The elf looked back to us and smiled. As Gwenael sat criss-cross applesauce in his tunic, I sat straight up in interest. Obviously, Gwenael knew. He probably knew more than Vanytar. I still did not want to hear his voice.

Vanytar sighed, his face turning much more somber. "It started when Lornius' volcano erupted."

He shuddered, recalling memories which seemed to chill him more than the biting air. "You could hear it from here, the explosion. Then..." His eyes narrowed, "Hours later we received reports of ash clouds which buried smaller islands, slaughtered sailers unlucky enough to be at sea that day. My older sister was one of them."

The wagon a hefty bump. The entire wagon jolted, interrupting his story. I looked up to the sky as I clung to the wagon's railings.

The landscape was changing to move downhill. I saw the bridge between Radansanth and the rest of Corone up ahead. Even the familiar bridge seemed changed by the climate. Vanytar started to speak once the wagon was moreso quiet again.

"Scara Brae somehow survived without too much damage, but worse was to come for us. Because that was when the Brotherhood broke down Radansanth's defenses. An invasion."

The elf scowled, "I suppose that invasion, as costly as it was, saved us. Because apparently the Thaynes or Ethereal Sway or whatever thought a volcano wasn't enough!"

I felt Gwenael stiffen beside me. Not only was he a Thayne himself, but he knew the Thayne had nothing to do with natural disasters like these. Still, I was glued to Vanytar's tale.

"A meteor streaked across from the heavens. A fighter from the Brotherhood saved the city, apparently, according to rumors. But I doubt that really happened. I mean, war stories are commonly exaggerated. Either way, it barely missed our once glorious capital."

I looked ahead as the caravan started to cross the bridge. A small comfort could be found in its faint familiarity. It was sturdy, made of stone. Yet as I watched the murky waters below, I realized with a jolt that no fish swam in it.

I looked up again, drawing a connection. The grey clouds above were permanent. They were caused by the ashes spewed from Lornius' volcano.

And even now the sky dimmed darker.