The Sundering

The Sundering is an apocalyptic event that took place early in the history of the Prime Material.

The Folktale

In the lands of the Republic, this is the tale that is passed down.

In the beginning, were the gods. Some to create, some to destroy, some to taint, others to bring hope, others to simply be. The gods, though, were alone in the universe. Seeking a canvas for their essence, they created the world of Avendar. And, edged along ever so carefully by the gods of creation, they created the alatharya, First Children of the gods.

To the alatharya, the gods gave their greatest gift - Magic. Magic to create, magic to destroy, magic, some portion of each of the god's essences was sent to swirl through the prime material, creating the ether from which mages drew.

As time passed, the alatharya waxed mighty. The gods, pleased, began plans for other creations, each mighty in their own way. But the alatharya were not pleased with the god's plans to make others - jealous of the thought that other children might bring the god's attention away from them, and coveting the quintessence, they sought to steal the power of the gods. With their mighty pyramids, and strange rites, their priests and scholars came together one fateful night for a grand theft. In their hubris, they sought to steal the power of the gods for themselves, and make of themselves creators.

But, alas, 'twas not to be. The gods knew of the theft, and instead of invoking the power of the gods, they invoked their deepest and darkest wrath. All across Avendar, the great cities of the alatharya were rent in blood and fire - their libraries burned, their pyramids turned to rubble, their homes driven to the four winds. The revenge of a god is not a small thing, and the revenge of the combined might of a pantheon can level entire worlds. So it was that the alatharya were cast from their pinnacle as the mightiest of races. No more would the minds of the alatharya follow the intricacies of magic - nor would the alatharya do nought than strive for balance in their day to day life, fearful of retribution for their ancient crime. And, lastly, the gods sundered Magic from its pure form into its elemental components. Water, Spirit, Wind, Fire, Void, and Earth did it break them, and forever shatter the mortal dream of attaining the divine through mystic arts.

This sundering of the Magic released cataclysmic storms of magic over the surface of Avendar, changing and altering all that they touched. Of the god's new children, vast changes were wrought, some for good, some for ill. The aelin were granted flight, and the gift of keen reason. The caldaran learned wisdom, and were turned from the night. At the same time, the brutal srryn were born, spawn of languid swamp and foul hearts. Beneath the earth fled the shuddeni, blind minions of pure darkness, driven mad, some say, by a love of much knowledge.

The centuries after the Sundering of Magic were dark ones. It was not until some hundreds of years that civilization began anew, with the proud aelin and their cities in the skies. Striving, perhaps, for a memory of things past, they collected the artifacts of the ancient alatharya, and built cities that at least faintly echoed the glories of ancient days.