Unveiled, the Ascended God Xynthin began to answer questions as quickly
as He could, ever keeping His perceptions outwards, cautiously
searching. Shocked silence and stunned faces looked upon Him, though as
His tail unwound, Ragniliff and Xenthos began to realize and piece
together more and more. And so the sad story of Xynthin was told.

In Juliary of 327, the Ascendant of Nature, Xynthin, chanced upon a
temporal tear caused by the Wheel of the Goloths. Such were not entirely
uncommon, for they occurred and unoccurred more and more rapidly the
longer the Wheel spun. Passing through the tear, the Ascendant found
himself in a day and era long past. The Basin of Life was torn by war
and disease. New Celest had seen Soll Peulus master the Staff of
Ascension, the first to do so, and rise - reborn in the Immanidivinus -
as Ayridion, the White Flame. The Dread Lord of Contagion had lead many
assaults against the Basin of Life, Shellma Natharian was slain in her
attempt to claim the Pool of Stars and Ascend. And as Xynthin stepped
into that age, the Dread Lord, avatar of the Great Muud, had set upon
the nine seals themselves, causing them to slowly rot and decay.

Xynthin knew what was to come - the Ascended God Ayridion was to
sacrifice himself, purging the Nine Seals and creating the Threshold
Abyss - the very reason Xynthin could not himself ascend in his own era.
He acted to stop Ayridion, believing that the ascension of another god
would empower the seals and stop the Dread Lord, and he intended to be
that god. He was half right - though the Domotheos of Nature rebuked
him, Xenthos still possessed the Seal of Life from a prior trial, and
the Domotheos of Life was rife with energy, having not long ago raised
Ayridion into godhood. Riding the currents of the undamaged domoths into
the Immanidivinus, Xynthin the True Ascendant was reborn as Xynthin, the
Ascended God. Glomdoring crowed triumphantly - here they had a god born
of the Wyrd, imbibed with the pure energies of the Domotheos of Life and
the Immanidivinus. He was, in Glomdoring's eyes, the Wyrd given flesh
and form.

Their victory was short-lived. No matter what was done from that point
forward, the Elder and Ascended Gods could not save the Seals. The
damage done was too far along - they cracked and shattered. The Avenger
Himself perished in the cataclysm that followed, and the Soulless Gods,
asleep for thousands of years, awoke. Reality shuddered as it careened
towards its inevitable unexistence until Estarra the Eternal came forth
and destroyed all of reality. All that was was not, all that could be
could not be, and all that existed perished in an infinitisimal moment
that none would ever have perceived, save perhaps the Gods and Soulless
Themselves.

Shifting to the point in time moments before Xynthin would have found
the rift, Estarra lashed out. The impudence of one to so meddle in time
and bring about the end of reality had shocked even Her, and from
Xynthin she stripped his name as a True Ascendant, defaming and cursing
his existence for what he would do. Though he retained much of his
power, there was an indefinable loss, something forever denied to him.
He was once more Xenthos An'Ryshe of the Glomdoring.

With the divergent timeline destroyed and Xenthos denied the opportunity
to become Xynthin the God, Estarra the Eternal had set right the
direction of time, marching onwards towards its fate, whatever it may
be. It was irrelevant to Her that Xynthin the God had somehow survived,
kept alive by His connection to the Immanidivinus - he was adrift in the
unending nothingness left behind by the destruction of reality, barely
existing, a shadow of what once was the Glomdoring, Wyrd and barely a
memory of a sliver of what was the First World. His existence was a
continued anomaly, but with nothing to effect, it was an almost suitable
punishment - to cause the decay of Reality, and in turn forever exist
alone.

Then came the Wheel of the Goloths. Mother Night, in all her veiled and
shadowed glory, knew much that few could see. And so, when the
opportunity arose, she used the Wheel of the Goloths to draw forth the
Ascended God Xynthin. It was a struggle at first - He had become
accepting of His lack of existence, and being drawn into reality once
more was an almost unsettling proposition. It was His service to the
Wyrd, He later remarked, that drew Him forth. Night had called on Him to
bring the Wyrd to glory and triumph over the First World, and He would
answer the call. And it was then that Xynthin, Wyrden Glory came into
the First World as the Veiled God, tentative and uncertain as to what He
would discover.

His tale coming to its end, Estarra the Eternal Herself descended, both
intrigued and amused by the turn of events. Her gaze shifted from
Xenthos to Xynthin as She remarked on the rippling effects of decisions,
wondering aloud what would come of it all. Remarking that they were
lucky She had not simply annihilated them both from every existence,
Estarra the Eternal departed, Xynthin not long after. And as Xenthos
returned to hunting the remnants of undead invaders, Tacita Shee-Slaugh
realized the torn nature of her feelings - and remembered the whispered
warning she had once been given.

And like a river, time flows on in an inexorable march, flowing and
crashing about obstructions and obstacles while dragging everything else
along with it. Though it may be redirected and divergent paths forged,
it flows onwards until it reaches its end, refusing to be stopped before
it is ready. And, chilled by more than the cold of Mother Night, Xenthos
An'Ryshe was discovering what it meant to be an obstruction in the way
of Time.


Penned by My hand on the 13th of Shanthin, in the year 338 CE.