For Isidore

And so Aleon studied the book he had discovered, and found a way to bring the Asyrr back into the world. He returned to his tower and set to work on bringing the Hellspawn back to ravage the world once more. He completed the dark ritual, and begged for his beloved to be returned to him. Instead, Aleon was given the powers of the Asyrr, and their bloodlust. And Aleon commanded the hordes of demons to go forth and bring him the body of Isidore.

From his tower, the armies of the Asyrr began a campaign of unrivaled destruction. Entire cities were left in ashes. People died by the thousands. Within three weeks, the nation of Iresta, bastion of purity and light, was a smoking ruin, haunted by the ghosts of the innocent and the demons of Hell. Â

The body of Isidore was returned to Aleon's tower, the centuries of decay leaving little but a skeleton. And as Aleon begged the Asyrr to help him, the demons already there became restless, and sought their own amusements.

The Dwarves of the nearby Dragonspine Mountains, with their strong backs and affinity for mining and stonecraft, were captured and forced to live as nothing more than livestock and slaves. The reclusive Elves of the Crystaldawn Forests, with their deep connections to the magics and the forests of the world, became the subjects of vile experiments and cruel torture. The races of Men, with their incredible capacity for destruction, were simply hunted down and destroyed. And Aleon did nothing, but beg for the return of his beloved.

A black tide of death and chaos swept throughout the world as the Asyrr rampaged unchecked. Brave soldiers and mighty priests were struck down where they stood, and sanctuary was nowhere to be found. The Asyrr were here not as conquerors, but destroyers. The sanctity of life meant nothing to them. And Aleon did nothing, but beg for the return of his beloved.

It had been one full year since Aleon had freed the Asyrr when he realized what he had done. There were few places left where refugees had gathered, few safe places to hide from the bloodlust of the Hellspawn. The world that the great wizard had once known was gone, a smoking, bloody ruin remained. Iresta, Endser, Olhdona, all destroyed, their peoples enslaved or butchered. And as the sicking realization of what he had done crashed down upon him, he watched in wonder as the body of his beloved Isidore magically appeared, looking as radiant as ever. The wizard forgot what he had done to the world, and embraced his loving wife.

And as he let her go, he noticed the dagger in her hand. With a roar of unholy rage, she tried to stab him. Without thinking, Aleon grabbed his sword, a gift from King Taust, and sliced off her head. The body fell to the floor, flesh already beginning to decompose. Aleon's legs collapsed, and he sank into his chair.

And he wept.

He wept for his own damned soul. He wept for the many innocent lives that had been snuffed out because of his greed and recklessness. And most of all, he wept for his beloved Isidore.