"Velathra..." Nythera sighed.

Before them lay the remnants of a once beautiful city, a grand epicenter of knowledge, magical advancement, power, and culture all reduced to ruin. From their vantage point, they saw the outskirts stretching as far as the eye could see—an endless expanse of ancient structures buried beneath a thick blanket of nature's reclamation. The mossy overgrowth spread over what was probably once a towering city, shining resplendently from afar. Paired with the mishmash of colorful flora were the gravely hues of crumbling stone, the jade greens of grass and weeds, and the haunting beauty of nature's work free of restraint.

The outer perimeter, what looked like a wall or perhaps a series of once proud fortifications for the city, was now completely unrecognizable. It looked more like a treacherous path, some kind of collapsed jungle gym, rather than any form of wall or perimeter. Rubble and half-toppled buildings lined what was once the first great defense of Velathra. Now, all that remained were shadows, debris, and memories. Atlas could only make guesses as to what it had been, trying to envision the majestic cityscape his family wished he had seen.

Beyond the ruins of the perimeter, as they journeyed forth, was district after district of sprawling but organized concentric circles. He could tell the general idea of Velathra's design—it was built with concentric circles of districts that probably differentiated the focus of each zone, the fortifications between each being stronger than the next. Blanc and Shine had shared with him that the Arkaen very rarely had concepts of nobility or royalty; these only rose in very particular species. Thus, the residential district was well-guarded for everyone. There was an unspoken weight to the air of this place, a feeling that it had once been something far greater than he could imagine.

Now, the ancient pathways between the districts were shattered, forcing them to climb over collapsed buildings that made traversing easier. The grand floating platforms he'd heard of were nowhere, and the spires that had once reached the "stars" were broken and toppled, their foundations reclaimed by the earth.

He scanned the landscape ahead—a graveyard of a once proud and glorious people, of a civilization. Structures that had been home to scholars, craftsmen, and warriors were now crumbled ruins. Places of importance like auction houses, government buildings, and a massive structure that leaned towards the mountain like a castle trying to move—all were shattered. Atlas could make out what was likely once a grand plaza, its shattered pillars and disjointed stones still echoing the design of a once harmonious gathering place. He saw unique designs on all kinds of pillars, even on the spires, as if making them easier to climb, probably for the Spiris population of Velathra. They were not the only resident population of Arkaen races, just the ones that had founded it and cared the most.

"Was this... the center?" Atlas whispered, his eyes tracing the distant collapsed spires that would have once risen from the inner districts, marking the heart of Velathra, a collective of peoples of many kinds.

The Astera Spiris varied greatly in size, some being as large as super-yachts, others as small as a football. This made the buildings that were first built cater to their variability. Over time, as more peoples joined this grand civilization, what was once Velathra for just the Spiris adapted again, this time for these other races. The Spiris went further into the mountain to live in Krelithar in harmony. They'd come down whenever needed or wanted to, but their massive members had a harder time doing so without adopting their humanoid transformations, which was usually a sign they were already an elder.

Nythera didn't respond to his question immediately. Her eyes were fixed on what remained of the innermost circle. The Astral Nexus, she thought. This was the central hub of the city that had once held the largest, most developed essence wells on the entire continent of Nitelfall. They were ahead of others not through luck or geography, but by the blood, sweat, and tears of their people. All that remained to show it were the outlines of what it might've once been.

Now, all that was left was a deep scar in the earth, a void where the essence had once flowed freely. The Nexus no longer hummed with power. The collapse had not only taken the structures but left the very air hollow.

Whatever had happened, Nythera could tell that the origin was below, in Undermir, the city underneath Velathra. It should also be somewhere directly below the Nexus too. She could tell based on the signs of damage to the buildings nearby being higher than those at the farthest perimeters.

"Yes..." she finally whispered, her voice low, almost reverent. "This was the center. The Astral Nexus... Velathra's heart. It was the pulse of our people, our power, our hope. Now it's... nothing."

Atlas felt a chill spread down his spine as he imagined the power that had once coursed through this place. If he understood their earlier explanations of Essence and harnessing it, this place, the Astral Nexus, was akin to a manifold more potent but safer nuclear reactor. There was a lot more to it, but since the scene was depressing, the author chose not to infodump.

Atlas could still feel the faint echoes of it, but it was no longer alive. He just chocked it up to his apparently unique 'nature.' Whatever had caused this catastrophe—the fall of this beautiful city—had left it broken, but not quite dead. Just a hollow, echoing memory of what once was.

Shine and Blanc stood silently, their minds long snapped. They could barely even react anymore. They'd seen all these buildings time after time in their memories. They'd burned with the child's hope of returning home, like all kids do after school. They didn't just have memories of these buildings from strangers afar. No, they had detailed memories of their construction, their remodeling, and all the funny aspects their Ancestors chose to pass down. This was their history in physical form, as far as they were concerned. Yet, this was the reality they'd returned to. Their reactions made sense; they didn't even have tears left to cry, just shattered hopes and dreams, sorrow for the people they'd hoped to meet and to love.

Atlas clenched his fists at this sight. Not just the destruction—the fall of Velathra—but the seeming impossibility of it all. Nythera had already mentioned that there didn't appear to have been a struggle. Whatever had happened seemed completely unstoppable. It was eerie, like at any moment, whatever had done this could do it again. They had no idea yet what had happened, but Atlas couldn't hold back his indignant curiosity any longer. He wasn't quite sure why his emotions seemed unusually potent when they concerned his new family. He'd already noticed this strange growth in his feelings before. It didn't feel natural to him—not his type of natural at least—but it didn't bother him much. He just hoped to figure it out eventually.

"What... What happened here...?" Atlas finally muttered, his breath just above a whisper so as not to startle his siblings.

Nythera's eyes hardened, her gaze never leaving the heart of Velathra as she whispered, "We'll soon find out. I can sense lives in the distance. There aren't many. It seems they don't use Velathra as their homes anymore, but rather the remnants of Krelithar. Come, let's go," she said, moving ahead quickly.

Atlas just nodded, his expression solemn. He didn't know why, but ever since he'd heard that voice, he took in every single detail he possibly could. He wasn't the type to read too far into things, especially with how bad villains were typically written. But this concerned some aspect of his life, and he didn't want to be too lax with it.

Tapping his siblings on the shoulders to grab their attention, Atlas just nodded his head in Nythera's direction, letting them know to follow. He knew they needed time, so he wouldn't say anything until they were ready.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

As they followed along, moving swiftly to keep up with the Primordial Elder, the trio of hatchlings each had their thoughts. Blanc wanted revenge. Shine prayed for her people. And Atlas just felt weak, disgustingly weak.

Humans were always weak on Earth. Even a body-builder, taekwondo black belt, or MMA fighter—all of them were weak. One bullet was all it took. One well-placed bullet. But here, it was different. If Nythera was any example, the people of [Sellene] could become absurdly powerful, and yet, this entire city was practically razed to the ground. It happened in hours too, apparently. If that wasn't the grandest reminder of weakness, he didn't know what was, and it felt far more unsettling because it hadn't even happened to him, but he had no idea what "it" was.

Sinking deeper into these thoughts, the trio hadn't even noticed when they left the edge of the once-city. They walked through a smaller but equally flourishing forest towards the true base of the mountain, where a gigantic metal door was set in the stone. It was so large Atlas would have sworn Earthlings wouldn't be capable of it. It might have been as tall as three empire state buildings.

"That's fucking crazy," he muttered, completely gobsmacked. He couldn't even imagine what ungodly strength was required to even nudge it, but it didn't take long for his worldview to be shattered again.

One wave of Nythera's palm, one small motion, that was all it took for the titanic metal doors to slowly swing open. They glowed in beautiful archaic rune patterns, blindingly bright, as if a doorway to heaven had just materialized before them. A few seconds later, the loud boom of the doors finally stopping shook the hatchlings awake.

"This is the Cradle. The most fortified location in all of Velathra. Not just the city—the entire land of Velathra. It would be hard for even those parasites to breach this place. If anyone had known what was happening beforehand, they'd have come here," Nythera said, her eyes settling upon a contingent of beings far in the distance, behind the now-opened doors of this massive structure, the Cradle.

"All hatchlings, all eggs, all beings that consider themselves Velathran, were born in this place. Not only is it the safest location, it is the most advanced in the field of life and biological research. Children are the future—Velathra knew it well, thus the Cradle was one of the most important places of all," she said, her eyes glazing over with pride. Even if the city had fallen, even if the people had died, the Cradle still stood, guarding their future. This would never change, not so long as a single Velathran lived on.

The proof was in sight. Just beyond the doors stood two human-looking old men. Both were slightly different—one had a spider's lower body, and the other had two spider legs on his back, four at his waist, and two for his hands.

They were Astera Spiris elders—the guardians and leaders of their respective fields among their people. Seeing the incoming party, Nythera in the lead, both showed expressions of shock—not the subtle kind, but the completely "my mind is playing some serious fuckery right now" kind.

Before they could daze any longer, the group was just in front of the door, the three hatchlings nervously waiting behind Nythera as the two old men collected themselves and kneeled.

""WE STAND BEFORE THE ANCIENT ONE, SHE WHO SEES THE DEEPEST NIGHT. ELDERS THEO AND FERYN HAIL THE MOTHER WHO SHAPES THE SOULS LIKE LIGHT. GREAT MOTHER OF PATH AND MIGHT, YOUR RETURN MAKES OUR HEARTS TAKE FLIGHT!"" their voices boomed, shaking the very air around them. Their emotions were entirely pure. How the hatchlings knew? Simple. They loaded their voices with every feeling they held.

Reverence, hope, disappointment, self-loathing, shame, and finally joy. They felt it all.

"Stand, younglings. I haven't seen elders so young in ages... You must've worked hard. I imagine you took up this burden far before you were ready. Do not continue to bear the weight of another's [Path] or mistake—you are far too young to have anything to do with the destruction before me. Where are your seniors? Where are the others? I need to find out what happened." Nythera said, both comforting and questioning the two elders before her.

They were both old—at least by Atlas's standards—but to her, knowing the lifespan of the standard Arkaen, they were just brats. 380 years old and 420. They were far too young to normally be elders, but had taken the mantle anyway. This could mean many things, and each one made Nythera's heart drop further.

Hearing the words of this vaunted figure before them, the two Elders, Theo and Feryn, promptly stood and approached. As they arrived before her, Feryn eyed the hatchlings with a look that seemed to realize something, but he kept silent, allowing Theo to speak.

"It is our honor to welcome you, Primordial Pillar. I'm just sorry your return is at such a... such a difficult time. To have your first sight of Velathra in eons be this... I don't have enough hearts to bear the shame of this disgrace," he said, his eyes turning red. It was obvious how strongly these two worshiped Nythera, and they couldn't be blamed for this. Nythera was one of the first six Spiris to break past her bestial nature. She was living testament to every single part of Spiris history, aside from the over 11 million years she was away.

"Calm yourself, youngling. I already said you are not at fault, do not make me repeat myself. There is no shame for you to bear. The fall of Velathra was obviously far before your time. But this matter is important to me—I wish to know what happened. Explain." she said, her voice a mix of command and comfort. It was like a mother ordering a beloved son—firm, but loving.

"Yes, Great Mother. I will tell you all that I know. I merely hope this too doesn't disappoint you," Theo said, looking toward Feryn with a strange look on his face.

"What do you mean?"

"It's like this, Great Mother. We... No. Rather, of everyone we've met, even the supreme leaders of the three other Arkaen states—nobody, and I mean no one at all, knows a single thing about the fall of Velathra. This extends from my seniors' time to their seniors' time. All we know is that it happened exactly one thousand years ago from this year," Theo explained with a complicated expression.

Atlas felt like if he wasn't before a figure he respected so greatly, he'd probably kick a rock or something. The frustration in his eyes was so deep he'd dare say it could cut someone. But this made sense. The explanation they'd just heard was too ridiculous. If it was a lie, it was already absurd, but if it was really true—manifold more so.

"How is that possible? That makes no sense. Are you saying the entirety of Velathra actually fell in hours? Those markings aren't degraded by time dilation?" Nythera asked, equally shocked as Atlas.

"Yes, Great Mother. As far as is recorded, Velathra fell practically overnight. It was so fast that not even the other three Arkaenums could respond. Apparently, they didn't even receive news or communication about anything until they actually found it in its current state."

"What about survivors? The Cradle still stands—surely there were survivors."

"... That is where things begin to get complicated, Great Mother." Theo paused, looking toward Feryn as if telling him to explain.

Nodding his head, he did just that, taking a step forward and beginning to narrate, "There were survivors. All of the eggs inside at the time, both those in the process of soul-awakening and those that were not. This also included the Broodguard of that generation, but as the uniqueness of their oaths restrict them to the Cradle, they were bound to it and unable to leave amidst whatever had happened. In addition to the Broodguards, there were also four elders in the labs that day. This was told to us by our seniors before they left," Feryn paused, allowing his words to soak in.

"Go on."

"They said that of the four elders, three had no knowledge of what had happened—they merely felt the rampage of something they described as 'inviolable,' as if beyond worldly power. Furthermore, in the midst of the ruckus outside, the Broodguard wouldn't allow anyone to leave until they'd confirmed it was safe. Thus, the elders were restricted to the Cradle as well, until everything was over..."

"And the final elder? You said there were four."

"The final elder was the Velathran Arch-Seer of that generation, Yethra."

"How lucky," Nythera mused derisively, feeling she pretty much knew how that Arch-Seer knew to go to the Cradle before anything happened.

"Continue," she said, her face placid.

"Yes. Yethra was the final lead of the Seniors, and their only hope in finding the truth of what happened. Even if all but the few powers in the Cradle remained, we are Spiris—if there was a chance at revenge, they'd make it bloody by any means necessary. But that wasn't what happened."

"You aren't about to tell me this was something internal, are you?"

"No. We do not believe so. Instead, it was the absurdity of the situation with Yethra that halted all advances of the remaining three elders. When all of the adults that remained at that time went to ask her for guidance, Elder Sprade questioned her on her knowledge of what happened, even going so far as invoking a sacred tablet of truth. He'd earned it by succeeding in the previous decade's alchemy forum debate. As you know, the tablets of truth were developed by the second Primordial Pillar. There was no way for Yethra to avoid the questions, except if one very specific condition was met."

"A Soulbinding Oath..."