The Patient

PROLOGUE ONCE UPON A TIME There were wondrous kingdoms of men, so great that when they fell, nothing of them remained, as if history itself could not bear the memory of their loss. They survived only in the fantasies of those who do not die, who left our earth long ago for a distant place beyond the Veil. Those who remained, the ones with their finite lives, could only share vague memories to be told around the campfires. So it came to pass that Avalyne vanished forever into the mists, forgotten in every way save the faint traces of sensation whenever one happened along its places of power. Of the Sacred Three, only Man the Explorer remained. The Immortal elves retreated to their realm, as did the dwarf Master Builders who returned to Tal Shanar and were seen no more. Without the Immortals to teach them, the short memory of Man forgot the stories of what had been. As always, their flames burned bright, but fleetingly. As time moved on and Avalyne disappeared from their minds for all time, they went on believing themselves alone. They regarded the earth as their dominion, not a home they shared with anyone. Their cities rose and fell. Their empires spread out across the land in conquest and then retreated again until they were conquered themselves. Man's reach spread to all corners of the globe and though they sensed something was missing, they did not know what it was. Still, they longed for the magic that once filled their eyes with wonder. Avalyne, the golden age of Man, was dead, and no one remembered it. The glorious kings, like their kingdoms, faded into the ages. Existence became a bitter struggle, devoid of wonder and magic. The sons who followed in the aftermath were a breed apart from those who emerged from Lake Tijon where Sireth gave them life. They were ambitious and driven to master their domain in every manner possible. If there was land, they conquered it. If there were beasts, they tamed them. They destroyed their enemies with such savagery it might have given even the foulest of goblins pause. It seemed Man's grandest moments often accompanied his bloodiest. Yet they craved the beauty of Avalyne, even if they carried no recollections of it. In their hearts, they felt its absence and often wondered when the starlight had vanished from their lives. They sought to recreate it in their endeavours, either in reaching for impossible goals or replacing it with myths of their own. Ill-constructed, too often these led to more bloodshed and violence, lacking any actual value. Man concluded there was no such thing as magic. It was a fanciful illusion best abandoned. Innocence burned away and what remained was indifference. Once discarded, man continued his existence with a juggernaut of change, not always for the better. An insatiable need arose to conquer all frontiers, and when exhausted, the snake began feeding upon itself, threatening implosion. It was only a matter of time before someone took advantage of this chaos to turn the march of industry into the spiral of Armageddon. It was the hunt for the very thing lost that allowed this catastrophe to find its root in the present, long after Avalyne’s day. The quest for Magic had birthed Evil. Behind the Veil separating one world from another, the Immortals lived in a strange sort of stasis. They enjoyed beauty and tranquillity in a realm unchanged for over a hundred thousand mortal years. For the most part, they were content. Every so often, some took to leaving their enchanted home. Their curiosity of the outside world compelled them to see what had become of Avalyne in their absence. Most returned soon after, others did not return at all. Eventually the stories revealed the same thing. There was no reason to venture forth. The world was spoiled by men, and it was best the Immortals washed their hands of it. Instead, they devoted themselves to their own pursuits, removed from the harsher realities of existence in their sanctuary realm. The tragic times of the early ages melted away to a distant memory. After a while, it was difficult to remember they once battled such creatures as Mael, his servant Balfure, and their Primordial armies. While the Celestials became even more unapproachable with the passing ages, the Elves who shared the Veil with them were a little more grounded. They remembered with fondness the world left behind and mourned the changes suffered since their departure. They thought well of men, understanding it was unfair to judge a race whose lives were so finite when they possessed all the time there was. Mortals were not evil, they were young, and the nature of their existence ensured they would never live long enough to gain true wisdom. Even when the Immortals roamed Avalyne, they accepted the younger races as children needing guidance. Sequestering themselves behind the Veil for thousands of years did not change this belief. Perhaps it was because they were so removed from danger and evil, it took them by surprise when it reappeared. Tremors of chaos rippled through their land, not even the barrier separating their realms keeping it away. It was like the sun stealing behind the clouds for a moment, taking with it the heat and leaving a brief interlude of cold. All suffered the chill, even the Celestials. Although they remained ignorant of what caused it, they knew something was emerging, something dark and terrible was taking root in the outside world. In the aftermath, there were many rumblings of discourse emanating from the High Castle, the mansion of the Celestials. The Immortals held their breaths in anticipation as the Celestials debated what to do. While the cause of the disturbance was unknown to them, its urgency was undeniable. For the first time since the Primordial Wars, the caretaker gods were shaken out of their complacency, though what might cause this was something the Elves could not fathom. After much deliberation, Enphilim the King God chose his most trusted servant to go forth into the world once more, to deal with the danger capable of consuming all the realms. He set this task to Tamsyn, a seraf who distinguished himself during the downfall of Mael's black servant Balfure. As always, Tamsyn accepted the duty before him without question and prepared for his departure across the Veil. The warrior prince Aeron offered to accompany Tamsyn on his noble mission, but the seraf declined. The world beyond bore no use for Elves and might not receive Aeron well. Tamsyn suspected Aeron's presence would complicate an already perilous quest, and so he set out through the mists alone. For a time, the Celestials sensed their agent in the other world, heard his thoughts as he conducted himself on their behalf. Then, without warning, their connection to Tamsyn was severed. From then on, he became as profound a mystery to those behind the Veil as the one prompting his journey. They knew he was not dead, for a seraf’s soul would return to his Celestial masters in such a situation. Wherever Tamsyn had disappeared, he remained lost there for the next four hundred years.