The Fading and the Shattering of Knowledge
Thirty six years ago, the world was unmade; not by war or famine but by The Fading. It was a cataclysm not of fire and blood but a far more insidious disaster. The knowledge of generations, the accumulated wisdom of scholars, the techniques of artisans, and the very stories of ancestors slipped from memory like sand through open fingers. Books turned to blank pages, murals to featureless stone, and even the minds of the learned fell silent, bereft of what they once knew.
The impact was devastating for Kairos, a nation whose very identity was built upon tradition, artistry, and the refinement of skill. Master artisans stood in their workshops, their hands uncertain, unable to recall the secrets of their craft. The great orators, whose voices once echoed through the streets of Naxara, faltered as their speeches reduced to empty rhetoric. The Kurussi, awoke to find the scriptures erased, the rituals of devotion lost. It was as though the very foundation of Kairos had been pulled out from beneath it.
In the days and weeks following The Fading, the city-states of Kairos teetered on the edge of collapse. Some turned inward, hoarding what little knowledge they had left, while others sought to rebuild immediately, clinging desperately to scraps of remembered wisdom. In Naxara, the Rhapsodes, the sacred keepers of stories, became the most vital figures in the city. They gathered what fragments of history remained and set them to parchment before they, too, could be lost.
As Kairos came to fully understand what had been taken from them, a greater threat reared its head. The Corrupted, a presence felt and contested for some years, had made little headway into Kairos, the mighty Kolossi and excellent knowledge of the unique geography of the countrying proving too much to overcome quickly. Yet, in the wake of The Fading, the Corrupted surged forth, their influence spreading like a disease. Their war upon Kairos was not waged in open battle alone, but through the slow, inexorable enshrouding of land and sea.
The eastern plains were the first to fall, swallowed by magical fog. Those who ventured into the mist did not return, and the armies of Kairos were disorganised, having to recreate tactics that had served them well in the past. The island states of Pyranthos, Nyxeria, and Hydraphos, once bastions of culture and trade, fell one by one, their shores darkened, and their harbours silent.
When the Corrupted attacked the capital in 1022, every Kolossi in the city was animated in its defense, including the proud statue of Parysophelia. The Masons led them out of the city gates, control rods held proudly in firm grips, with glistening tears pouring from under their golden masks as the Kolossi marched to war. Hundreds of stories were destroyed that day, as the Kolossi formed an impenetrable wall around the city, fighting tirelessly to grind the forces of The Corrupted to dust. The Corrupted fought, but could not overcome the Kolossi and, though the damage done to the honoured dead was huge, the city itself, and it’s people, remained entirely untouched.
The Corrupted saw how powerful Kolossi could be when amassed in great numbers, so chose to change their tactics and take control of the source of the Kolossi, denying Kairos repair or replenishment of these unparalleled constructs. When the island of Mystikos fell it was a devastating blow, not just militarily, but spiritually. It was the single most demoralising event of the whole war, more so than the death of the Anax and Archons, more than the losses of the cities of Korynthos and Aegion. Kairosi dead were unable to be honoured in the traditional way, and while the people of Kairos may have forgotten why they created Kolossi, they still knew that it was the right thing to do in their souls.
A Fractured Present and an Uncertain Future
Thirty six years since The Fading, Kairos remains a nation divided, yet unbroken. Half of its lands are lost, but the spirit of its people endures. The deaths of the standing Anax and Archons following the Pact of the Nine has left Kairos leaderless, but the citizenry has banded together to keep the nation moving forward. The states that still stand in Kairosi hands have repaired much of the damage done during the war. The Rhapsodes continue their sacred duty and, working with the recently formed Archivists of Echoes, are attempting to piece together the lost knowledge. The Kurussi, their faith tested as never before, strive to rebuild the rituals of the Pantheon from memory and inspiration.Â
The people of Kairos have not surrendered to despair. If the past cannot be remembered, then it will be rediscovered. If the land cannot be reclaimed, then they will hold what remains with unshakable defiance. The armies march, the capital stands, and the gods have returned.
Kairos fights not just for survival, but for the return of what was lost. The Corrupted may hold the east, but the west endures—and as long as the fires of Naxara still glow, as long as the Light of Xanthus still shines across the waves, there is hope that one day, Kairos will reclaim its history.