Bells sounded across the City of Magic.
Massive arches previously unlit, dormant for months and spattered with blood now illuminated—buzzed. Warehouses in every district once disconnected from their planar supply shacks, destroying production of millions of goods and services flashed with interplanar glee. The remaining citizens stomped down every street in celebration, only concerned with the blissful & normal present.
Galen was alive again!
Yet there were those who saw more. Understood that at this great gain, a cost was paid; one without precedence. A cost where the outcome would be unknown. Even the lowliest beggar of the Den District could toss out a guess similar to the hypotheses of the Dwiergus Council.
Gathered round, they were. Each living, accounted for Archmage of Galen sat, stood, or floated in the Nexus Arcanus of the Dwiergus Sphere, mouths agape. Shimmering before them was Karsigon’s Orrery, a grand, living representation of Eldar’s cosmology (or how most believed it should be modeled).
Ah, it how wonderful it is to be back, flowing with magic once more, Archmage Handil thought. Despite the…circumstances. Nevertheless, we shall persist & solve as we always do.
All was well. Normal. Predictable. Except for the absence of Vapoa, the Elemental Plane of Water.
A pillar of Eldar’s cosmology.
“And the time amount passed since it vanished?” asked Handil. His high elven ears prepared to listen.
“One hour, three minutes, twenty-two seconds. No more, no less.” responded Archmage Venri, her eyes darted to every piece of the orrery.
“But the loss of beloved Vapoa has not impacted any other plane of existence? Only the Material?” Handil pressed.
Venri quickly replied. “Yes, yes, yes, that’s what I’ve said and what I’m saying. Zero consequence on any other plane, from Dal Quor to Faerie. We’ve even had some of our demiplanes checked—Vapoa vanished and not a mark was made anywhere else except here.”
“Please, ‘tis nonsensical!” squeaked Archmage Ergnaxis, an odd noise to hear from a beholder.
Archmage Argothis spread his rainbow wings, said: “Not in the slightest. We know so little. What’s to say it’s not reformed or reforming somewhere right now? The Astral Se—”
“Well of course!” interrupted Ergnaxis, out-of-character. “What is lost must be found elsewhere. Where, I’m afraid, may frighten us.”
Every gaze turned to Ergnaxis and his many eyes. The field was nearly equal.
“Vapoa’s dissolution and reformation may have been planned. It may have been accidental. But there’s no mistaking where this vanished world was dumped.”
Argothis glared at the beholder. “Some of our best and brightest were already on the case of the largest Xoriat cult, they call it the Entropic Enc—”
“Wait. Have you not read the latest? The paper from the Rest always has it.” Handil entered the conversation again.
“I awoke and rushed here, I didn’t…”
Handil frowned, looked up at the prismatic dragon. “The group who trailed members of the Entropic Enclave, fought them directly. They are coming, coming here, coming home!”
Archmage Nyra finally found time to speak, “Give me their names, their houses here, I’ll teleport them—”
“No, no need for that. Give them some time. I think…” Archmage Ginorin Haudeed jumped in, thought for a moment more. “I think this may have been their and my doing, and while they may have unintentionally up and vanished all of Vapoa, all may have been worthwhile. Good work you’ve done with your best and brightest” Ginorin motioned to Argothis. “Might’ve lost all the planes by now without them acting!”
Before the massive dragon could retort, Karsigon’s Orrery rumbled. Then, all eyes shot to it. Nine Hells below, thought Ginorin.
The gray-blue sphere representing Ysgard briefly darkened. Then: hundreds of tiny pale dots rose and vanished from the ball. The pale flow continued.
“Oh, by the Ainos” piped Venri.
The sphere representing the Nine Hells of Baator cracked. A black beam raced toward it from the Abyss of Uruk’s dark blood-red sphere.
Archmage Argothis flew from the huge hall.
“Everyone to the Interplanar Impartium, now!” boomed Handil.
Karsigon’s Orrery rumbled again.
Faerie began flashing violently: pink, red, black, green, pink, yellow, sage…
The Shadowfell of Grimlur grew.
The Beastlands of Fyslan fractured.
The model of the Orrery of Worlds began to turn. Faster and faster. And faster. Finally, its speed normalized.
One by one, the rest of the Archmages of Galen rushed from the chamber, until only Ergnaxis remained.
The beholder’s brains worked. So the Great Unraveling—begins. Let our verse be open eternally.