In contrast to the ruination and stark reality of modern Fallieni living, if one were to step back through time one would arrive in hedonism incarnate. Cities rose above the desert resplendent, a thousand sunlit domes marking the pinnacle of civilisation. Water flowed freely through street and stand giving life to flora and fauna from across the world. It nestled on the island, drawn to the promise of change and prosperity.

“It was a mistake to come here.”

Mordelain, clad in a dour expression of regret looked out from under her hood at the city she had destroyed. Technology long since lost to time thrummed all around her, channelling the Tap into great portals that connected the city states in a heartbeat.

“Was it a mistake to learn from your hubris?”

Suresh rested a hand on Mordelain’s shoulder. Standing over her and wearing a bulwark of black cloth and plate mail, the merchant master took in the spectacle with eyes unclouded by the long march of years. Though the il’Jhain saw only downfall and calamity, he saw a spark of rebirth that could yet save their homeland.

“I feel like the only thing I learned is to run away. To leap to another world as each slowly burned.”

“But unlike all of history’s villains, you tried to stop what happened. It is not your fault your supposed betters would not heed your warning.”

Mordelain nodded meekly. She had reached out to the Council of Irrakam days before the joining, which sought to bind Althanas to the other worlds so that the web way of portals scattered across Fallien could be closed. Their energy, and their utility diverted to a new project to life the land from the sea. Having mastered time and space, the Fallien of old sought to master land and sea as well.

“I still hold that torch, and it burns.”

Suresh retrieved his hand and lifted his spear. He pointed north along the promenade that lead to the grandest of the domes to the north. He began to walk, affording Mordelain no chance to object or to countermand him.

“I did not ask you to bring me here to dwell in sorrow. It is time I showed you what hope looks like.”

Dreary and sombre, Mordelain followed with ambling pace. Though time had passed, the clothes they had allowed them to blend in as the afternoon turned to evening and crowds formed in the meeting places of Irrakam. Soon, they were surrounded by thousands in a barter war. Had they leapt back to the present, they would have found themselves in Irrakam’s bazaar, though much diminished and in the grip of the hottest and driest summer in a hundred years.

“I have searched this pastiche of history countless times. I have tried time and time again to change fate. Nothing ever comes of it.”

She had exhausted all possibilities of restoring Fallien. In three days, no matter what she did, the Cataclysm would scour Fallien in fire unlike any in the Nine Worlds.