Approximately five hundred years ago a great disaster befell the first human empire ending what is believed to be a several thousand-year rule, a rule that withstood numerous world-ending threats in the past many of which are much more well-known than the great disaster. In this paper, I will discuss a few of the theories surrounding The Great Disaster some outlandish even for that great empire of the past and others so mundane that even the nations of today could fall victim to them.

Of these theories, only a handful of facts have been verified in the half-century since the disaster, and the many scholars working to this day are hard-set to find more in-depth secrets.

One well-known fact is that the Great Empire spoke the exact same language as the human nations of the modern era the language being so imperceptibly similar that even children have been known to misidentify ancient texts as storybooks left in the dirt.

This leads me to my first theory and quite possibly the easiest to verify however no scholar has yet managed to prove or disprove it.

I am referring to the great capital of the empire or more specifically how many found texts claim that the capital was a singular building rather than a city or fortress, it is my firm belief that this building was, in fact, a library of immense size and not a college like others in this field have speculated.

While this theory may prove controversial for the kingdom of Falluge as their magic academy is claimed to be a near replica of the lost city I need only point to the fact that on the numerous expeditions into the Scar, all that survivors have managed to bring back are relatively common books containing knowledge well known to even to us.

So I ask, how could this great city-sized school not have managed to produce a single piece of lost knowledge despite dozens of our best and brightest giving their lives for even a scrap of paper?

Excerpt from ‘The Lost Age’ by Grand Mage Victoria Ligsworth.

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The overwhelming stench of blood is bringing me to my limit and I choke down a gag, I give my thanks to the heavy weight on my back for keeping my mind off the horrid affair that is hunting.

We’ve been walking for hours now and with no progress to show for it I'm left to my thoughts which at the moment may be the best course of action seeing as how my guide is not a fan of conversation. Again I am reminded how utterly stupid it was to try and ask if he spoke my language in my language, I blame the American education system.

Okay, facts time! Im not in Africa, I think!

To be clear this is a guess but I should be somewhere in the middle east closer to Eastern Europe or West Asia. Strange flora and topography aside my guide is the best guess I have of my surroundings, he's a native or at least an immigrant from a nearby country possibly something bordering Russia.

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He’s got short blonde hair with brown eyes and high cheekbones, not Asian but if it weren't for his hair distance would definitely make me second guess his home country. That could also explain his inability to speak English as I doubt that if he was bilingual he wouldn't pick something more practical for the region. Either way, I have a clue, and for now, it's the best one I've had in days far better than abstract forest and desert landscapes.

Okay, how to go from here, the obvious choice is to go native not like my life was so grand back home that I'm rushing to return this very second, I like American conveniences and all but not enough to go through hell to get back there. Another option would be to claim asylum in Europe as I'm almost positive this counts as a failed attempt at human trafficking or some shit, the issue with that is I have no way to verify whether or not I'm in actual danger if I return to civilization.

AGH! Why does this shit have to be so complicated!

For now, I'm stuck until this big dude agrees to drop me off somewhere less wild.

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The kid’s not as sheltered as I thought, being able to keep up with me for so long in the state he's in is a feat of its own though I suspect he's nearing his limits, Lucky for him the village is less than an hour away now. Trees begin to thin out from our logging and it’s easy to see the edge of our efforts even from here as the trunks start thinning out more and more as we walk.

I hear him grumbling in that strange language of his every word sending shivers down my spine and forcing me to double check that he isn't casting something the moment I let my guard down, I sigh in relief my sight finding nothing unusual. He doesn't know common, he’s probably not a mage, and he's way too weak to be out here alone, again I am both confused and very concerned as to why he's so far out from any of the cities without a guard of some kind.

Of his many injuries, not one looks like the work of a fight, a lot of them are shallow but jagged like the work of a fall or him crashing into something at high speed, running from something and then falling and getting lost perhaps? I’ll get a better look once he’s in a bed and calmed down a bit more, he looks wound up tighter than a crossbow and mad as all hells.

The village defenses finally come into sight, a massive wall of trees anchored deep into the ground, it isn’t going to stop anyone truly determined but that's not the point, if we wanted a wall for the sake of a wall I would’ve had Oliver make it out of iron and not wasted my time setting up the real defense. In front of the wall is a shallow moat filled with sharpened wooden spikes good for deterring most of the wildlife but again only adds to the illusion that we’re an underprepared town of hicks, inside the wall is where the magic happens.

Glyphs run in a full circuit throughout the insides of the wall ready to release a torrent of pure mana at the first thing to break the seal, rather ingenious but the design isn’t mine I stole it from a prototype my wife designed. She’d kill me if she were still with us.

I’m halfway around the wall when I notice my tag-along isn’t beside me anymore, my heart rate triples as the worst scenario passes me by, and circling back there he is standing perfectly still eyes locked to the wall before him. My approach is unnoticed so I fake cough and at last, he faces me, in his eye I see the look of a man who’s ready to die. The look of a man returning from the horrors of war only to find his wife and child long dead and his life utterly in shambles, he follows me the silence from before somehow even thicker.

We pass the gate, he sets the pelt gently on the ground and promptly collapses.