Lorebuilder -- Bedtime Reading Interlude

Ceangal settled into his bedroll, but he couldn't sleep.  After a time, he withdrew the tome he found in the hoard that the chimerae had. He began to read...

"The Shattering of Worlds: The Neheuol Chronicles"

Authored by Elduin Shaphine, Scribe of the Neheuol Elves, 692nd Year of the Golden Sun

Almost seven hundred years have passed since the event known across the Feywild as i Channad, or “The Shattering.” It was a time when our worlds — the Feywild, the Shadowfell, and the Earth of the humans — were rent asunder by forces we do not fully comprehend, spilling their contents into one another in a cataclysmic surge. The humans call this event “The Magiclysm,” a crude and simplistic term for a calamity that altered the very fabric of existence.

I, Elduin Shaphine of the Neheuol Elves, a scribe and historian, have spent centuries gathering the legends and stories of our people and our allies to try and understand this event. The tales I record here are drawn from the wisdom of the Neheuol Elves, as well as the histories passed down by the centaurs, dwarves, giants, and other denizens of the Feywild. They are incomplete, as all histories must be, but perhaps they hold a glimmer of truth in their shared threads.

The Neheuol Elves

For our people, i Channad marks a dark and somber chapter. The forest of our birth was spared the worst of the chaos, but we have always stood as guardians of the Cave at the World’s End. This cave, deep in the Heel of the World, has long served as a passage between realms. It is said that when the Shattering occurred, the veil between the Feywild and the Shadowfell tore most violently here, and from its depths emerged horrors not seen in our world before. Demihumans from the Shadowfell—twisted reflections of our own kind—and abominable monsters flooded through, leaving a trail of death and corruption in their wake.

The legends of the Neheuol tell of a warrior-king, Faendros the Ever-Watchful, who was said to have wielded the Blade of Sunlight. He and his warriors held the Cave at the World’s End for twenty days and nights against these invaders. But even Faendros could not stem the tide, and in the final battle, he was said to have driven his blade into the earth, sealing the passage for a time. His sacrifice is remembered in the carvings upon the Pillar of Faendros, which stands at the mouth of the cave to this day. Yet we Neheuol Elves know that this seal is temporary, and the dangers it guards against have not been vanquished.

Among the Neheuol Elves, no tale is told with more reverence and sorrow than that of Faendros the Ever-Watchful, the warrior-king who stood as a bulwark against the horrors unleashed by i Channad, the Shattering. His story, etched in song and stone, serves as both a reminder of the elves’ duty to guard the borders between realms and a warning of the lingering threats that still loom at the edge of their world.

In the years leading up to i Channad, the Neheuol Elves felt a growing unease in the very air of the Feywild. The trees whispered warnings, and the animals fled deeper into the forests. The sky above the Heel of the World, the mountain range that cradled the Cave at the World’s End, shimmered with an unnatural light—golden, yet tinged with darkness. The elders of the Neheuol consulted the stars and found only cryptic omens: a coming storm, an unstoppable force.

Faendros, then a young warrior-prince, had already begun to make a name for himself as a fierce protector of the Neheuol. His watchful eye and tireless vigilance earned him the title of Ever-Watchful. But even he could not foresee the true scale of the disaster that was about to befall them.

When i Channad struck, the Blade of Sunlight, an ancient weapon passed down through his family, began to glow with an intensity never before seen, as if it was reacting to the very fabric of the world being torn asunder. Word reached Faendros that monstrous beings had begun to pour through the Cave at the World’s End—abominations from the Shadowfell, twisted by the dark energies unleashed by the Shattering.

Faendros, newly crowned as king after the sudden death of his father, took up the Blade of Sunlight and led his warriors to the Cave at the World’s End, a place the Neheuol had always guarded as a sacred passage between the Feywild, the Shadowfell, and Earth. It was said that the cave connected the heart of the Feywild to realms of unimaginable terror, and that should its guardians falter, the darkness would spill over into the Feywild, corrupting all.

It was also said that the cave was hungry. That it would devour those who entered it and digest them to feed the insatiable appetite of the mountains.

For twenty days and nights, Faendros and his warriors held the line against the invaders. The creatures that emerged from the cave were not of any familiar kind—they were twisted mockeries of life, shadows with burning eyes, creatures that seemed to drip with the essence of the Imladris, the magical plague. They lashed out with claws of darkness and mouths filled with the screams of the damned. Faendros’s warriors, though skilled and steadfast, were pushed to their limits. Yet Faendros stood at the forefront, his Blade of Sunlight cleaving through the dark with a radiance that burned even the strongest of the creatures.

As the days wore on, it became clear that this was no simple incursion. The rift between the Feywild and the Shadowfell had been torn too wide. Despite their efforts, more creatures poured through with each passing moment. The Neheuol’s forces were dwindling, and Faendros knew they could not hold much longer.

On the twentieth day, under the light of a distorted, golden sun that hung unnaturally in the sky, the largest wave of monsters yet surged from the cave. Among them was a being unlike any other—a massive, serpentine creature with wings of shadow and eyes that burned with a hunger for destruction. It was said to be a creature born from the deepest pit of the Shadowfell, a harbinger of the end.

Faendros knew that their time was running out. He gathered his remaining warriors, forming a defensive line at the mouth of the cave, determined to hold until the very last. But even he could see that it would not be enough. The darkness was too great, and the monsters too numerous.

In the final moments of the battle, Faendros made a fateful decision. He raised his Blade of Sunlight high into the air, calling upon the last of its ancient magic. With a cry that echoed through the mountains, he drove the blade deep into the earth at the entrance to the cave. A brilliant, blinding light erupted from the blade, sealing the passage with an enchanted barrier. The creatures that remained outside were consumed by the light, while those within the cave were trapped behind the barrier.

But the act of sealing the cave came at a terrible cost. Faendros, having poured his life force into the blade, collapsed at the entrance of the cave. His body, it is said, turned to stone, becoming one with the earth he had sworn to protect. His sacrifice sealed the passage, but the magic of the blade, like all things, would not last forever.

To this day, the Pillar of Faendros stands at the mouth of the Cave at the World’s End. It is a towering stone monolith, carved with the likeness of Faendros himself, his hand resting upon the hilt of the Blade of Sunlight. Elven runes inscribed upon the pillar recount the tale of his sacrifice, and a warning that the seal is not eternal. Every Neheuol child is taught from a young age to respect the Pillar of Faendros, for they know that it stands as a fragile barrier between their world and the horrors of the Shadowfell.

Though the Blade of Sunlight remains buried beneath the earth, its power still flickers faintly. Some believe that it could be recovered in times of great need, but doing so would break the seal and invite the darkness to return.

In honor of Faendros, the Neheuol Elves have maintained a constant vigil at the Cave at the World’s End, knowing that the dangers he fought are not truly gone. The Vigil of Faendros is a sacred duty passed down through generations. Every ten years, the elves gather at the cave to renew the protective wards that strengthen the seal, and to remember the sacrifices of those who came before them.

The legend of Faendros serves as a reminder that the Feywild is never truly safe, and that the forces that once nearly destroyed it still lurk in the darkness, waiting for the seal to weaken. The Neheuol believe that one day, the seal will fail, and when that day comes, Faendros’s spirit will rise again to guide them in their final battle against the shadows.

The Centaurs for Disease Control

The plague that followed i Channad was perhaps the greatest scourge ever to afflict our world. Known to us as Lhingol Naur—the "Fire of Madness"—it spread like wildfire, claiming the minds and bodies of all it touched. Its origin is uncertain, though many blame the invasion of the Shadowfell for its creation. The centaurs, who had always been scattered tribes, united for the first time under a new banner, becoming healers and protectors of life. The Centaurs for Disease Control, or the Tauremathar, as they call themselves, rose from the chaos of the event they call Iltgüi Salhi ("The Wind of Blight").

Legend tells of Erelion, a centaur healer who braved the heart of the Swamp of Ineffable Gloom—a dark nexus of corruption that exists in both the Feywild and the Shadowfell. There, she sought to understand the nature of the plague. It is said that she found its source in a twisted tree, blackened with rot, from which the disease spread. She died there, but her discoveries paved the way for the containment of Lhingol Naur and the eventual birth of the Centaur Healers. To this day, they roam the Feywild, forever on guard for the return of the Fire of Madness.

The Dwarves of Feyhome

The dwarves of Feyhome in the Dwarfreach Mountains tell a tale of a forge that burns brighter than any other. In the days following i Channad, which they call Tûl Barag-Golodh ("The Hammering of the Great Destruction"), their ancestral mines shook with tremors as the earth itself rebelled. They speak of a great chasm that opened beneath their deepest mine, from which erupted waves of molten rock and magical energy, forever altering their homeland. The dwarves claim that this chasm was not a natural creation but rather a wound in the earth caused by the Shattering.

Despite the destruction, the dwarves of Feyhome did not falter. They built bridges over the chasm and mined its new veins of magical ore, forging weapons and tools of incredible power. According to legend, their greatest smith, Balgrim Stonebeard, used this magic-infused ore to create the "Anvil of Worlds," a tool that could shape reality itself. However, it is said that Balgrim vanished soon after, and the Anvil was lost, leaving only echoes of his work.

The Deep Elves of the North

In the cold, shadowy depths of the northern forest, the Deep Elves dwell in splendid isolation. They see themselves as superior to all other beings and remained aloof during the Shattering. Yet even they could not escape its consequences. The Deep Elves tell of the Morrinor, an ancient order of sorcerers who sought to harness the chaotic magic unleashed by i Channad for their own gain. They believed that the Shattering was not a calamity but an opportunity to ascend to godhood.

It is said that the Morrinor succeeded, though at a terrible cost. They created a rift within their own homeland, a tear between the Feywild and a realm of pure shadow. The sorcerers vanished, consumed by the dark power they sought to control, and the rift became a permanent scar upon the land. To this day, the Deep Elves guard this rift, though few dare to approach it, for fear of being swallowed by its darkness.

The Mountain Giants of Gipfel

Our nearest neighbors, the mountain giants of Gipfel, bore witness to the Shattering in their own way. The giants tell of a time when the very mountains trembled as the worlds collided. Creatures from the Shadowfell spilled into their lands, and though the giants were mighty, they struggled against these invaders.

The mountain giants of Gipfel speak of the i Channad as Grondkrennar, The Earth-Cracking.  It was the moment when the earth itself was torn apart. To them, this event was less about magic and more about the physical upheaval that reshaped their mountains and threatened their way of life.

According to their legends, their chieftain, Vraxx the Stonehand, brokered a pact with the Neheuol Elves to hold the line against these incursions. The giants erected great stone fortresses, which still stand today, as a bulwark against the forces of the Shadowfell. Though their lands were ravaged, the mountain giants emerged victorious, their strength and endurance a testament to their resilience.

The Fire Giants of Feuer

The Fire Giants of the Angry Mountains, known for their unyielding strength and mastery of the forge, have their own tale of i Channad, which they call Hadhodnar Narn—meaning "The Flame's Judgment" in their ancient, guttural tongue. This legend, passed down through generations of giant blacksmiths, tells of a trial by fire, a test of both their physical endurance and the very metal of their souls, and it shaped the destiny of the Fire Giant clans forever.

Over a thousand years ago, when the Hadhodnar Nar raged and tore the boundaries between worlds asunder, the Fire Giants of the Angry Mountains were deep within the heart of their domain—an enormous network of caverns beneath Mt. Raiva, where molten rivers flowed and where their forges burned hot day and night. At that time, they were unrivaled blacksmiths, creating magical weapons and armor that even the gods coveted. Their work fueled their pride, and many believed that the Fire Giants were untouchable, their dominion over flame and iron secure for eternity.

However, the eruption of the Hadhodnar Nar challenged everything they knew.

The giants tell of a day when the earth itself groaned, and the peak of Mt. Raiva split open with a deafening roar. From deep within the bowels of the world, a rift appeared—a tear in reality through which fire and magic, alien and uncontrollable, poured forth. The flames that emerged were not their familiar, obedient forge fires but wild, living things with wills of their own. These new flames danced, twisted, and spread with terrifying speed, consuming everything in their path. They did not burn with red or orange light but with an ethereal, almost unbearable brightness—golden flames that seemed to devour not only the physical but also the very essence of things.

The Fire Giants, accustomed to the heat and power of their forges, found themselves suddenly faced with a blaze that resisted their command. This was no ordinary fire. To the giants, these golden flames were "Melnor's Wrath", believed to be the judgment of Melnor, their ancient god of fire and the forge, come to test them. They feared that they had grown too proud, too arrogant in their mastery of the elements, and that Melnor had sent this purifying fire to burn away their impurities and humble them.

As the golden flames ravaged the mountain, the giants retreated into their great halls, where their forges and anvils lay cold and silent for the first time in centuries. The fires of the Hadhodnar Nar were beyond their control, and they realized that this was not a foe they could fight with their usual strength or weapons. Instead, it was a battle of will, a test of endurance and survival.

The legend tells of Fjornak Flamecaller, the greatest of the Fire Giant smiths, who stood before the golden flames and did not run. He called upon the power of Melnor, begging his god for guidance. In response, the flames seemed to speak to him, whispering through the crackling heat. They told Fjornak that the Fire Giants must embrace the flames, not flee from them. Only by proving their worth through pain and trial could they reclaim their mastery of fire.

Fjornak and his apprentices stepped into the golden inferno, letting the flames sear their skin and burn their very bones. For days, the giants endured the unimaginable heat, their bodies blackening and their souls burning. Many perished, consumed by the unrelenting blaze. But those who survived, those who endured the Flame’s Judgment, emerged from the fire transformed.

The survivors of Hadhodnar Narn became known as the Azerarn, or "Golden-Souled" giants. Their once-red skin took on a faint golden hue, and their eyes glowed like molten metal. These giants were forever changed. They had mastered not just the physical fire, but the very essence of flame itself—its life-giving and destructive powers. The Azerarn could summon and control magical golden flames, far more potent than any they had wielded before. These flames, though wild, bent to their will and became a part of their essence.

From that day forward, the Fire Giants viewed the Hadhodnar Nar as both a curse and a blessing. They had been tested by their god and had proven themselves worthy, though at great cost. Their society was forever changed, divided between those who had survived the Flame’s Judgment and those who had not. The Azerarn took their place as the elite, the highest of their kind, and their golden flames became a symbol of both their suffering and their triumph.

After i Channad, the Fire Giants became even more protective of their forges and their mastery over flame. They saw themselves as the Guardians of Fire, not just in the Angry Mountains but in all the realms. Their reverence for fire deepened, and they built massive temples to Melnor in the heart of Mt. Raiva, where they continue to forge the most powerful weapons and magical artifacts.

They also became the guardians of the rift left by the Hadhodnar Nar. Though the rift has since closed, they believe it is their duty to watch over it, fearing that one day the golden flames may return to test them again.

The legend of Hadhodnar Narn is retold in every Fire Giant clan, not just as a story of survival but as a reminder that power comes at a cost. To the giants, fire is not simply a tool but a living force, one that can consume or create, depending on how it is wielded. The Hadhodnar Nar was their Flame’s Judgment, and they wear the scars—and the golden hue—with pride.

Even now, almost seven hundred years later, the Fire Giants of the Angry Mountains speak of Melnor’s Wrath, always prepared for the day when the flames might test them once more.

The Faerie Courts

The Summer Court and the Gloomspring Court have always been locked in a delicate balance, but the Shattering tested their unity as never before. The Summer Court, ever lawful and just, sought to repair the rifts that tore through the Feywild. Queen Titania herself is said to have led an army of faeries to close one of the largest rifts, using her own magic to seal it.

Meanwhile, the Gloomspring Court thrived in the chaos. The chaotic nature of the Shattering appealed to the darker side of the Fey, and they used the opportunity to grow their influence. Rumor has it that Baba Yaga, the hag of the Swamp of Ineffable Gloom, was one of their greatest champions, though none can say for certain.

The Summer Court Faeries refer to the event as Ymestyniad yr Tymhorau, which translates to "The Sundering of the Seasons." This reflects their belief that the natural balance of the Feywild’s seasons was shattered during i Channad.

The Summer Court refers to i Channad as the Sundering of the Seasons, seeing it as a moment when the natural harmony of the Feywild was thrown into disarray. Their eternal cycle of seasons was fractured, and with it, the balance of life and magic in the realm.

The Gloomspring Court Faeries call it Yr Uffern Fawr, meaning "The Great Murk." This name captures their view of the event as a deepening of the shadows and the spreading of darkness throughout the Feywild, which they embrace as an opportunity for their chaotic nature.

For the Gloomspring Court, i Channad is known simply as the Great Murk. To them, it was an event that allowed darkness and chaos to flourish, clouding the boundaries between realms and spreading shadow, which they consider to be an opportunity rather than a calamity.

The Halflings of the Northern Fens

The halflings of the northern fens tell a somber tale about the i Channad, or as they call it, Tanglebright’s Tear. To them, this cataclysmic event was not a blessing, but a time of deep sorrow, marking the end of their idyllic and peaceful existence. The halflings view this event through a lens of mourning, a wound in the world that forever altered their lives and the Feywild itself.

According to halfling legend, long before the Tanglebright’s Tear, there was a great guardian of the fens, a being named Tanglebright. Tanglebright was a mystical creature, half-spirit, half-water nymph, who lived in the deepest, stillest parts of the northern fens. She was said to be the embodiment of the wetlands themselves—her hair woven from reeds, her eyes like the clear pools of the fens, and her voice a gentle whisper on the wind. She protected the halflings and kept the land fertile, the waters clean, and the skies clear of threats. Under her care, the halflings lived in harmony with nature, untouched by the greater conflicts of the Feywild.

But with the onset of the Tanglebright’s Tear, the delicate balance of the Feywild shattered, and the halflings' world was torn apart. The magical plague that swept through the Feywild, known as Imladris to the elves, began to poison the waters of the fens. Foul creatures, twisted by dark energies, emerged from the Shadowfell and began to stalk the wetlands. The once tranquil lands became rife with danger, and the halflings found themselves ill-prepared to defend their homes.

It is said that Tanglebright herself felt the pain of the Feywild’s destruction. As the magical energies coursed through the land, warping it and allowing monstrosities to enter from the Shadowfell, Tanglebright wept. Her tears, filled with the sorrow of the Feywild’s corruption, fell into the waters of the fens, giving rise to what the halflings now call Tanglebright’s Tear—a bitter reminder of the day their protector could no longer keep the chaos at bay.

Halfling lore tells that in the wake of the Tanglebright’s Tear, their land was invaded by creatures they had never known. Dark wraiths, swamp-dwelling monstrosities, and twisted versions of the animals they once knew began to roam the fens. Even the waters, once clean and life-giving, became tainted by strange and malevolent magic. Halfling shamans, known as Fenwatchers, who could once easily commune with nature, found their magic weakened and erratic.

One of the most feared stories is that of The Black Fen, a region deep within their homeland that became permanently corrupted. Here, the once-friendly marsh beasts turned savage, and strange, eldritch fogs rolled over the land, swallowing entire villages. Even today, no halfling dares to venture there, as it is said to be a cursed place where the tears of Tanglebright still flow.

The halflings believe that on nights when the moon is high and the fens are still, you can hear Tanglebright’s voice in the wind, singing a lament for the Feywild’s lost beauty. It is a song of mourning, a remembrance of what once was. Some halfling shamans claim that her spirit still resides in the deepest part of the fens, in a hidden place where the land is still untouched by the Shadowfell’s corruption. They believe that, if found, Tanglebright could help restore some of the land’s purity, but the path to her sanctuary is long lost to history.

In halfling culture, Tanglebright’s Tear has become a symbol of loss and resilience. Every year, they hold a festival in remembrance of the day their protector wept for the Feywild. During this festival, halflings gather by the water’s edge, lighting small reed boats with candles and sending them out onto the fens, a tribute to the tears of Tanglebright and a promise to never forget their fallen guardian.

Though the halflings have managed to rebuild their lives in the fens, they still bear the scars of Tanglebright’s Tear. They are more cautious, more attuned to the dangers that lurk in the shadows of the Feywild. Their folklore is filled with stories of strange creatures and haunted places that emerged from that dark time, and the halflings remain ever-vigilant, knowing that the veil between the Feywild and the Shadowfell is still thin in their lands.

The Current Age

The denizens of the Feywild naming the current age the "Year of the Golden Sun" stems from a powerful and mystical phenomenon that occurred during i Channad. This event, though catastrophic in many ways, was marked by a singular and awe-inspiring occurrence that etched itself into the collective memory of the Feywild. Here is the legendary reason behind the naming.

At the climax of i Channad, when the barriers between the planes—Earth, the Feywild, and the Shadowfell—were torn asunder, the sky above the Feywild shifted in dramatic ways. The chaos brought on by the rending of the planes sent ripples through the very fabric of time, space, and magic. Amidst the waves of magical energy flooding through the Feywild, one striking event captured the attention of every sentient being.

For a brief period, the Feywild’s sky was dominated by a glowing, golden sun that shone brighter than anything seen in the realm before. This golden sun wasn’t the natural star that typically graced the Feywild’s skies; it was something else entirely, an arcane manifestation. The golden radiance was warm yet alien, unlike the usual colors of the Feywild's vibrant nature. Its light felt both life-giving and otherworldly, and many of the Fey inhabitants felt its influence deeply.

For some, this light was rejuvenating, washing over the land and imbuing the trees, rivers, and plants with newfound vitality. Magic itself became supercharged for a time, and it felt as though the Feywild was on the verge of some transcendent rebirth. However, for others—especially the darker, more twisted creatures and beings—the golden light was unbearable, burning away shadowy forces and driving monstrous entities into hiding or insanity. The extremes of its effects further divided the Fey courts, with some welcoming the golden light as a blessing, and others cursing it as a herald of destruction.

The golden sun was said to be the visible manifestation of the massive rift between the planes. Many in the Feywild believed it was a literal tear in the fabric of the planes, through which light from some higher realm poured through. Legends speak of a figure—whether a god, a spirit of the sun, or an ancient being of light—trying to mend the veil and halt the invasion of magical forces, but that this being's efforts only partially succeeded, leaving the tear open long enough for the chaos to spill over. Some claimed to have seen a "hand of light" reaching through the tear, its golden rays flickering across the lands for days.

Even after i Channad subsided and the planes stabilized, a lingering golden hue remained in the sky at sunrise and sunset for centuries. While the "Golden Sun" eventually faded, its memory endured, and the Feywild’s denizens came to mark the passage of time from that moment. The Year of the Golden Sun was thus a tribute to that brief era where everything changed—when the sun itself seemed to blaze with impossible power, and the Feywild teetered on the edge of something entirely new.

Many Fey creatures, particularly those aligned with the Summer Court, saw the Golden Sun as a symbol of hope and renewal. They believed the light burned away the darkness of the Shadowfell, purging evil and corruption from their lands. The Year of the Golden Sun became a way to honor the dawn of a new era, where the Feywild’s resilience allowed it to endure even the most cataclysmic changes.

In contrast, darker Fey like the Gloomspring Court view the Golden Sun as an omen of the Feywild’s eventual decline, a moment when their realm’s delicate balance was irrevocably altered. To them, the name is ironic, as it signifies not light but the intrusion of a foreign power, upsetting the natural cycles and introducing new enemies and dangers from beyond.

Though the Golden Sun disappeared, it left strange and permanent magical aftereffects across the Feywild.

Some areas of the Feywild remain suffused with a faint golden glow. These places are highly magical, often wild and unpredictable. Rituals performed there are more powerful, and creatures born or living there may possess unusual or enhanced magical abilities.

Fey creatures exposed to the Golden Sun for extended periods were forever changed. Some became radiant beings with golden eyes or skin, blessed with the ability to manipulate light and life-giving magic. These Fey are highly revered and often sought out for counsel.

In contrast, those who hid from the golden rays during i Channad found that their own powers were warped. These creatures became more closely tied to the Shadowfell, their abilities steeped in death and shadow. The Neheuol Elves, as military guardians of the Feywild, saw this duality manifest in their tactics and magic, enhancing their role as protectors against threats from both light and shadow.

Hence, the Year of the Golden Sun became the official Feywild reckoning, with its name a reminder of both the destruction and rebirth brought by i Channad —a sun that shattered reality but also illuminated a path forward in the chaos that followed.

Thus do the tales of i Channad live on in the memories of the Feywild. We Neheuol Elves remember it as a time of trial and loss, but also of strength and unity. And though the rifts have closed, the scars remain, a reminder that the worlds are never as separate as we would wish them to be.

Elduin Shaphine, Scribe of the Neheuol Elves