The Sin-Stained Earth

"Only when every tear, every drop of shed blood, has returned to the soil, will this land finally be cleansed."

There have been many brutal battles that, thanks to song and legend and propaganda, are now thought of as grand struggles for glory and honour. The Endwar, for instance, is often framed as a heroic war between the lowly, corrupted Endsworn and the shining, united armies of all free peoples - even though the reality of that strife is... far less inspiring.

But Kaosuli is different. Here, an Exalted ascended. Here, a Wolflord shed tears. Here, the blood-red rain never ceases falling.

Because some tragedies should not be forgotten.

The Price of Blood

"The sins of mortals are many. That place is simply where they were most concentrated."

— Chassoth, Zefirua philosopher

In the days before the Endwar, there were two dominant nations in Wyral: Arwifal, the grand nation of the ikayal; and Cirhin, a seafaring empire based on the eastern continent. While the former had begun to slide into decline, Cirhin's influence was only increasing. It wrested control of the oceans even from the sea-loving emikun - and then offered them prosperity through alliance. The nation was called the "mother of all lands", because of just how many people and goods passed through its ports.

What could have caused such a prosperous empire to fall within a single decade? Some say it was a power vacuum, others say it was a plague attack, and still more blame a bad year of storms.

Perhaps it was all three.

The mercantile guilds that ruled over the coastal cities turned on each other. Commoners fled across the sea, or were drafted into the army of whatever guild they owed allegiance. Mercenaries were hired, and war machinations were plotted.

The final outcome was a continent's worth of armies pitted against each other.

All sides believed it would be a decisive - or even a pyrrhic - victory.

How wrong they were.

The Tears of Heaven

"The sound of rain is a constant for those blessed by Her gaze. But in winter's embrace, I find a momentary peace."

— Axhal, the Silver Otter

Before, they spoke of the battle as destined, or necessary, or glorious.

After, they called it the Zhal Kaoran.

An onslaught of soldiers raced to their deaths. Armies broke, fled, and were routed. Weapons and castings tore into the bloodstained earth. All for control of a nation on its deathbed.

Here, again, stories differ. Some say it was the gaze of Imber that brought an end to the conflict - a sweeping blizzard that descended from the heavens. Others believe that there was only one survivor left when the High Wolflord turned Her eyes onto the land.

But then the rain began. Its crystal-clear water soon turned to blood, and its steady drum became nothing more than the soft sound of weeping.

The Curse of Remembrance

"Water returns to the sea. We return to the soil. Perhaps emotions work in a similar way."

— ??

Kaosuli has been locked in this nightmare ever since Imber gazed upon it. The sky has never cleared, and the land has never known release.

It is, at least, easy to avoid. Travellers can see the crimson-hued cloud from miles away, and the scent of iron warns away both people and animals. More than that, the surrounding lands are blighted with a strange, unmelting frost. The signs are impossible to miss.

A few foolhardy adventurers have dared to pass into the stormfront. Those who return report that the ground is permanently frosted over - preserving weapons, bodies and the soil alike. This is likely the work of the Silver Otter, Axhal, who became a demigod during or after the Zhal Kaoran.

But they also say that the rain speaks. Or, more accurately, that it screams.

Every raindrop carries a sound: crying, shouting or groaning, and everything in between. It is unnoticeable at first, then impossible to ignore, and finally overwhelming. Some people have been drawn in by the sounds, and simply never returned.

The sounds defy explanation. Is it a memory, a tribute to the fallen? Then it would fall under Aspira's demesne of air and time. Is it the song of lingering souls? That would require Lyra's intervention. Perhaps the Wolflords are less strictly-defined than we know, or perhaps this is just an aspect of Imber that we do not fully understand.

But we do not need to comprehend the mechanisms to understand the message.

A battle like this - spurred on by greed, waged to win ashes, and decimating populations - must never happen again.

Some tragedies must not be forgotten.

"I... I dreamed that it was raining."

— ??