red light in our eyes, as though we were branded by our own
failures. The warrior told me that my father would not leave his
shelter. The other warriors were too afraid to approach him, so
eventually I did. The night had softened my stance against my father
somewhat. Was all this worth it? To sacrifice so many but perhaps to
save the world?

I went to say these things to my father, but the fur around his nose and
lips lay still. I reached out and touched his forehead, which was as
cold as the bitterest ice. I noticed his hand was clenched on a vial. I
pried his fingers loose and sniffed the contents. Crotamine. A poison
that would kill within minutes. I hid the bottle from the other Climaru,
for they were burdened with enough tragedy. I would shoulder this alone.

"King Fardori died in his sleep of a broken heart," I told them. I
suppose it was true enough.

In the days that followed, we set up camp. We tried to contact the trill
survivors, but they refused to meet with us. I could understand why and
did not press the matter. The four trill who had fallen in Climanti
somehow, impossibly, survived, rising up from ruins in the following
weeks. What had happened to them? They glittered like ice caught under
the hot rays of Summer, their wingspans were larger than I've ever seen
before on trill. Something was wrong but I did not know what. We watched
them circle around the Icewynd Mountains in apprehension and awe.

Later, we would discover that they took new names and proclaimed
themselves to be angels, kin to gods, setting themselves up as guardians
of the trill survivors. We would not interfere, but we set up barriers
against them. What new found magic did they possess that was born of
Zenos? What had been done to them in those final hours?

It was several months later before the Vernal Gods returned. They spent
weeks placing a seal over the prison of Zenos, magical workings that
floated over the city, a cascade of effervescent energies that
solidified around the ruins of what was left of Climanti. We stood
vigil, watching them, and eventually one broke off and came to us.

It was the Goddess Juliana, known as the Evenhanded, born and ascended
from the Piercing Needle of Transcendent Ice. Her eyes were tired, sad
and distant. Her clothes were still of the finest linen, blocked with
rich colours over which she wore a girdle of white metal links, chained
and heavily enchanted. Upon golden wings, she flew to us, alighting in
front of us, wearing a circlet of stars upon her brow. But even with all
that finery and power, the toll of the wars had marked her. A blackened
patch upon her girdle, her hair disarrayed, an ugly scar on her neck
that disappeared beneath her tunic, hiding just how severe it was.

Our Goddess Juliana had betrayed us to save the world. How else could it
be explained? We were seated around a campfire when she came and stood
before us. We had veiled our faces so only our red eyes would be
revealed and just stared at her with these cursed eyes.. She made no
remarks, but just stood patiently before us. Finally, I stood and faced
her. The others wanted me to speak for them, I knew, though I was no
king, no leader, just another survivor like them.

"Where is King Fardori?" Juliana asked me.

"He is dead," I said simply, softly.

"I see," she replied. Perhaps she read the truth in my eyes.

"Was it worth the cost?" I asked, gesturing towards Climanti.

"No," she said but her voice was hard. "Of course not! But there was
little choice. The Soulless War draws to an end. These are the final
days. We had to press our advantage, and there was little choice. Now,
there is only Kethuru left in retreat, the other Soulless Gods are
trapped behind great seals. But Kethuru is greater than all the others.
What he may do next"

Juliana trailed off, shaking her head. She looked at me and cocked her
head. Was she expecting absolution? Forgiveness? Understanding? I gave
her none.

"Thus Climanti was sacrificed," I said, staring at her with my eyes of
flame.

"So it had to be," she said, returning my stare, though I had the
satisfaction of seeing the haunted pain that shone within.

"And what of those left behind?" I asked. "Will their souls be free?
Will they be at peace? At least give us that much."

Juliana was silent for some time before she said, barely above a
whisper, "The souls of those who were left behind will not escape the
prison. They will be in torment to the end of time. Their shades shall
rise as specters in years ahead, but they will never be able to leave
the gravity of the prison, for it anchors the stuff of spirit as well as
form."

Stumbling backwards, I shook my head in shock. Our people were not just
abandoned. They were doomed. Juliana would not meet my eyes. She seemed
to slump into herself.

"There may be a chance to give them some peace," she said. "It is a
theory of the God d'Varsha. If you could find a way into the past, the
link could give them some respite, however brief, freeing them from the
moment of death."

"Travel to the past? That is impossible."

"Perhaps it is, but it is the only hope I can offer."

"Some trill did escape," I said. "But four of them were transformed
somehow."

"We can sense them, she said, unsurprised. "They are touched by Zenos,
perhaps conduits for him. We cannot track them down, however, for they
are able to conceal themselves from us. We would stay and try to root
them out, but the war we cannot afford the time."

"Will they try to free Zenos?" I asked, suddenly filled with dread.

"I doubt they could break the Great Seal that holds Zenos," said
Juliana. "But it may be prudent to keep watch over the prison, make sure
they do not attempt to free him."

"You want us to guard the ruins?" I asked, though she seemed not to hear
the coldness in my voice.

"In the clouds over the ice plains, we are leaving an artifact," she
said, pointing to where the several Vernal Gods were flying overhead.
"It is called the Living Spire of Celestial Winds, which will help
protect Climanti. It will give warning if anything threatens the Great
Seal and offer some defense."

"So this is a new duty you ask of us and perhaps so too for our
descendents and their descendents, to keep watch over Climanti until the
end of time."

"That is what I ask of you," she said, her voice soft yet stern. "I must
ask it of you."

By this time, the other Climaru stood up and flanked me, our eyes
blazing like crimson suns. We stared down the Goddess until she looked
away. Overhead, the promised artifact spun in the clouds, the Living
Spire of Celestial Winds. The other Vernal Gods began flying away or
creating portals to depart. Their war must go on.

Juliana started to speak but changed her mind. She bowed her head to us,
and then turned her back.

"I am sorry," she said, looking out over the ruins of Climanti, then
took wing.

"You have forsaken us, Juliana," I shouted after her. Something broke
inside of me, anger and anguish filling me with unspeakable rage.

She paused in her flight, slightly, but then continued her flight. I
amplified my voice with a psychic charge, taken up by the other Climaru,
a shout that perhaps was heard around the world.

"We are the Forsaken! We are the Forsaken!"