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"The War of Shadows was a baffling series of separate military actions and related events that historians now believe were attempts by survivors of the Demon Council of Juinkarr to re-establish the severed link to Barathrum Proper, as well as to restore the Dark Kingdom of the Age of Legends. Though it is mostly recognized as a civil war amongst the Shadowspawn, its influence was felt across the entire Selebore.

This civil war is believed to have its origin with the prophecy by Xekrill the Witch that a grand-child of the traitor Lunintur would one day capture the fortress of Juinkarr in the name of the Circle of Five, thereby closing the Circle of Power against the supporters of Barathrum and denying them the ability to reopen the Gate to Hell. Quattor, one of the surviving three demons, ordered an attack on the family of Lunintur to wipe them out and prevent this prophecy from coming to pass. Of course, with the descendants of Lunintur being one of the larger families in the Lumor clan, the attacks quickly resulted in the opening skirmishes of a larger war. These events became known as the Dragonhunts.

What happened next has been a matter of serious debate, as the fighting seems to have spilt across species, jumping from a dragon-only conflict to include all species of Shadowspawn. The war truly came to the attention of the wider Selebore with the Siege of Corrumwhell, when an orc chief launched a failed invasion of the Garbanan Peninsula specifically to kill one of the last surviving descendants of Lunintur. During this short but intense siege, five dragons from the Lumor Clan, who had found sanctuary in the Catarrum Mountains, came to the aid of the little town that had been harbouring them. Though most of them would die in the town's defence, they and their human friends would become famous as the Lúgroccae throughout Selebore. Of particular note in this action is Gahntuar skir Ignehur, the initial target of the attack who lead the dragons; Lainah skar Therina, who was instrumental in the protection of the children in town; and Seghrien 'One-eye' skir Tuaranen, who died defending the breached Northern Gate during the final attack on the town.

As news of their success at defending Corrumwhell spread, the Lúgroccae numbers swelled to the point where they could approach the Circle of Five for assistance in their fight against the Umbrin dragons. Though the Circle was initially very sceptic about becoming involved with someone else's fight, the Amber Tower decided to offer what assistance it could since the request resonated so closely with the Tower's founding ideals*. The Lúgroccae were provided with lodging and training facilities, and over the next ten years they built themselves up.

When they were ready, they struck. Hoping to draw the majority of the Umbrin army away from Juinkarr, the Lúgroccan council sent a strike force south with the pretence to assist the embattled elves with recapturing important cultural territories. Some contemporary historians claim that it was a disastrous move, as they lost much of their force when the orcs outmanoeuvred the elves at the Battle of the Echoren River and the Lúgroccae had to scramble to save the elven northern army from annihilation. However, it succeeded in its main purpose to draw Umbrin attention away from Juinkarr long enough for the Lumors to strike at the centre of the Umbrin homeland, capturing the ruins of Juinkarr, securing it against a counter-attack and thereby bringing the original prophecy to pass. The following battle to dislodge the Lúgroccae from Juinkarr would prove to be more disastrous to the Umbrins than the Echoren was to the Lumors. The Dragon Civil War came to an abrupt end when the Umbrin King was killed during the action. But even worse for the Shadowlands, the main instigator of the war as a whole was also destroyed during the final push to force the Circle open again.

With Quattor dead, the war seemed to have come to an end and for nearly six decades, very little happened. The most important event for this narrative during these years would be the successful Lúgroccan occupation of Eydelvise Palace, from where they directed their campaign to push the horde out of the Ealyndore Forests before handing the territories back to the elves. But when the War of Shadows flared back up again, it did so in a very dramatic fashion.

Almost sixty years after the death of Quattor, the demon Septum finally revealed himself in support of Farron the Leech. Farron had come into possession of the widely feared blade Helegnel, which he used to great effect in a series of military campaigns which shattered the status quo of the time completely. The devastation of what would become known as the Undead War, was such that most homogeneous kingdoms, from Thendor to Equestria to Pantheria ceased to exist and Seleborians and Shadowspawn fought side by side for survival.

Though they initially suffered significant setbacks thanks to not taking the outrageous reports seriously, the now powerful Lúgroccae eventually played an important role in halting the progress of the undead forces. The actions of Lúg'gon Ikessa 'The Claw' is of particular interest, breaking the Siege of Serephal and killing Septum during what would eventually prove to be the turning point of the war. Her display of tactical brilliance during this action is studied even to this day.

The Leech was ultimately destroyed in single combat against Rochon'hir Merec. Sadly, Merec was mortally wounded during the fight and would succumb to his wounds a week later, but not before ensuring that Helegnel was broken into three sections, which was divided between the Ivory, Jet and Juinkarr Towers for safekeeping. His dragon companion, Lúg'hir Gahntuar, continued to lead Lúgroccae for several decades after Merec's death and even played an important role in the leadership of the Lúgroccae for years after his retirement. He would eventually succumb to old age, dying in his sleep at the incredible age of 311."

A surviving extract from "Centuries of Light: A brief history of the Second Age." a forbidden work during that was created sometime in the early Eternal Night [Second Dark Age] by an unknown historian of the time.

[*Please see more on the Amber Rebellion at the start of the Golden Age]

***

Merec frowned as he considered the cluster of members from the Lúgroccan council who had ambushed him and Gahntuar by the bridge leading up the Citadel of Juinkarr. To be honest, he was not that surprised to see two of the four Battlewing Commander pairs, nor the Councillor pair of External Affairs there. They had the habit of trying to throw Gahntuar's name around to get their way. But their Trainers of Arcane Arts was a surprise. The elf and his golden draine should have known better than to corner the ageing drake like this and try to pressure him like a mod of squabbling youngsters!

"Enough!" Merec shouted angrily, snapping his tail for emphasis. "Can you not see my grandfather is tired?"

"But young Merec," the purple drake, whose job in the council was to oversee the relations between the Lúgroccae and the other authorities on the continent, argued. "We just need his presence at the meeting of the Circle of Five. The Coral Tower has started to press hard on the issue of Riders being allowed to mould Mana again. But they still respect him greatly and as such will be more likely to listen if he was merely present... "

"My mother, Lúg'hir Stella, is more than capable of leading the delegation to meet the other Towers at the Aether Temple!" Merec pressed. "If you do not think she can stand outside her father's shadow, then why did you elect her to take over the leadership in the first place?"

"It will not be such a strenuous journey!" the purple drake's rider quickly pointed out. "With the portalstone, it will only be..."

"It doesn't matter!" Merec insisted, the bright iridescent green drake stomping his one front foot determinedly. "This journey to visit the Stones of Commemoration is already very taxing on my grandfather!"

Merec glared angrily at the cluster of councillors, before catching sight of an elder draine making her way over to them. Hopefully, he appealed to her with a desperate look on his features as she joined the impromptu meeting with the retired Lúg'hir. As the Master Tactician, Lúg'her Ikessa was a widely respected and somewhat feared member of the Council. The nickname 'The Claw' she was known by, even if it was only in hushed whispers throughout Juinkarr, was definitely an indication of her reputation. True, it was an unwelcome reminder of her exploits against the very Lúgroccae she was now part of, but most of the dragons and riders here meant it as a sign of respect, especially when one considered the rumours of her exploits during the Undead War when she had formed a wild bond with a young human and fought Farron's forces from the shadows.

Yet, despite the pale-blue draine's reputation, she seemed to have a soft spot for the young green dragon.

"Young Merec is right, you know!" she hissed, glaring disapprovingly at the cluster of council members. "If we are to have a strong leadership, we will have to first put some faith into their abilities."

"But..." the golden draine started to complain, but she was interrupted by Ikessa's current rider.

"No buts!" Urgvon rumbled with an air of finality only orcs were seemingly capable of. "Come, let us leave our last founder in peace!"

There were a few mumblings of discontent, before the cluster of desperate council members started to disperse, turning around to head back to the Citadel for final preparations to depart for the Circle of Five meeting later that week. Ikessa watched then go with an unsatisfied snort, turning to give the old Lúg'hir a respectful nod before she as well turned to leave.

"'Kess..." Gahntuar finally spoke up, his voice thin and dry with age. The pale-blue draine hesitated for a bit, but then turned back to the old drake.

"Yes, sir?"

"How goes the hunt?" he asked with genuine interest.

"Not good!" Ikessa growled upset, not liking to be reminded of the last demon walking the continent. "The latest trail went cold again near Kerrathien. But fear not, I will one day catch up to her and make an end of her as well!"

"I do not doubt that!" Gahntuar smiled. "How is your youngster doing, by the way?"

"Everal has done a great job in knocking some discipline into the squad stationed in the Ice Mountains!" Ikessa smiled proudly, thinking of the eldest of the clutch she had conceived with the Lúg'hir shortly after the Undead War. "Orriel has taken a new mate, a strong drake from the southern Tokukavrong plains... what?" the draine stopped when Gahntuar chuckled.

"I am keeping a close eye on all my youngsters!" Gahntuar rumbled amused. "I was speaking of Seghrien."

"Oh?" Ikessa snorted. "No, he is doing well, thank you. His search-and-rescue team in Perston has achieved such success that he was asked to expand his operations along the entire coast of the Barthon Gulf."

"That is good to hear!" Gahntuar smiled. "He is a good drake."

"The rumour that his father assisted in the defence of Corrumwhell has helped him greatly," Ikessa admitted. "Thank you for that. Though, I always wondered why you never insisted on telling everyone the truth?"

"He was so happy when he heard his father fought at Corrumwhell," Gahntuar admitted with a shrug. "I couldn't bring myself to set the record straight. And it is for the best, I think. His father's supposed sacrifice has after all been the driving force behind his determination in setting up his team of sea-dragons."

"I guess you are right," Ikessa smiled, before nodding her head again in farewell. "I should be going. I doubt Lúg'her Ishah will drop her insistence that you join the delegation again so easily."

"Take care," Gahntuar smiled, chuckling at the thought of the golden draine.

"You two," Ikessa smiled before she turned and followed the rest of the council members up the steps and into the Citadel.

"How many times will this have to happen before they realize you are retired!" Merec growled, watching the annoying dragons disappear into the large edifice.

"Well, if it ain't broken, don't fix it!" Gahntuar chucked, nuzzling the over-protective youngster affectionately. When the young green drake frowned up at his grandfather, the old steel-grey drake burst out laughing. "It means why change something that has always worked!"

"I don't mean to say that you are broken, grandpa!" Merec quickly stated, still a little confused. "But they should really start leaving you alone and allow my mother to be Lúg'hir!"

"I know!" Gahntuar smirked, nuzzling his offspring-two-generations-past affectionately. Though he tried not to acknowledge it, the young drake was by far his favourite. His daughter, Stella had long tried to conceive without success. Then one day shortly after he had retired, the infertile draine had finally managed to conceive with a hero of the Undead War who many had feared would not survive a heavy stomach wound, laying a clutch of five healthy eggs for him. Yet, even though the old drake had doted heavily on the proud pair, it came as a shock when he had been given the honour by her mate to assist with naming the youngsters. As such, the two first hatched were named after the two civils who had been most important to him in life.

"Don't worry about me so much," Gahntuar grinned at the youngster as he started to cross the bridge again. "I'm old, but I'm not that fragile! Have you heard of your clutchmate, Erendile?" he asked when the youngster wanted to point out the grey scales that had lost their famous iridescence years ago, as well as the atrophied wings with torn membranes that refused to heal and the crown of shattered horns.

"Not since last spring," Merec admitted awkwardly. "I think she has finally settled in Tharral last I heard, working on the docks."

"Hoping to get some experience as a sailor?" Gahntuar smirked. "She has always been interested in exploring the unknown."

Merec only snorted at the comment, obviously thinking she should have been here as well to take care of the ailing drake. He had complained about it often enough to the elder drake, to be sure.

"Oh, enough of that!" Gahntuar grinned with another nuzzle at the youngster's face as they came to the end of the bridge. "Allow her the freedom to seek out her interest. Like you should also do one day!"

"Yes, sir!" Merec grumbled annoyed but allowed the matter to slide as Gahntuar stopped by the statue in front of the Citadel. A sombre silence fell over the two, one that Merec dared not disturb as he knew well what this meant to his grandfather.

Gahntuar spent his usual moment to regard the work of art at the centre of the Memorial to those who had fallen in service of the Lúgroccae. It was a sculpture of himself with his human in the moments after they had defeated Quattor, his rider holding the misshapen sabre aloft in victory while Quattor's severed head dangled by the horn from his other hand. It was incredibly lifelike, so much so that had he not known the human had taken the hilt of Helegnel with him into the Cave of Wonders, the drake would have believed the rumours that Merec's corpse had been cast into stone to watch over Juinkarr.

"Do you think he would have liked it that I carry his name?" Merec the dragon suddenly asked, sounding a little awkward with the idea. "I mean, I am a dragon..."

"I know he would have been honoured to share a name with such a devoted drake as yourself!" Gahntuar smiled, though a tear of longing slipped down his snout. He had never gotten used to the burning cold hole in his soul, even after decades of being alone. Roccan'gon Cera once said that a new companion helped ease the pain, but that it would never go away completely.

"I would like to have met him," Merec admitted, looking up in awe at the statue, before looking away awkwardly. "I mean... he was also my grandfather... -mother... er, I mean..."

"It is okay, I know he would have been thrilled to meet you as well!" Gahntuar chuckled, stepping past the statue to continue with his ritual. During the time he had been the only one to lead the Lúgroccae, he had made a point of stopping here each day before entering the Citadel. But since his retirement, the daily ritual became a weekly one and now was performed only once a month. But even at his age, he was determined to continue with it.

With a sad sigh, he stepped up to the first of the two large rectangular stones behind the statue and quickly singled out a specific name inscribed in golden lettering amongst the others. 'Amaren skir Gahntuar (Lúg'hir Vicarium)'. For a few seconds, he only stared at the name before he leaned in to touch his snout to it where the middle rune of the name was already starting to fade away. He gave the name a respectful nod and another second of contemplation before moving on to the second stone and repeating the process to a particular name there as well: 'Merec of Corrumwhell (Roccan'hir)'.

Gahntuar finally turned away from the stones, rubbing fresh tears from his eyes with a stubby wing thumb before he started to walk determinedly back to his lodgings. As he passed the statue again, he did allow himself to look up at it longingly again. He really liked it, unlike that horrible thing someone had put up on the Market-square in Corrumwhell to commemorate the now-famous siege. True, it was also very lifelike, but historically completely inaccurate as it supposedly depicted the five original dragons who fought at the siege, standing in a circle amongst the exclusively human defenders. But it was not the fact that they were the wrong number, nor kitted out in full Lúgroccan armour that irked Gahntuar the most, but rather the fact that Seghrien of all dragons was depicted alongside himself.

Of course, there was nothing he could do about it now: Everyone remembered the dragon who had died outside the northern gate just after it fell. And when Seghrien's hatchling had learned about his sire fate there and asked about it, he had hinted that the red drake with the one eye had died there whilst defending the breach. He became surprisingly fond of the young maroon drake, so he did not see the point of putting the record straight, especially when he thought of the look of awe on the youngster's face at hearing about his heroic sire. No, he will take that truth to his funeral pyre.

"I think it is time to return home, sir!" Merec suddenly announced, bringing Gahntuar back to the moment.

"I guess so," Gahntuar agreed, turning his back on the memorial as he started to make his way to the lodgings assigned to him when his ability to fly had started to fail him. Though not far, the walk took several minutes and Gahntuar was more relieved than he should have been when Merec opened the sturdy wooden door and had him lie down on the larger pile of straw bedding again.

"There, you are!" the younger dragon smirked as Gahntuar sighed with contentment. "Rest a bit, and I'll go get your medicine!"

"Really?" Gahntuar grumbled like an unruly whelp at the mention of the medicine he was fed each day. "I doubt I need it as much as you claim! Will it not be put to better use elsewhere?"

"Grandpa!" Merec gasped, appalled. "You know it has been specifically put aside for you! How can you think of turning it down?"

"You know," Gahntuar smirked, leaning in conspiratorially towards the youngster, "eating crystalline Aether will not make me live forever!"

"I..." Merec gulped, staring wide-eyed at the fragile drake. "I know, but it will help you regain your strength! You should actually have taken it before going to the Commemoration Stones! Please, even if it is just for me!"

"Okay, Okay!" Gahntuar smirked at the stubbornness of the youngster. It was heart-warming to see him trying to protect him from the council on one wind and now practically forcing a fake elixir of life at him on the other. "You win! I'll take it."

"Yes!" Merec smirked, rushing immediately to the door. "I'll be back in a second! You won't even miss me."

"Merec!" Gahntuar suddenly called him back.

"Yes?" the young green asked, poking his head back through the door to hear what more he could do for the old dragon.

"You know I am proud of you, right?" Gahntuar stated worriedly. "You don't need to prove yourself to me."

"I know," Merec insisted, though he didn't sound very convinced by his own statement.

"I love you," Gahntuar rumbled with a fond smile.

"I love you two, grandpa!" Merec smirked back at him before he disappeared through the door again.

Gahntuar sighed, shaking his head as he watched through the window how the youngster darted off to the Citadel. Still, he continued to smile affectionately even after the bright green dragon disappeared. Of course, the youngster meant well, but sometimes he was even more tiring than the new Lúgroccan council he despised at times.

Gahntuar yawed tiredly as he lay down. He was surprisingly tired and seeing how it will be a while before his grandson would be able to return with his 'medicine', he thought a quick nap sounded good. He was just on the verge of drifting to blissful sleep...

...when he was suddenly interrupted by a playful green middle-aged drake who had somehow managed to slip inside without him noticing. The rude youngster pounced on him without any regard for his age or station, playfully biting at the back of Gahntuar's neck as he tried to pin his victim down. But Gahntuar was not the old Lúg'hir for nothing. With surprising ease even at his age, the old drake managed to twist around and wrestle the younger dragon off himself before deftly pinning the impossible creature beneath a secure forepaw.

"You insolent..." Gahntuar growled down at the green drake, but then the reprimand died on his tongue. The drake smirking up at him was non-other than his clutchmate and elder brother, Jenour. Gahntuar scrambled off him as if he had stepped on a pain triggerrune.

"Hi there, Gahnty!" Jenour smirked, still laying prone on the floor where Gahntuar had pinned him so successfully. "My, you've become quite skilled at wrestling since we last played together!"

"Jenour... what... how..." Gahntuar stammered, staring at the impossible sight of his long-dead brother smirking up at him. "You-you're dead!"

"Sorry to break the news to you, little brother..." Jenour stated with a nod of his head to the side. Although Gahntuar feared what he would see, he was unable to keep his gaze from drifting to where the ghost indicated. And though it came as no surprise to him, he still gasped in shock when he saw himself still laying on the straw bedding as if fast asleep.

"I... I'm dead?" Gahntuar whined, staring wide-eyed at his corpse.

"I'm afraid so," Jenour agreed, standing suddenly beside him. The green drake burst out laughing when the black turned to look worried at him. "Oh, don't be so gloomy about it! This is just a new way of existence."

"But... what about..." Gahntuar continued to whine, glancing out the window and suddenly finding himself outside. He looked up at the Citadel as one dragon roared out a cheerful greeting to the guards as it arrived after a long journey. He was dead, yet life continued as normal. Won't it?

"They will be fine," Jenour smirked, also looking around at the Lúgroccae as they went about their business. "You have left a sturdy set of wings behind to look after them."

"How can you possibly know that?" Gahntuar growled, glaring at the other ghost.

"You can go have a look at it yourself!" Jenour insisted, suddenly standing down an alleyway and beckoning Gahntuar to follow. "You are passing on into eternity, remember."

"And what does that mean?" Gahntuar hissed annoyed. "Sitting on a rock that is always sun-warmed, being content for thousands upon thousands of years?"

"Hardly!" Jenour scoffed, suddenly by Gahntuar's side again. "You are thinking of eternity as you experienced time in life, but they don't compare. Think about it this way, if life is a river, that starts in the mountains and flows downhill as far as it can, then eternity is like the ocean. Everything and every time are there, together." When Gahntuar scoffed, he continued unperturbed. "What I'm trying to say is that if you follow me, you can go see what could possibly happen to them. At the same time, you can see what could have been had you made a different choice, learn the truth about an event that had bugged you..."

"Like what?" Gahntuar challenged, turning away from a squad being called up to report on a recently completed routine patrol.

"It probably doesn't bother you that much, seeing the choices you have made!" Jenour admitted with a knowing smirk, though Gahntuar could tell that speaking about the recently deceiced drake's decision to continue conceiving clutches with blood relatives was a little awkward for the other ghost. "But have you ever wondered how it came to be that we were conceived in the first place? I... I mean intrafamily conceptions were not a thing before the dragonhunts..."

"You didn't!" Gahntuar gasped, staring at Jenour as if he never really knew his brother. When Jenour's shy smirk only grew, Gahntuar pulled back in shock. "You did!"

"I was just curious about how it happened in the first place," Jenour admitted.

"Have you really gone to watch dad pound your egg into mom?" Gahntuar glared at him disbelievingly but was suddenly shocked to realize that it was not just his image that was slightly transparent, but his soul as well. And he realized that the green drake was indeed telling the truth and that the other ghost could see the doubt in Gahntuar's soul as well.

"Oh, don't worry about not believing me!" Jenour dismissed the worry Gahntuar suddenly felt. "I know how I was in life... but priorities change completely once you enter eternity. Anyway, that is where I first met our grandmother. She is not very impressed with the idea that her life-mate took their daughter as a new mate, but she understands what happened and approves of dad's choice to go through with it to the end. She even tried to offer what support she could to them... She is eager to meet you by the way!"

He was suddenly interrupted by a shout of surprise from the bridge and when they turned, they noticed Merec the dragon come rushing down the street, dodging the squad they had noticed earlier as he clutched a little jewelled box between his jaws. He did not even acknowledge the two drakes as he rushed excitedly up to the door of Gahntuar's lodgings.

"Oh, no!" Jenour gasped as Merec rushed inside. "I spent too long talking... I had hoped to avoid this. Come, we need to go NOW!"

"Avoid what?" Gahntuar asked, already finding himself back inside the building as Merec came rushing up to where he lay.

"Hey grandpa, time to wake up!" Merec called with a smirk. "I've got your medicine!"

"Grandpa?" Merec asked a little worried when the grey drake did not stir, even when the youngster tried to shake him awake. "This is no time to play around!"

"We need to go now!" Jenour stressed nervously. "The longer we stay, the harder it becomes to leave."

"But... but..." Gahntuar stuttered, unable to look away from the youngster who was starting to panic.

"Grandpa? Wake up!" Merec shouted, the youngster's voice cracking. "You need to take your medicine! DAD! Nononononono. Please, please don't be..." He turned around, fleeing back outside and running as quickly as he could manage. "SOMEONE! HELP!"

"Come," Jenour insisted. "There is nothing more for you to do. No matter how much you want to remain with them, you cannot. You cannot assist them anymore, nor guide them, nor even interact with them. It is time to move on."

"I know... but... how?" Gahntuar asked, turning around and gasping in surprise when he found himself on one of the outcroppings above Juinkarr. He looked out over the grand headquarters of the Lúgroccae as a distant bell started to toll. Slowly, a panicked scramble came over the settlement that had been silent and content in the lazy morning.

"Let them go!" Jenour smiled encouragingly. "Just, step forward!"

Gahntuar looked at him momentarily, before turning back to those he was expected to be leaving behind. As he did so, a realization came over him that he was standing before an important decision: He could choose to return to Juinkarr, but then he will remain there until it is reduced to rubble again. Or he could turn away and move on.

"There are several souls anxiously waiting for you," Jenour pressed one last time.

"Waiting for me?" Gahntuar asked, glancing back at Jenour. As he did so, he suddenly became aware that the hole in his soul had been filled with warmth and joy again. Smiling, he made his move.

"Merec!"

A lonely wind blew forlornly over the ridge overlooking the grand establishment of Juinkarr, catching the sound of bells calling the council of the Lúgroccae to an urgent meeting. Beyond the tower walls, however, it was a peaceful scene. The late morning sun of late autumn shone brightly over the world, giving its warmth freely to all creatures willing to bask in its glory.

It truly was a beautiful day.

***

It is recorded that the news of Lúg'hir Gahntuar's death was received with shock across the whole of Selebore, from Rogeroth in the east to Warren in the west, and all the way south to Naeve. It would be one of the few occasions when not only the sitting of the Circle of Five was cancelled, but the Royal Autumn Hunt of Kerrathien and even the harvest festival of Garrowull as well. Delegates from all the major authorities of the day travelled to Juinkarr to attend the old dragon's funeral pyre, something that had happened to no other dragon in recorded history.

Gahntuar's daughter, Stella would continue her father's legacy, leading the Lúgroccae into their glory days that was not achieved even by Gahntuar himself and remained unsurpassed by her son and his daughter after him. Records we could find agree that under the first four Lúg'hirae, the Lúgroccae continued to play an important role in keeping the peace and guarding Selebore against the looming threat that was Senna. But it was not to last.

Gahntuar's offspring-four-generations-past would lead the Lúgroccae into a civil war when his mother chose a draine unrelated to Gahntuar to succeed her as Lúg'hir. This would be the beginning of the slow collapse of Gahntuar and Merec's dream. The post-civli-war Lúgroccae was not strong enough to stand up to the threat of the Potestan Empire, and alike the Circle of Five, they were eventually conscripted into the service of the Lumen Emperor to act as guards and envoys.

Eventually, in the time of eighth Lúg'hir, Senna used the confusion of the imperial collapse to infiltrate and corrupt the Coral Tower to her whims. From there, she would go on to lead six new demons on a conquest of Selebore and create a New World Order to her designs. This 'Empire of the Eternal Night' would last well over a thousand years, with her as 'Great Mother' at the very top of the hierarchy.

Of course, there are many more stories out there that remain to be told. But that is for someone else to tell, I think.

I am Icurthus skir Maregha, a descendant of Gahntuar seventeen-generations-past. I am the Head Curator at 'The Department of Interspecies Relations of the Early Second Age', affiliated with the Library of Othlean, Third Age.

Please note that, although this work has been inspired by historic figures and events that can be confirmed by contemporary writings, this is still a work of fiction and should be accepted as such.

May Gullivarth keep your wings strong and your wind secure on your journey, wherever you may go from here. And may we one day find ourselves riding on the same thermal once more, to share stories again.

I thank you for your time.