"Zavros, get out of here! You don't--"<br/><br/>Canar's words were cut off as the wave hit, and he began to run, half-dragging his wife towards Zavros. Over their heads, the water was tearing up fences, trees and fields. The chickens in a pen squawked frantically, before being hit by the water and simply erased. As he reached his mothers' hand, Zavros had just enough time to see the house crumpling under the onslaught, like a toy being torn up by a bored child, and then it was upon them. It was like being hit by a wall, with no chance of resisting. They were simply picked up and thrown aside, and the world was suddenly water. The last thing Zavros saw was Suura, smiling from atop her horse as if she'd just heard a mildly amusing joke. And then there was only the crushing cold of water.<br/><br/><br/>.....<br/><br/><br/><em>There was warmth again.</em><br/><br/><div align="center"><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">The Forge</div><div class="spoiler_body">(https://i.imgur.com/TIDc5VUl.jpg)</div></div></div><br/><br/><em>The mountain has been split in half, as though by the blow of a mighty axe, and the magma glows below like the blood of the earth. And atop this stream hovers something that should never fly. A solid structure of stone and metal hovers above the lava, sucking it upwards into what looks like nothing so much as a great blacksmith's forge. And though the heat should be unbearable, you stand there, along with two others.<br/><br/>One is a Dragon-Blooded, the coal-black tint to his skin and his blazing orange hair plainly stating his aspect and how he can endure such heat. Unlike the arrogance you have come to associate with the Dragon-Blooded, his attitude is respectful and that of an apprentice with a revered master. Another looks like a great armoured man, but a moment's inspection shows there is nobody inside that armour--it is a great machine of black iron, silently assisting you.<br/><br/>For even in this strange dying dream, you are working at the forge. Sparks fly as you work hammer blows upon a sword. But that feels like such an inadequate word to describe the creation of glowing metal that lies upon the forge, heated directly by the magma. It is formed from two vats of molten metal, one resembling deep gold that seems to glow from within, and proudly resists your attempts to shape it, yielding only with the most respectful handling. The other is a silvery metal that seems to twist under your efforts, playfully resisting any attempts to give it a form before it has had its fun. The sword they are producing is an object of pure beauty, the hilt shaped into the image of a great serpent coiled around the sun on one side, and a lion sitting atop a waxing moon on the other. The blade flows and ripples as the two metals flow together in a furious union, taking the shape of a long and straight blade.<br/><br/>"Behold!" says a female voice that could come from nobody except yourself. "A fitting gift for such a blessed wedding!"<br/><br/>"It is truly a mighty weapon!" says the Terrestrial, awestruck. "Master, I can barely--"<br/><br/>"A weapon? Yes, I suppose it is." says the voice of the master. "But it is so much more. To build without love, to put nothing of yourself into it....you will end up with a simple weapon or tool. But you will come to understand that if you put your own passion and soul into your works.....they will be more than creations, they will be miracles, eternal and enduring. That was how this Age came to be....and how it will be remade even if the world itself should collapse."<br/><br/>She--you--catch a glimpse of your face in the reflective metal of the forge, and for a moment, this smith from a time lost and unimaginable seems to speak to herself--or to you.<br/><br/><strong>"Do you understand what I am saying?"</strong><br/></em>