Strange events heralded the dawn of a new day as nexuses started
behaving erratically. Power was drawn and given, gained and lost, all
without clear reason. The irregularities puzzled the citizens of the
Basin but were no cause for alarm until planar surges started
teleporting people onto the astral plane at random. Strange dreams and
prophecies showing dark portents of the future were experienced by many
and whisperings of the worst were on everyone's lips. The strange events
surrounding the nexusus continued and got increasingly worse; astral
creatures were sighted on the cosmic planes, slaughtering all that came
close, pandemonium ruled the higher planar spheres.

Then the voice of Lacostian was heard for the first time in decades,
speaking to any who would listen. Shimmering patterns of arcane symbols
were seen and the voice of Lacostian spoke garbled through the fulcrux,
difficult to make out. Piece by piece the events unfurled, and though
Lacostian was hard to understand, a complete picture was eventually
established.

Lacostian had retired into the Akashic several decades ago to meditate
when He was disturbed from his reverie by an imbalance. Lacostian
noticed fraying edges in the pattern of planar reality and quickly sent
out a summons for His brother, Elcyrion. Together they surveyed the
situation and decided that this would become a major problem. Neither of
them knew what was causing the problem at that point though, so they
decided that Lacostian would meditate upon the frayed edges while
Elcyrion would set out into the aetherways to find the ancient workshop
of Xyl, named Xion, which should have the power and equipment to handle
any planar catastrophe.

Decades passed and the pattern continued to fray, when Lacostian next
woke from his reverie the Akashic was disconnected from reality and
stuck between two planar layers, effectively making it impossible for
Lacostian to escape or even communicate with those outside the akashic.
Lacostian simply waited, knowing that eventually the pattern would fray
enough for him to be able to establish a magical connection to the
prime.

Before Lacostian could finish His entire story however, the spell
failed, forcefully severing the connection between Prime and the
Akashic, leaving many mortals standing around in confusion.

Everyone scoured the aetherways for any sign of Xion, but none where to
be found, while at the same time the planar instabilities increased,
sending hordes of aetherway creatures raging across prime. There was
little to do but to resist and hope that Lacostian would manage to make
contact again. Many died in the fights against the aetherway creatures
but the invasions were repelled successfully.

About one month later the sky was once more filled with arcane patterns
and Lacostian spoke again. Many quickly gathered in the fulcrux where
Lacostian asked if Xion had been found. When it was stated that there
was neither sign from Xion nor Elcyrion, Lacostian seemed quiet for a
while before speaking with renewed purpose. Lacostian quickly explained
that there were now no options left, and that He was going to perish.
The Akashic was slowly being ground into shards and dust between layers
of reality and so too would Lacostian's essence eventually be destroyed.

Lacostian quickly gave a set of instructions; He would cast a last
magnificent spell, which would make it possible for mortals to
reconstruct on of Xyl's original spires on Mount Avechna. Through this
spire, mortals would find a way to reach Xion and find out what had
happened to Elcyrion, which now seemed the only way to avert the
complete fraying of reality. Lacostian stated that the piercing effects
of the Nexusus were the cause and this information should be relayed to
Elcyrion, who would then be able to try and avert the fate of the
multiverse by harnessing the powers of Xion for the first time in
thousands of years.

The fulcrux went quiet. The realm went quiet. The planes themselves
appeared to be holding their breath in expectation of what was now to
happen.

Suddenly a magnificent spectacle of arcane lines danced into a three
dimensional pattern of incredible complexity, casting a spell that
sliced through the layers of planes and prime alike to strike into the
peak of Mount Avechna which started shimmering with colours. Shimmering
waves of energy rippled across the sky, leaving trails of churning
reality in their wake as a resounding scream of utter anguish was heard
across all the planes, followed by the screeching noise of shattering
glass as the Akashic was destroyed. Waves of aethereal energy spliced
through with fragments of mist rushed across the aetherways and planes
in a torrent of power and whispers before fading slowly.

And then there was only silence.

Penned by My hand on the 4th of Dioni, in the year 162 CE.