From a time beyond the veil of remembrance the world-wheel spun about the light-giver. Its three concentric rings composed of countless worlds danced in the constant embrace of Aurus. These worlds teemed with all manner of life which had sprung from places older even than the world-wheel itself. Generations, longer for some and shorter for others, lived out their lives upon these worlds; generations so numerous their counts had been forgotten a hundred times over. The world-wheel was perfect, pure, and timeless. And so in this fashion, like a clockwork universe unto itself, it did carry on until it could no longer. Plith, the wandering world, shattered the sky and created magic.

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Verdant planes turned to ash. Great masses fled into the lands of others. Aurus, the light-giver, tried with all of her might to right the cosmos, but it could never be as it had been before. Since that time 30,000 turns of the wheel have passed...