𝑬𝒐𝒏 𝑰𝑰 - 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑬𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝑴𝒂𝒏𝒂 (𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔)

𝑬𝒓𝒂 𝑰 - 𝑬𝒓𝒂 𝒐𝒇 𝑴𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒕

𝑨 𝑷𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝑵𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒈𝒊𝒂

Cerulean lashes that cast a veil over her pearl-colored eyes, the sun at just the right angle to illuminate the translucent scales on her cheek. Beneath that tree, with my palm on her chest, a wry smile replaced the missing sound of a heartbeat. Her hand was warm, and her wings fell up and down, rising and falling with each passing breath. As summer replaced spring I saw her less, in autumn little, and in winter not at all. As if it’d all been a child’s imagination, not a single feather could be found, and her lacey ribbons were absent. Maybe they were hiding, somewhere camouflaged in the snow. From then on, I fell asleep alone, under the shadow of that tree. 

𝑬𝒓𝒂 𝑰𝑰 - 𝑬𝒓𝒂 𝒐𝒇 𝑩𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒅𝒆

𝑫𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝑾𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔

The iron bell clang against a mountain, echoing throughout the colorless sky, screaming of a liberation on the ashen plateau. The earth trembled, guided by uneven footsteps. They were much too heavy to belong to an animal, and too violent to belong to a machine. It was as if a god had carved a statue from a stone cliff, and from his taboo impulse released it from the abyss. At the plateaus edge, I hid behind a sharp boulder, my back against the rock. The rain had begun to pour vehemently, and the jet-black waters flooded up towards my feet. Deeper in the water, something crawled with a disconnected body, sharpening its teeth while emitting a strange static. I turned my head, just enough to see behind the stone, hoping for an opportunity to reach higher ground. The thing was still there, a darkness that roamed on all-fours. Its ram-like horns curled until the ends dug into its own skull, and it kept observing the sky. Then it stood, its shadow descending over the mountains. Its front hooves morphed into hands to grasp at the storm clouds, the bell crashed louder, the static enveloped my bones, and the sea creeped onto my torso. From the sky came a thunderous wailing, long forsaken and corroded.

𝑬𝒓𝒂 𝑰𝑰𝑰 - 𝑬𝒓𝒂 𝒐𝒇 𝑨𝒑𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒚𝒑𝒔𝒆

A calamity whose fangs shadowed over islands. Mana so dense it fluctuated the Aether; it’s eyes gleaming gold like lightning. Scales which seemed to contain the abyss, and a roar that parted the ocean. 

Neroma, the Dragon God, who was slain by the mortal wielding it’s broken horn.

𝙀𝙤𝙣 𝙄𝙄𝙄 - 𝙀𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝘿𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙍𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙖𝙡

Near a vendor of foreign jewels, there was a giantess, the grandchild of a long-lived friend. Once upon a time he lived to see half an era in his youth, and an entire world in his innocence.

She browsed the onyx-colored corals and the Fey-green diamonds with her eyes, too cautious to inspect them with her fingertips. In particular, the girl focused on a luminescent ruby morphed into the figure of a pearl, whose light reflected off the neighboring displays to put on some sort of dance stage on the white satin.

She’d awaken to find what she appraised, in her palm by morning, and her reaction hinted at a mischief- that she knew me as a story before my visit. A grey adobe without a connected road, most fitting for her travels. It was drawn by a cloud in the month of Ghrin, when snow meets rebirth and the clouds end their hibernation to embrace the sun. It might’ve been our first and last meeting; therefore, was the hope a part of me would become permanent. Maybe even outside the discovered world, beyond Exona, where I had never ventured before my passing. 

In the valley called Eversil, the Hearth of the World, was a small tavern for where adventurers and their kin sprouted their stories. It was a popular place of gathering for passing the months of nightfall and served as a network of information. Outside was the soft mana-frost snow, gift of the Winter Whale, which stained the glass and tinted it turquoise. Inside were the songs of bards and the tellings of popular stories: tales of dragon slaying, discoveries of arcana, and even the trendiest rumors of romance. There was a board of every Behemoth encountered by humanity and public scrolls for basic incantations and rites, most of which for blessings of a goddess or for the good natured, white-magic practitioners, mostly children who wanted to roleplay as oracles in the woods for Dormae creatures. In one corner was a rough-faced returnee who boasted he was a warlord in his past life and told epics in return for pints of… fermented grapes. In another corner was an awkward child painting a spell circle with fruit juice, the spectators cheering and laughing with either endearment or curiosity. A few nights here will set you off for the next decade or so, starting in the Season of Mercy, Soren.

A traveling muse knocked on the door, and an ecstatic crowd welcomed her in, along with her songs. Lyrics slowly filled the room, revealing trials for the next generation in glowing, lime-colored floating letters.

Heart of the Elder-God, located in a Labyrinth on the continent of Erynthia, the nest of behemoths

The Heir of Apocalypse, within the carcass of Neroma, the continent of dragon corpse

The Cataclysm of Stardust, known as the Eye of Orinthillis

Itha, the Spirit of Fairy Realms and Golden Ether

Hew, the Vacant Throne of Swords, veiled by the Lights of Incinderis

Reis Karmien, Monolith of the Living Hurricane

[Extra Information]

Dormae are small wild creatures, typically of the forest. Tamed ones are classified as Ashen. Larger animals that are typically considered to be as strong or stronger than humans are labeled Dormaul and Anthu, respectively, depending on if they’re tamed.

The Widely Accepted Calendar used by humanity contains 13 months, each consisting of 28 days. For easy way of remembering: Snow months have 5 letters, Rebirth/Growth months have 6, Tempest months have 7, Dark months (Months of Nightmares) have 8-12

In order those are:

Erist

Zahra

Ghrin

Soren

Nhyxah

Zypher

Verina

Yei-msyt

Zyakile

Laheria

Jegantha

Vexanine

Noirinth