Chapter Eight
In a distant field, beneath a quiet sky, there labored an eggle named Anshar—descendant of Joseph, of the first lineage of the earthborn. As he gathered grain beneath the sun, the earth itself seemed to exhale, and from the mouth of a great cavern nearby, a shadow took form.
From it emerged a D’ Eamon.
Its shape was vast and grotesque, its presence a corruption of all that was natural. The air grew heavy as it approached, and before Anshar could flee, the creatures will seized him. His mind was bound, his spirit subdued.
“Take me to your people,” it commanded.
And he obeyed.
Thus did the evil enter the village.
There, the D’ Eamon unleashed terror without restraint. The eggles were broken, enslaved, and bent to its will. Under its command, they became instruments of a darker purpose.
For the creature sought not conquest alone… but return.
Through foul incantations and corrupted rites, it forced the bewitched to open a gateway—one that reached back into the abyss itself.
And the veil was torn.
But such a wound could not go unseen.
In the southeast, Darmosieph felt it at once—the unmistakable presence of corruption piercing the order of the world. Without delay, he descended upon the source, arriving as the chanting reached its fevered height.
There he beheld the scene: the enslaved eggles, their voices twisted by dark magiks, and before them, the open maw of the abyss.
With but a word, Darmosieph shattered the ritual.
The gateway collapsed.
The connection was severed.
And the hold over the eggles was broken.
Then he spoke, his voice carrying divine command:
“Show yourself.”
And from the shadows, the D’ Eamon emerged.
“Name yourself,” Darmosieph demanded.
And the creature answered with pride unbroken:
“I am Umamphullies… one of the many sons of the Fallen God.”
At this, the air itself seemed to recoil.
Darmosieph raised his hand, and with power unyielding, bound the creature within a circle of divine magik. The abyss called to it once more, and with a final command, he cast Umamphullies back into the depths from which it came.
Thus was the breach sealed.
Thus was the first return repelled.
When the land was made whole and the eggles restored, Darmosieph departed and brought word of all that had transpired to Athengriel, who dwelt at the center of the world.
And Athengriel, hearing this, summoned the Five to his sacred temple.
There, in solemn council, they spoke of what had come to pass. They had long known such a moment would arrive… and now that it had, they understood a greater truth:
It would not be the last.
And more than this—they knew the time for silence had ended.
The fall of Th’ Eamon… the betrayal… the abyss… these could no longer remain hidden from the eggles of the world.
And so Athengriel called upon Terfelial.
The Great Mother Hen came.
And to her, he spoke of the breach, of the creature, and of the growing certainty that the world must be made aware of the darkness that lingered beyond its borders.
Terfelial listened.
And she agreed.
“Let the truth be known,” she said. “Not to sow fear… but to prepare the yokes of those who dwell below.”
Then she gave her decree:
“Go forth. Speak to the tribes of your lands. Tell them of what lies beyond—the shadow that presses against the world. But remind them also… that they are not alone.”
Her gaze was steady. Unshaken.
“For Araboth watches. And through you… it protects.”
And so the Five departed.
Not as distant guardians alone…
But as bearers of truth in a world that had never known the cost of peace.
And the Five did as Terfelial had commanded.
On that very day, each Arucana stood within their appointed dominion and lifted their voices unto the lands. From the mountains of the corners to the sacred center of the world, their words carried across valleys, seas, and cities alike.
And all the eggles heard them.
And on that day, for the first time since the dawn of their world, a single fear was known by all.
Shared.
Felt.
For though they trusted in the Arucana, and though they took comfort in their presence, it was a comfort that could not wholly quiet what had been revealed. The truth had taken root—that beyond their world, beyond the veil of creation, there existed a darkness that watched… and waited.
And the first age, the age of innocence had ended.