VI: The Mystical Anvil: Muurin. During the next dawn the ominous sun pierced through the glass castle and awoke everyone simultaneously with a chained-yawn. Elves always operated on a wavelength of unison, which only gave them advantages in times of horrid war. At first light, the king wandered up the stairs to the anvil they spotted during last night's arrival, walking up the spiraling-steps, Mondisi saw a glowing blue hammer, placed atop the anvil, the anvil was covered by a strange gazebo made of glass. The king slowly examined the hammer and placed it in his palm, it was like no hammer he had ever gazed upon. The hammer itself required the wielder to use both hands, and all of their strength, the size of the hammer only complimented this, standing at roughly three-feet-long. The actual hammer, was the most peculiarly, accurate cube he had ever seen, and like the palace below him, was also fashioned of glass. Mondisi lifte...
The page you find yourself reading, is the only documentation, the only accounts of a microcosm infected in a state of perpetual terminus. I, Ghloth The Astral, am one of the four, archaic observers, spawned into creation by the grand archaic ones- The Watchers. Three ages have come and passed, the only light that fills the sky, is the hope that some mortal, somewhere, reading this, might just be the next one to light this doomed lands, fading, and hopeless, worldly fire.