A Glimpse of Zin Azshari

Chapter 9: A Glimpse of Zin-Azshari

A Preface for the Trial, authored by Aeris, the Primal Father Wisp.

When a coral reef starts to die, there is a certain period of time when it starts to bleach, and algal mats creep slowly over the partially dead swathes of coral. The remaining live coral appears especially vibrant, and it is made strangely more beautiful to the observer by the inevitability of its doom. In hindsight, at the peak of its glory, our best memories of Zin-Azshari were no different. Looking upon that city could even bring a tear to the weathered eye of an Ancient.

To pilgrims, the virgin sight was naturally breathtaking, but even those familiar with the city seemed to be inexhaustibly charmed by its splendor. Built in snaking and spiraling rows around the enchanting sapphire waters of Elune’s lake, Zin-Azshari had a way of evoking amnesia in even the most experienced viewer. There is a saying in old Elvish, which translates as, “the silver chalice grows dull to those who drink from it daily”. In the case of Zin-Azshari, the opposite was true. The city was such a welcome and magnificent assault on the senses, that as one drank in each fresh glance, new details that were previously overlooked by the admirer became illuminated in conspicuous glamour.

Often the panorama was so bejeweled, and the viewer so starstruck, that it was hard for them to find a place to rest their eyes. Personally, after an indulgent and meandering path, my gaze would always gravitate towards Elune’s Lake, a body of water which the city’s denizens renamed the Well of Eternity. There, I would find the eddies of The Well rippling gently at the city’s core. From there, my eye would naturally follow the mists upwards, where the swirling and ghostly arcane vapors danced in the night sky, rich with Elune’s magical infusions. On the eve of the Moon’s waning, that great beacon of light appeared as a translucent obelisk stark against the heavens, and the lunar perfumes surged and rippled, ascending infinitely upwards. There was never a sight so fear-inspiring and at the same time so utterly tranquil. From the steams my gaze then moved horizontally, taking in the banks of the Well, lined with alternate congregations of pearly white columns. Many of the banks held glittering marble gazebos and vast amphitheaters that were embedded seamlessly within the nape of the city. Endless tiers of oval sky-gardens emanated from all sides of the Lake, and tranquil towering aqueducts shone distinctly in the eternal moonlight, pouring their magically fertile waters down through the cascading arched canals that trickled steadily into the Well.

Interspersed sparsely amongst the colossal monuments were the older Elven shrines and buildings. These were angular and robust, fashioned from oak, chestnut, and walnut, sung into being by the Elves’ ancient wild magics. With only two walls, and open floor plans, the houses betrayed the wilder natures of their Druid builders, even though the delicately carved eaves of their rooves were no less elegant than the fresher marble constructions.

Still, the wooden buildings were conspicuous beside the vast stone temples and arches. After all, those monoliths were assembled by potent and cold magic borne from harsh and derived arcane incantations, so different from the Proto-Druids’ melodious hymns. Those gentle natural magics had been used by the Proto-Druids since times of old to softly coax the living trees into shapes that would become their homes. Back then we called the Druids shamans, because their nature-based arts were derived from their troll ancestors, and although many of the newer stone buildings were unclaimed by nature, other parts of the city built with stone were so ancient that they had already been overgrown by twisting vines, ivy, and strangling figs of lucid violet leaves.

The arcane-carved columns playing host to the encroaching vegetation was what had reminded me of the algae that appears on dying reefs. Nature restores balance, one way or another. We should have known that the power-hungry mages of the Queen and her court could never have coexisted indefinitely with nature. The arcanists took Elune’s magic, a great natural blessing, and masked their desecration of it by euphemizing it as “refinement”. Pushing their studies further and further with no qualms, the Highborne’s ambition would eventually risk everything we held dear.

This fleeting moment of observation, pinned in my memory, was long before the fall, however. This cherished memory I hold of Zin-Azshari is from a whole millennium before The Trial and the subsequent Fall. At that time, the old and the new shone brightly, tradition and progress, side by side. How naïve we were, to think it could last.