35. A LOST PARADISE

The four-day journey had been hard, but Nyomae had enjoyed the break from her trials of late and the opportunity to be alone. She arrived at Telamir just as the sun had begun its descent towards the Kolossos Mountains. The tower never failed to fill her with wonder, and now she knew more of its history, her awe for the structure grew.

Nyomae jumped. Night had fallen about her. It seemed the moon had replaced the sun in a mere blink of an eye. She looked back to the tower. Its dark surface reflected a full moon, but it was a crescent that graced the night sky. Yet the lake remained dark, showing no desire to allow the world to gaze upon its likeness. Nyomae watched perplexed as the moon in the sky switched places with its reflection on the tower. The land around her grew lighter. The lake glistened, appearing to approve of the exchange and thus allowed the bright moonbeams to settle on its still waters.

The moon in the lake moved, sending silent ripples towards the shore. The water lapped at Nyomae’s feet. She smiled to herself. Even now, a millennium after their fall, the Elorym magic remained. Or… was it the Nym? Regardless, she had to find a way into the tower. According to Draegelan’s notes, he had hoped the Nym of the water would grant him permission to cross the forbidden lake. But those were his last lines, and he had written nothing of his experience following his departure from Abernost.

Nyomae followed the path of the bright disk on the lake. As it drew near, it faded, transforming into a dark circle of a new moon. It paused a few feet from the edge. The ripples sat motionless as if suspended in time. The Nym had come. And they waited. Nyomae understood. She closed her eyes and brought her palms together. She sought the skylark. At first, it sang its song known throughout the warmer climes of the realms, but, at Nyomae’s request, it tilted its head and sang anew. The disk on the lake glowed and came to the shore. She stepped upon its bright surface. Her body tingled as its power flowed through her. Gently, it glided across the lake but left no wake. Whispers filled the air, but whether they offered encouragement or urged caution, Nyomae could not tell. Ahead, the dark tower had gone. In its place, a slender, silvery spire rose from the lake, spiraling to an even greater height. Her eyes were drawn to its pinnacle, rising above the neighboring peaks of the Kolososs to touch the stars twinkling on the great dome.

Nyomae’s feet touched solid ground. Instantly, she knew she was the first mortal to step on the island since Draegelan. But the Nym cared little for the passing centuries and her predecessor’s visit would still be fresh in their collective mind. And, as with Draegelan, Nyomae understood her presence would be tolerated for only a short time.

She glanced to her feet. A path led to the tower’s base, but then spiraled out of sight as it wound its way behind. With no door or gateway visible, Nyomae followed the path. As she walked, night became day, then the day became night once more. She gazed upon her reflection in the tower’s wall. Nyomae watched herself as a curious young girl, then as her time as Hope, before changing to reveal her in the present. But still no doorway appeared. Her reflection changed once more. Now she looked older. Long, gray hair flowed down to her midriff. Her eyes shone from a face lined by centuries of strife, yet she walked tall, unbowed by her struggles. The image changed. A blind woman, bent double, limped with her hands groping the air as she walked alone through a land spoiled by war and disease. The tower showed her two fates. Before long, she would come to a fork in the road. One would lead to victory, the other to a crushing defeat. But the path to take would not be obvious. Both would be dangerous, and the choice difficult.

The vision faded. Nyomae stood before a small door. She pushed and entered the Lake Tower of Telamir.

◆◆◆

A chill breeze numbed her face. Despite the dark, Nyomae knew she stood between the twin spiraling pinnacles of Telamir. Of her ascent, she had no recollection, but she understood another had led her to the top. Her guide had gone. She was alone but felt the presence of others who had once stood in her place.

The sky grew lighter. The sun rose to reveal a world far below. But not the world she knew. Nyomae looked upon the land as the Maidens’ first Verse still echoed across the sky. The rolling hills of the middle lands, yet to be divided by the mighty Kolossos mountains, teemed with joyful, new life. Deep, blue lakes and flowing rivers glistened under the light of the young sun.

But as the Maidens rested to admire their creation, the land shifted. The ground throbbed as if the beating of a malevolent heart pumped its poisoned blood through the rivers and seas. The sky turned black. Nyomae shrank back as she beheld the coming of the evil from the depths of the world. She watched in despair as the Maidens were deceived, falling under the spell of an evil mind they could not comprehend. The world dulled, losing its splendor as seasons of cold and darkness lengthened to strangle the life nurtured by the sun. The ground shuddered as the peaks burst from the ground as the gods returned to entomb the Evil One.

Fearful their corruption would sully their Song, the Maidens chose to exile themselves far to the north. Centuries passed as they struggled to recover their voices. But recover they did. From the chasms deep beneath the ice, they composed new Verses to heal the world. Nyomae saw the Elorym emerge. Within decades, their fine cities and magnificent towers, flourished like trees to enhance the Maidens’ creation. The grim fortress of Vortimo had yet to be built. In its place stood three spires taller than the neighboring peaks, glistening in the dawn sun as if upturned icicles.

Yet the weakened Maidens could not rid the world of the Evil One’s servants. And one had grown strong, and unbeknown to them, drained their strength. He became known as Ormoroth in the common tongue and would rise to challenge the might of the Elorym.

Nyomae’s gaze wandered to the east. The land extended far beyond where Karrock, Saphrir and Ephrim now perched on the coast. More cities and towers had stood on fertile plains before the land was broken by the terrible wars with Ormoroth, and all now lay at the bottom of the deep Karajan Sea.

Voices sang. They guided Nyomae through the Verses as the Elorym succumbed to Ormoroth, and all but two of their towers crumbled. The voices led her to Aber’s Verse and to the hidden meaning of the last line, divulged to Draegelan centuries before. Nyomae gasped as the Maidens’ Cypher was solved before her eyes.

Draegelan had not lost his mind. It had been opened. He had been offered the means to defeat Ormoroth — or hand their enemy a victory from which there would be no recovery. He too had seen the bountiful land, untainted by the evil that followed. The Elorym had done a great deal to heal the hurt, reviving much that had been ruined. But the loss of the elder race was a bitter blow. Those coming to the land after their demise, had known only a withered, fading world, condemned to live in the shadow of the great wrong.

Now Nyomae understood Draegelan’s mind. In the late stages of his life, he had found it difficult to return to the mortal world after seeing the true glory of the Maidens’ creation. He had clung to those visions, and it was only in the last throes of his long life, he had recovered his memory to leave his message in the rhyme. But it was not the vision of the lost paradise that had driven Draegelan to despair. It was the secret revealed to him. It was both a blessing and a curse, presenting him with an impossible choice. And now Nyomae would soon face the same dilemma.