The morning of the peace conference dawned. Our ancestors awoke to find the five Dragon Lords, leaders of the Balaur, standing alone outside the Aetheric Field. The drawings we have of the day show them to be physically huge creatures, much larger than the other Balaur.

Siel and Israphel, the two Empyrean Lords charged with protecting the tower itself, lowered the Aetheric Field, and invited the Dragon Lords inside the tower for negotiations. Here was a chance for these creatures to destroy us entirely, and yet they chose not to, instead walking peacefully through our settlements and into the tower. Perhaps we had gained their respect through our resilience and determination, and perhaps this trust that we, and Ariel, had placed in them was not misplaced at all. Asphel was present, and with him his cronies, their faces dark. The peace conference began, and for a short while negotiations were progressing well.

Then, in a moment’s breath, it happened.

We still speak of the events that followed that day, of the sudden shouts of panic, of the sickening certainty that gripped us all: the warmongers would have their way, even if they had to sacrifice all of Atreia to achieve it. We saw Asphel move swiftly and suddenly, and the Dragon Lord Vitra collapse. The Balaur did not waste time with words. In an instant, there was carnage and chaos.

Their hatred redoubled, they hacked their way past us and into the very substance of Aion itself. The walls of the Tower shivered and cracked, coming away in titanic shards.

Ariel wept as she strove to hold the Tower of Eternity intact. Sent to its southern base to lend her energy to the Tower, along with all of her attendant Lords, she was now all that stood between Atreia and destruction. Asphel and his group, sent northwards with the same purpose, were no doubt too enthralled with the sudden resumption of hostilities to do their duty and hold the Tower intact.

For despite Ariel’s striving, the Lords failed. The Tower gave a mighty groan, buckled and shattered from end to end. Aion fell.

I cannot speak of the fear that gripped our forefathers when the great tower that spanned the interior of Atreia suddenly shifted and cracked. We tell tales of thousands running for their lives, pandemonium in their wake.

Realising that Atreia itself was dying, Siel and Israphel sacrificed themselves. They each drained their bodies of Aether, their blood, and in their final moments used it to safeguard our people.

Millions died in the event which we now know as the Epic Cataclysm. Finally, as the debris settled, we could see what had happened to our beautiful world: Aion, the Tower of Eternity, was shattered, and our world was torn in two.