"Much is still hidden from us today when we examine the history of the Elves of Tirakan. And much will probably remain hidden from us forever. Nevertheless, chroniclers and travelers from the lands of the elven peoples know of stories that offer a glimpse into the past of the Elves of Tirakan. And it is arguably a tale of both epos and woe of which they tell." ~ Thor Samuson, Traveler from Hadewald
The sacrilege
Not long after the Elves were created by the Dragons, Ancatir learned of the power and use of the Dragons' ritual through Thzularn. Obsessed with the idea of creating a race of his own, he convinced the good-natured, naive Silkanda to perform the ritual against the will of the Dragons. Using magic, they seized the will of the lovers Anscharon and Atiarel, and began to perform the ritual.
By doing so, however, they incurred the wrath of the dragon Tar. The eldest of the Dragons learned of the Elves' sacrilege and descended into the vault that served the Elves as the site of the ritual. He interrupted the rite, putting Atiarel into a deep sleep. While Silkanda retreated into the forests of the north, Ancatir - abandoned by the favour of the Dragons and the influence of Thzularn - fled to a land far to the south. From then on, his people sought their fortune in seafaring.
The first war
Anscharon himself awoke from the magical influence, and he became aware of every detail of the ritual. He withdrew himself out of shame and despair to an island beyond the great sea. While he lived apathetically in his despair, he did not realise that Thzularn had already made a great impact on his people. Dark cults arose and the worship of Thzularn prevailed among the elfes of Ansharon. Only a few stood by their lord Anscharon.
So it came to the first great war of the Elves, when the Anscaron elfes under Thzularn's influence attacked the land of the Atiarel. Even though the dark goddess never appeared herself, it was her intention to awaken the sleeping Atiarel in order to complete the ritual. The war lasted for many years, and many Elves of both peoples died during that time.
The fall of Re
The battles came to an end through the son of Silmarion, the second king of the city of Re, the home of the Atiarel. This son - his old name is now hidden from the world - was given a magical jewel by an unknown figure, which would henceforth take away his every decision and steer his fortunes forever in a better direction for him. In return for his personal existence, he was instructed to open the gates of the city of Re at a certain time.
Silmarion learned of the betrayal too late, and even as the enemy warriors of Anscharon stormed the city, he cursed his own son in death to an eternal life of perpetual greed. Henceforth the king's son was called only Dun. Stories and legends tell that he still roams the cities of northern Meridian on his perpetual quest.
A new life
But the war continued, and it was only after the Atiarel people had already been almost completely destroyed that Tar intervened in the battle. He drove back the warriors of Anscharon, and allowed the Atiarel to flee into the mountains. To protect them from further harm, he appointed himself as guardian over the Atiarel, and created an area of magical protection around the mountains. This area is said to be later known to the people as the Valley of Oblivion.
In the mountains, the Atiarel built a city in the image of Re. This place, the old City, lay protected for all peoples of Tirakan, and it gave birth to a sublime race of Elves. This people was henceforth called Aldahar. Only when the One returns will the name Atiarel be spoken again in the Old City.
Iana Alyaria
The Iana Alyaria (Song of Alyaria) was written in 350 EC by Alwaon Feynwynn, a seer and visionary of the Silkanda. The elven song tells of the sacrilege of the Atiarel and the born ''Alyaria'', the unholy brood of the Elves. This brood was created by the ritual which was already forbidden to the Dragons, and with which they created the Elves.
It is for me to tell you
what happened many years ago
As Algor you want to settle the disaster,
want one of our ancient councils.
The bonds were abruptly torn
by the loss of God's Conscience.
Ancatir was the bold champion,
Atiarel the naive child,
Anscharon Lord of the Dark Riders
Was full of love in the cold wind.
Silkanda at last was in silence
fighting for Samusa's Will.
So it came to pass that Ancatir
let himself be enchanted by Thzularn's Word.
He left the fortress of Belenthir
and left for Re.
There shall be a great calamity
when Elves strive for the arts.
The arts of the past world
When the Demons were still alive.
As Thzularn now holds this spell
Who once gave the divine treachery.
The dark goddess now wanted to
do the dragon's sacrilege again.
The sacrilege was long in the past
but the Elves never forgot.
Only one piece was missing then
their existence would have been measured by nothingness.
They would not have existed at all,
Tedasiél would still be alive.
So they created the children now
contrary to the word of their elders
in a rite, dark deed,
in the Samusa's high hoard.
They now created the Elfforms
Against the prohibition of the Old Ones.
The Dragons created their children
the four immortal called ones
And be they also called sinners
who sent their spawn into the world
the Elves should do again
the dragon's iniquities themselves now.
Ancatir the foul traitor
who has the knowledge of Thzularn.
He was the human-like perpetrator
Who Silkanda now did banish.
Who enticed Silkanda
that the latter kidnapped Atiarel.
A fourth was still missing
to the rite as the Dragons did,
so at the dark hour of the night
Ancatir betrayed his spirit.
Kidnapped Anscharon by night
And brought him to Atiarel.
In that hour without light
the four of their Elves
without Algor's holy judgement
performed the ritual like wild animals.
Anscharon and Atiarel are now
are victims of Ancatir's deeds!
A new life was born here, like the Draken.
a new life was born here
that was never to grow strong,
crippled in one of the four.
In Atiarel grew the cursed one...
who sought Algor's blessing sorrowfully.
Anscharon who now awoke himself
from Thzularn's spell now rose,
retreated far and wide and made
the sacrifice of himself in the maelstrom
of infinite melancholy.
Never left the tomb of his throne.
Thzularn, on the other hand, quickly
saw the people abandon Anscharon
let the throne be laid at his feet
and Anscharon's power quickly faded.
She shall be the mighty one now
of the dark Elves' weak bones.
The people of Anscharon under the spell
of the dark goddess of sinister power
with sword and bow now began
began a battle with the brother nation.
A truly bloody warfare
began to defeat Atiarel.
Ancatir the traitor meanwhile
retreated to the south
and sought there his salvation
and his own poor peace.
For a long time nothing was heard of him,
until his peace was disturbed.
In the north at the same time
in the city of Re, the holy throne
the Atiarel, makes ready
Silmarions, son of the king
The wisdom of this old lord
his son would like to have.
The son found one day in the forest
on the trunk of an old tree
a jewel in the shape of an eye
of an eye, crystal clear and clammy.
This eye seemed to him like a blessing
showing the best of all paths.
The eye guides the son purposefully
and helps with all his questions.
Only that the power that now plays
is very dark and will hunt him.
For now, folly leads him
to the gate of the city in darkness.
He opens it for the dark ones
the Elves of the Thularn fall,
who storm Re, taletellers rumour
the city has fallen in the night.
Re no longer exists since that day
only old stones and many a tale.
The son of Silmarion
was cursed by his father then.
He can never do good again,
will live forever and he can
the form from himself any more
he is the Dun, so they will sing.
The child of the immortals yet
in Atiarel, the eternally anxious
who by the dragon Tar only
in perfect statis caught.
That the light of Algor may never
ever see the light of day.
Until one day those beings
who unite neither culture nor history
unite, only themselves recover
call upon the divine courts.
So a human hero calls them
from the Statis Tars to the world.
Henceforth the spell of night
in its disgusting strength
with all its godlike power
and all manlike hardness
shall lie upon them like a curse.
So writes the book of the Chronicler.
We have committed the sacrilege
the shame is now ours.
But it is the brood that is now imprisoned
for ever and ever without rest,
to be in disgrace for aeons
like the Anscharon legions.
Only Algor will set them free
as he has created them.
From a holy spring light shall spout
as it did at her creation.
Only then will the young bones
finally broken before the Lord.
Thereby it probably needs the
the artefacts of Algor
Goblet and staff and sword unite
he who would break the gate
to the chamber in which she gave birth
which was also the place of iniquity.
There now these beasts
who walk shamefully in the world
the illicit brood of fours
enter the eternal field.
Disintegrate in the stream of time
forgotten until eternity.
The rite must repeat itself
from the back now to the front
and as Tar himself once commanded
Become untrue and without meaning.
Only then will we be again
without hate in eternal union.