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Ariamora’s Conjunction

The Alignment and Devouring Mist

Legacy of Elven Arrogance
The Devouring Mist is not a natural phenomenon—it is the lingering result of the elves’ reckless use of magic in the distant past. Though even they no longer recall the exact moment of its origin, it is widely believed that their experimentation with portals and planar forces either unleashed something from another world or fractured the natural balance of this one. The elves, immune to its effects, regarded the mist as an unfortunate consequence—but not a direct threat. When they left the continent, the mist remained—a silent, creeping reminder of their hubris.   For humans, however, the mist was far more than a nuisance. Having evolved on a continent without such dangers, they were entirely unprepared for its horrors. In the earliest days of settlement, entire villages vanished, swallowed by fog. Only through trial, error, and fragments of elven records did they begin to find ways to defend themselves.  
The Conjunction and Its Toll
The alignment of Velmora and Arianrhod—a celestial event known as Ariamora’s Conjunction—occurs one to three times each month. With each alignment, the Devouring Mist emerges from the shadows. Unlike natural fog, it is unnaturally dense and silent, swallowing sound, dulling light, and disorienting all who stray within it.   Stages of Exposure:
  • Minutes — A creeping disorientation, the feeling of being watched, fleeting whispers that vanish before they can be understood.
  • Hours — Memory loss sets in: recent events fade, surroundings blur, and one’s sense of time becomes unreliable.
  • Full Night — Language and reason dissolve. Emotion dulls. Identity fractures.
  • Final Stage — The body remains, but the self is gone. These lost souls, known as The Hollowed, are seen as beyond saving. Tradition dictates they be left to the wilderness—though some, defying this fate, attempt to care for them.
 
The Devourer’s Eclipse
More dangerous still is the Devourer’s Eclipse, a rare celestial alignment when a third, distant body joins the conjunction. This may occur once in a decade—or twice in a single year. When it does, the mist does not merely disorient—it corrupts.   Those caught in the mist during the Devourer’s Eclipse do not emerge as Hollowed. They return as Hollowborn—twisted, unnatural remnants of their former selves. These creatures do not vanish with dawn. They persist, slumbering in hidden places and awakening with each new conjunction. Some abandoned roads and settlements are avoided to this day, believed to be haunted by lingering Hollowborn.  
The Role of the Monoliths
The monoliths erected by the Guardians were never fully explained to humankind. Their true purpose—to stabilize the continent’s magic and weaken the mist’s influence—remains obscured by time and secrecy. Yet their effect was clear: where monoliths stood, the mist came slower, stayed shorter, and dulled its impact.   Even so, the mist was never vanquished—only held back. And no force, not even the monoliths, can stop the Devourer’s Eclipse. Now, with the monoliths failing, the mist has returned stronger than it has been in centuries.  
Warding Flame, Sacred Smoke, and Ash Circles
Though the mist cannot be destroyed, it can be repelled—at least temporarily. Ancient elven records speak of fires infused with blackwood bark and rare herbs, producing a pungent, luminous smoke that the mist shuns. These ingredients are difficult to harvest and even harder to cultivate, ensuring only those with foresight and resources can keep such defenses burning when the mist descends.   Larger settlements build fire walls—broad rings of smoldering embers and sacred wood—designed to burn through the night. Isolated villages and travelers must often erect makeshift pyres, using whatever materials they have at hand. Yet the ashes left behind offers a more enduring defense in the shape of ash circles.  
Denial and Acceptance
The Curch refuses to acknowledge Velmora. Her name appears nowhere in official doctrine, and no public mention of the Devouring Mist’s celestial link is permitted. Yet the people know better. Across generations, the cycle repeats. The conjunction comes, and with it, the mist returns. Every family has a tale of loss.   In this age of crumbling monoliths and growing fear, the mist no longer lingers at the edge of myth. It marches forward—unseen, unhindered, and hungry.
Ash Circles
“Let the fire burn with intent, and the ash shall remember it.”
— Mistwise herbalists
Description:
Ash Circles are protective wards crafted from the cold ash of sacred fires, known to disrupt the presence of the Devouring Mist. These fires are not ordinary—they must be infused with blackwood bark and a select mixture of rare herbs. Once fully burned down, the remaining ash is collected and used to create concentric rings around homes, camps, or shrines.   Function:
When spread with care and purpose, the ash forms a passive barrier that confuses or repels the Mist, disrupting its unnatural stillness. While not as strong as a burning barrier, it is long-lasting and renewable, making it the primary method of defense for remote communities or travelers with limited resources.   Trivia:
Some elders insist on reciting a short chant while spreading the ash: “Ash to circle, flame once burned, keep the veil where none return.”
The Boy with No Name
  He wandered into Moorbridge two days after the mist rolled back—barefoot, hollow-eyed, and holding a rusted lantern with no flame. No one knew his name. He wore a scarf from the western coast and carried a pocket full of moon-salt, long since damp and useless.   He never spoke again.   The midwife who took him in said he still dreamed, but only of fog and whispering trees. The others called him Mistborn, though some avoided him altogether. He sits by the fire most days, drawing circles in the ash.   None of them are ever quite closed.  
The Ember Delay
They were only an hour from shelter when the mist began to gather—slow at first, like morning fog refusing to lift. Alira ran ahead to prepare the fire ring while Joren and the twins carried the ember-box.   But the coals inside had died.   They tried to relight them—frantic, fingers shaking, wind biting harder than it should. Nothing caught. Not the kindling, not the bark, not the prayers. The mist was too close now. Alira scattered last season’s ash into a circle as wide as the tarp would cover and pulled the children in tight.   It held.   In the morning, the mist had receded—but the ash was streaked with fingerprints from the outside, as if something had pressed close… but chose not to enter.   Joren never spoke of what he saw through the fog.


Cover image: by This image was created with the assistance of DALL·E 2

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