The world of Shorn hung alone in its universe, save for a single sun and a single moon, though both were not far from their own death, as their light refused to shine as it once did. No stars remained to gaze upon the desolate earth and waters, all having died out eons before.

Upon this solitary world a war had waged for time immortal, a constant struggle for supremacy between a race of beings that counted time in millennia, and death but an inconvenience. What started the wars has long since been lost in time, or forgotten. None of the clans cared any longer, in any case, for now it was simply a matter of becoming the strongest, the one Family to rule all others.

Once there had been five continents upon Shorn, but over the ages, and through the fall of Clans, those lands had been destroyed down to their very foundations, until even the oceans of their world sought to hide the blight they had become. Now there sat three, one almost completely destroyed, save for a few withholding Clans. It was upon this night that three of those Families chose to meet for a final time, a type of alliance having been formed centuries past.

The family highest among them, the Oen, had a plan.

They met upon the shores of their land, with several GreatShips floating above the buildings erected for just this night. As the other families arrive in their various vehicles, Yawen Oen emerges from the largest of the constructions. He is an imposing figure, dressed completely in black and silver, with the mantle of his clan covering half of his chest. His hair is, dark and tied back at his nape, and eyes of molten rock stare at the heads of the other Clans as the slowly walk up the large rocks, still keeping a safe distance from one another.

“Cyen, Akmae,” Yawen says, nodding his head at each in turn. They do not clasp hands, or touch in any manner at all.

“Is all prepared,” asks Cyen, the one out of the three always able to dispense with pleasantries no matter where they were, or what the cause. Rather than reprimand him, both Yawen and Akmae simply stare at one another, the former finally nodding his head.

“We are ready to depart inside the hour. We only await a few more specimens to board the Sil`Arc.”

Together the three Ze'zhuanth make their way into the large building, as behind them people in black suits come and go from the largest of the Great Ships. They find themselves within a single room, housing only three black chairs in its center, and a single table in the midst of those. Upon the table lays an assortment of food, delicacies they may not see again for quite some time. They all sit, though Cyen is the first to break the silence.

“You are sure none know of this?”

“We have kept their eyes blind and blades busy within the Southern Reaches. They think we prepare a final assault, and that soon thereafter they will eat our flesh.” Yawen laughs, long and hard, his open mouth showing several random fangs, each overlapping his normal teeth by half an inch. Cyen, in his armor of grey, simply stares.

“If they learn of what we plan…”

For the first time, Akmae speaks up into the resulting silence.

“They will not, we shall be gone before they have even an inkling. By this time tomorrow…”

“We will be on Aerth,” Yawen finishes, his toothy smile flashing in the glow of the light-givers.

“Again, what do we know of it?”

Yawen stands and begins to pace, his long hands clasped behind his back.

“It is a world that right now is cast mostly in darkness. Oh, it has a sun and a moon, like ours, as well as stars, but its current civilization is…primitive. They have yet to find an aptitude for steel working, and have not long ago discovered the uses for wheels. Needless to say, they are mostly comprised of hunters and gatherers. Their populations are spread so that there are few, if any, true battles among the population.”

“And you think these.. Humans, will be able to provide us with what we need?”

“Their life spans are short, only fifty turns, if that. If we can isolate that which dwells within their blood, we can use that against these fools, and destroy them once and for all.”


The others nodded, and at that moment a Worker appeared, standing silently until his presence was noted. With a nod from Lord Oen, he spoke.

“The Arc is loaded sire, all is ready.”

Moments later, the three heads of the Clans were secured on one of the three ships. Together they ascended into the heavens above, vanishing beneath the thick clouds that were called upon for just this voyage. As soon as they emerged from their own atmosphere, each ship activated their spatial electron drives, leaping through the blackness of their universe, heading for a world called Aerth.

Even with the waning daylight the basin of trickling rivers and vibrant plant life offered the Oen family one of the most beautiful sights their ancient eyes had ever seen. The location was well beyond their expectations, it was not only secluded, with tall shadowed mountains on all sides, but it was rife with nature and all that came with it.

The head of the Oen family couldn’t help but smile to himself. Despite all of the reasons for them being here this was truly beautiful place, and even if it was for but a few brief moments…it felt at peace.

“Father?” the soft voice of his youngest son pulled his attention back towards the small craft behind him, “what is this place?”

Lord Oen turned back to the scene before him, his eyes falling over the lush trees and glistening streams.

“Adyn,” his muttered to himself, the word filling his mouth with a sweet texture as it fell off of his tongue. He turned, smiling wistfully to the youngest of his three sons, “We’ll call it Adyn.”

His eyes fell over each of his three sons, then his daughter. Oh, his precious jewel…

In her hands she cradled a ornate box, stones and precious metals made up its exterior, while inside rested the key to the creation of their First.

Ash…

The trip had taken them nearly one hundred years, but it would be well worth it for all of them…