The Book of Ayrlyn

Section I [Restricted Text]

There were angels in Heaven in those days, and there were demons, and the demons were the creators and the creation of chaos…

In that distant battle between the fires of the demons and the ice lances of the angels, the very skies twisted in upon themselves, and the angels, who came from cold Heaven, were cast down and strewn across the stars.

Those angels, the first and the last from far Heaven, when they found the world, knew not where they were, nor could they see even the stars from whence they had come. And they descended unto the Roof of the World.

There they build the Citadel of the Winds, the tower called Black, with those chained lightnings yet they had retained, carving unto themselves a high refuge and a reminder of their past.

So as they had come, so earlier had come those from the lands and heritage of the demons, and those were men who believed not that women should wear blades nor speak their minds and thoughts.

In the time of that first summer came armsmen, inspired by the demons, and there were battles across the Roof of the World, and blood…

Thus continued the conflict between order and chaos, between those who would force order and those who would not, and between those who followed the blade and those who followed the spirit.

On the Roof of the World, those first angels raised crops amid the eternal ice, and builded walls, and made bricks, and all manner of devisings of the most miraculous, from the black blades that never dulled to the water that flowed amidst the ice of winter and the tower that remained yet warm from a single fire.

Of the great ones in those times were, first, Ryba of the twin blades, Nylan of the forge of order, Gerlich the hunter, Saryn the mighty, and Ayrlyn of the songs that forged the guards of Westwind…

For as the skilled and terrible smith Nylan forged the terrible black blades of Westwind, and wrenched the very stones from the mountains for the tower called Black, so did Ryba guide the guards of Westwind, letting no man triumph upon the Roof of the World.

For as each lord of the demons said, 'I will not suffer those angel women to survive,' and as each angel fell, Ryba created yet another from those who fled the demons, until there were none that could stand against Tower Black.

So too, as did each of the forges of Heaven fail, did the mighty smith Nylan bend the fires of the world to his will and forge yet anew the black blades of Westwind.

Yet, despite Nylan's efforts in smithing the legions of the demons into dust, Ryba the mighty was not satisfied, and she asked for more black blades than the snowflakes that fell upon Tower Black, and for arrows that no armor could stop. And Nylan bent the forges to his will, and it was so, and still was Ryba displeased…

…and so it came to pass that Ryba was the last of the angels to rule the heavens and the angel who set forth the Legend for all to heed. Yet Ryba did not wish the Legend to leave Westwind.

For with the going forth of the prophet Relyn, who told all east of the mighty Westhorns about the Legend and the triumph of order, Ryba became more displeased, and called unto her all those of her guards.

And from that day did the new angels accept no man full-grown, no matter how ill or disabled, leaving any man found in the domain of Westwind to make his own way or to perish upon the Roof of the World.

Nor was any man raised in Westwind allowed to lift a blade, for it was foretold that when a man next lifted a blade would Westwind soon fall, but until then would Tower Black hold against all Candar, east and west, and even against all the mages of the world.

When word carried to Tower Black that the smith Nylan forged mighty blades again, and that those of Lornth warred with ancient Cyador, the black stones shivered with the foresight of the Angel.

Then did Ryba announce that Lornth would rue the day it put its trust in the iron of Nylan and the songs of Ayrlyn, for all that a man builds with iron will fall to iron, and the songs that a man finds sweet can carry no truth.

And the guards of Westwind hardened their hearts, as cold and terrible as the ice that never leaves Freyja…