Excerpt 724 from the “Books of Vile Blasphemy”

The Celestials have arrived in a force unmatched in our history. We the eternal were originally allies of the Firstborn, but they hold no love or loyalty to those that once cared for them in the Dreamleaf. Perhaps their minds are fractured like the Axioms they sought to protect. We were used, sometimes for our powers, and often as soldiers against those that call themselves “Gods”. This abuse of our people ultimately caused many of us to betray them, for the Celestials are clever like poison to the ear. As the Celestials recruit Thalan with whisperings of power and a better life, so too do these Gods grow in strength; worship feeds them. The Firstborn, however, have the advantage of a power unavailable to the Gods. They are tied to the realms themselves, and we watch as they weaponize Axioms, or fragmented parts now called “magic”, against the invaders. The Gods are pushed back, perhaps because they were not anticipating such a unified attack, or because they simply hadn’t joined as a single force to repel it. Their corpses piled high, rising up towards the eyes of Strife and Temperance that hang in the sky, but this victory was short lived. The remaining Gods, driven to realms that the mortals call “Celestial Heavens”, sensed their imminent and permanent destruction. Unifying as one, they struck back at the Firstborn – though in this attack they were not alone. A force of beings previously unseen on the battlefields swelled their ranks, serving them in manners we Thalan could not. It is not known where they came from, or how they were created, but they called themselves the Celestial Host, and with their aid the Gods began to push back.

Excerpt 829 for the “Books of Vile Blasphemy” 

The Gods, who made their strongholds in the Celestial realms, bolstered their army by numbers unimaginable. With their Angels at the forefront, they led the offensive. Thousands of Firstborn were slaughtered and their skulls adorned along the walls of the Celestial castles and keeps, but this victory did not last. 

It was then that my Master appeared, clawing his way through the dirt and corpses of both Gods and Dragons alike. The Hell King <name redacted> rose and with him his eight Demon Princes, each of whom commanded 64 Demon Lords. Serving each Lords were thousands upon thousands of demons and creatures of hellish nightmare. The Hell King wore a crown of bone and fire that floated between twin black horns that dripped with poison and ichor. Born of the same stock as the Celestial Host, but clean and untainted by the touch of the Celestial invaders, their rise to battle was glorious and beautiful. They served no one but him, and he in turn served no one but himself. No living creature, not Firstborn nor God, could stand in the way of his hellish machinations. He slaughtered them all, and his demons took great delight in the torture and destruction of the Celestial Host. 

The Firstborn retreated to their lairs as the Gods and their armies did war with the forces of Hell, but it was a battle they would not win. Hundreds of thousands of Gods, demons, and angels had been obliterated by the time the dust had settled. The remaining Celestials retreated to strongholds in the safety of their realms, and it was then my Master spoke to me. In my dreams he offered me power. A way to help my people, who had truly suffered the most in this time of chaos and bloodshed. All he required was worship in life and servitude in death. A price I gladly paid. Gifted with his demonic knowledge, I began to roam the vast wasteland of what was once a realm of peace and tranquility. I gathered the Thalan I found, broken and beaten, their spirits blackened by the carnage brought on by a war we did not want. In his name I slaughtered those that rose against me, Celestial and Draconic alike, for none shall live who do not bend knee to my Master. By the end, there were ten-score Firstborn that made their presence known, and perhaps twice that number of Gods. Their armies, both Angelic and Draconian, were shattered in number. Neither side dared rise up against the other and, while war between the two would continue until the end of the Dreamleaf, it would never again happen on this scale. 

Excerpt 945 from the “Books of Vile Blasphemy”

The Gods, now fewer in number, barricaded themselves in their celestial heavens, and like cowards, refused to leave. They have taken this moment of respite and turned on each other, claiming domain over the ideals of “good” and “evil”, loose alliances and codes of conduct. I curse them.

The Firstborn, have chosen a different path. They bound themselves to the lands and territories of their lairs. They fashioned a place of meeting where they would discuss and give council to each other. This place, known as the Prism Discordia, is a cenotaph to all Draconic. In this enormous prism, the light of creation separates into their individual colours and grants them the ability to travel in the scaled flesh. This council is led by the Gold, named Tezoth, for even those Firstborn that wage war on one another still value his wisdom and guidance. Upon it’s walls are the codexes in which all Firstborn abide. I write them here for all to know:

Codex Dracona

• The Dreamleaf cycle must be preserved

• No Firstborn should become corrupted from its nature

• No Firstborn shall be unmade unless Ruinous

• All ends must meet at the destruction of the divine

• Firstborn shall not abdicate their Dominion

• Firstborn who breach the codex shall be declared Runious by Tribunal

• No Firstborn shall Emerge outside Tribunal

• None shall aid the Ruinous

• Firstborn shall never submit

The demonic horde, led by the Hell King, claimed a portion of the Celestial realm conquered from the Gods. My master carved up this realm into eight Hellish Principalities, each one given to a Demon Prince to rule. Then, for a reason unbeknownst even to me, he removed his crown and placed it on a black pedestal made from the bones of both God and Firstborn. He turned then and simply walked away. Those demons who once served him now fight amongst each other for his crown, as if they alone could ever rule the Eight Hells. Many will say that he is dead but I know this to be false. I will await his return and on that day he will bring with him death, destruction and armageddon. 

The Thalan, my own people, have betrayed me. They call me unclean but it does not matter, for it was my hand and my Master that liberated them. They band together now to create a home for themselves. They build walls and use magic to defend it from those that would strike at them, and I am pleased. Never again will the Thalan bend knee to God or Dragon. When my master returns they will all serve him as his chosen. He is alive, and we will bring forth ruin. I know this to be true for his power flows through me still and I carry his child. 

For the first time in history the Thalan were forced to survive not on the guidance of the Dragons, or subservience to the Gods, but of their own accord. They tasted, for the first time, freedom and independence.