[Important: read this before you continue, this side chapter has a very heavy lore flavor and will not affect the Sacrifice for now its just a chapter of a man on a mountain telling a long story to a kid]
At the edge of Yan's high mountains, where stone met cloud, and the wind carried prayers older than language, a single table stood carved from black rock.
Two figures sat across from one another.
One was a man crowned by a faint halo—neither radiant nor imposing, but steady, as though light itself had decided to rest upon him. His hands were calloused, his posture relaxed, his presence quiet in a way that made the mountain feel less empty.
The other was young.
A Wendigo child, still too small for his horns to have fully grown, wrapped in thick furs and listening with the seriousness only the young could muster when they knew something important was coming.
They ate in silence for a while.
Steam rose from simple food. The mountain watched.
At last, the haloed man set his bowl aside.
[Haloed Man]: Grrovae'zzeal… are you ready to hear a long story?
The boy straightened immediately, back rigid, eyes bright.
[Grrovae'zzeal]: Yes, teacher.
The man smiled—not kindly, not cruelly.
Patiently.
[Haloed Man]: Good. Then listen carefully.
The wind grew still.
[Haloed Man]: This is the story of where we came from… and why some of us were never meant to stay.
He opened the book.
Its pages were old—too old for ink to remember who first laid it down.
The man traced a finger along the opening lines and began to read.
[Haloed Man]: We begin with the First Kazdel Era—the Age of the Farchaser.
He paused, letting the name settle.
[Haloed Man]: According to Sarkaz oral tradition, Kazdel did not begin as a kingdom, nor even as a people… but as a consequence.
He turned the page.
[Haloed Man]: The ancestors of the Sarkaz—known then as the Teekaz—were the earliest race to walk Terra. Before language, before cities, before history itself, they were animal-like beings shaped by instinct and necessity. Their behaviors were later described by non-Teekaz peoples as grotesque, but to the Teekaz, they were simply how one survived.
The mountain wind stirred.
[Haloed Man]: In those ages, the Teekaz had no kings, no elders, no names worth keeping. They lived as hunter-gatherer tribes and obeyed only hunger, fear, and the coming of night.
He read on.
[Haloed Man]: By day, they entered the Silver Mountains, descending beneath the earth to hunt what prey they could and gather water where it seeped from stone. By dusk, they returned—always before the light faded—for once darkness fell, the mountains became hunting grounds for beings known only as the Exposed Metal and the Unseen Metal.
He closed the book briefly.
Silence stretched.
Then—
[Haloed Man]: Those who saw them and lived never described them the same way twice.
He reopened the book.
[Haloed Man]: During one year of great famine, when prey vanished,d and desperation hollowed the tribes, a single Teekaz chose to act against custom.
The boy leaned in without realizing.
[Haloed Man]: Instead of hunting his own kind—as was expected when scarcity demanded sacrifice—he hunted for them.
The words hung heavy.
[Haloed Man]: To many, this was a crime. Compassion was believed to weaken the tribe. Kindness, they said, invited extinction.
The page turned.
[Haloed Man]: The tribe convened and passed judgment. The Teekaz was to be banished into the depths of the Silver Mountains—never to return. His exile was meant as both punishment and warning.
A quiet breath.
[Haloed Man]: Most believed he would not survive.
He did.
[Haloed Man]: After three thousand days, when light finally reached beneath the Silver Mountains, the exile emerged… changed.
The haloed man lifted his eyes from the page.
[Haloed Man]: He was no longer Teekaz.
He returned to the text.
[Haloed Man]: He had become human.
The wind stilled completely.
[Haloed Man]: With him, he carried two relics. The first Originium—and the Black Crown.
The boy swallowed.
[Haloed Man]: Through these relics, many Teekaz were reshaped into the image of man. With form came thought. With thought came language. And with language… came civilization.
The page trembled slightly as it turned.
[Haloed Man]: They named themselves Teekaz—"those who own a home."
[Haloed Man]: And they named their first city Kazdel—"where home is."
He closed the book with finality.
[Haloed Man]: Because of his transformation, the exile was crowned the Farchaser.
A pause.
[Haloed Man]: The first King of Sarkaz. And the first to leave something behind, that would never stop chasing them.
He closed his eyes and opened them with sadness.
[Haloed Man]: The coronation of the King of Teekaz marked the true dawn of Teekaz civilization.
He turned the page.
[Haloed Man]: Under the Farchaser's rule, the scattered tribes were unified for the first time. Fortresses and stone keeps were raised to anchor wandering peoples, becoming the earliest permanent settlements. From these strongholds, the Teekaz began their ascent—from survival to society.
His voice remained steady.
[Haloed Man]: It was during this era that the first city-state, Kazdel, was founded upon the slopes of the Silver Mountains themselves. There, the Teekaz spoke their first true language—not merely to one another, but to the land—to pacify the rampaging souls that stirred beneath the mountains' skin.
A brief pause.
[Haloed Man]: In the beginning, the Farchaser urged his people onward. He believed the mountains could be conquered, their depths claimed.
His fingers tightened on the page.
[Haloed Man]: But campaign after campaign ended in failure. Entire warbands vanished. Strongholds collapsed without battle. And the voices beneath the mountains grew louder.
He continued more quietly.
[Haloed Man]: At last, the Farchaser forbade any further descent. He feared that the Teekaz tongue—newborn and fragile—could not pacify every soul buried below. To press further, he believed, would invite calamity beyond repair.
The book rustled.
[Haloed Man]: For millennia, his decree was obeyed. The Teekaz guarded the Silver Mountains with vigilance, even as their civilization flourished elsewhere. Settlements expanded, knowledge spread between tribes, and the Teekaz entered what later generations would remember as an age of growth.
Then—
His tone changed.
Lower. Slower.
Older.
[Haloed Man]: And as one age reached its height… another began.
He did not look at the boy when he read the next lines.
[Haloed Man]: The overlords of the herd swallowed the stolen sunlight. Our futile fury was washed away into ash.
The wind carried the words down the mountainside.
[Haloed Man]: These were the Ancient Wars.
He lifted his eyes briefly.
[Haloed Man]: Spanning approximately 9,000 to 8,000 BCE, the Ancient Wars marked the end of the First Kazdel Era.
The book trembled slightly in his hands.
[Haloed Man]: Much about this age remains disputed. Records are fragmented. Testimonies contradict one another. Yet all surviving accounts agree on one truth—
He turned the page.
[Haloed Man]: The wars were not born of conquest or ideology, but of survival. A chain of relentless conflicts that gradually drove countless Teekaz tribes into extinction.
His voice hardened.
[Haloed Man]: Teekaz psalms describe the sudden descent of ten Elder Hegemons, beings of unnatural power who stole the sunlight itself. Against them, the Teekaz were unprepared.
A pause.
[Haloed Man]: Many tribes did not even realize a war had begun.
He read on.
[Haloed Man]: The Hegemons enslaved vast numbers of Teekaz, forcing reproduction for purposes unknown. These captives—and their descendants—would later become the ancestors of the modern Ancients.
Silence followed.
[Haloed Man]: Outmatched in weaponry, culture, and understanding, entire Teekaz populations were isolated and destroyed before they could unite. By the time the truth reached them, they were already outnumbered by invaders from above.
The page turned one final time.
[Haloed Man]: As the Elders and their Ancients continued their conquest, the Farchaser searched for any means of retaliation—no matter the cost.
He exhaled slowly.
[Haloed Man]: With no paths left unsealed, he broke his own decree and permitted his people to descend once more into the Silver Mountains.
The fire cracked.
[Haloed Man]: There, in the depths he had once forbidden, the Teekaz unearthed relics older than their language—remnants that awakened the first Originium Arts in Terran history. In later ages, these practices would be feared and misnamed as Sarkaz Witchcraft.
His finger traced a line of text.
[Haloed Man]: The first witchcraft altar allowed the Teekaz to stand against the Elders' armies. For the first time, the scattered tribes could wound what had once seemed invincible.
A pause.
[Haloed Man]: But power is never unseen.
He continued.
[Haloed Man]: The Elder Hegemons coveted this newfound force. Their campaigns grew more ruthless, their pursuit more absolute. What little balance the Teekaz had gained only hastened their destruction.
The wind pressed against the walls.
[Haloed Man]: And so, the Farchaser turned to his final resort.
His voice lowered.
[Haloed Man]: The summoning of the Amnannam—the first Catastrophe to ever scar Terra.
Silence lingered.
[Haloed Man]: By then, Teekaz civilization had been reduced to a single city-state. Kazdel, surrounded, broken, yet unyielding.
He turned the page carefully.
[Haloed Man]: The Elder Hegemons, confident in their victory, chose an uncharacteristic mercy. They ordered Kazdel to surrender and dispatched a sage as their emissary—to persuade, not threaten.
A faint bitterness entered his tone.
[Haloed Man]: The Farchaser refused.
He spared the sage.
[Haloed Man]: Instead, he commanded the emissary to lead his people eastward—away from Kazdel—before the third strike of the war drums.
The boy remained silent.
[Haloed Man]: When the message reached the Elders' armies, they advanced at once.
He did not look up.
[Haloed Man]: And the Farchaser answered them by calling down the Amnannam.
The fire dimmed.
[Haloed Man]: The sky blackened. Vast Originium shards tore from the heavens and embedded themselves into the earth. Cities shattered. Armies vanished. The land itself screamed.
His hand trembled—just slightly.
[Haloed Man]: Elders and Teekaz alike were consumed. Yet death was not the only legacy of the Catastrophe.
He closed his eyes.
[Haloed Man]: The Amnannam brought Oripathy into the world.
A long breath.
[Haloed Man]: This would later be remembered as the Original Sin of the Teekaz.
He continued, voice steady but hollow.
[Haloed Man]: The Farchaser and his most loyal followers willingly offered their blood to complete the summoning. They vanished amid the Catastrophe—presumed dead, alongside the besieging Hegemons.
The page rustled.
[Haloed Man]: The Black Crown was lost during this time. Its fate remains unknown.
He closed the book at last.
[Haloed Man]: The aftermath of the Amnannam endured for generations. The skies remained darkened so long that only the descendants of the survivors would live to see sunlight again.
Silence fell between them as the man closed the book and looked at the edge of the mountain.
[Haloed Man]: That is it for today, little one. Now go and train more on your moves with a spear are getting slower.
[chapter end]