Dance of the Concordium

By T.J. Nolan

After Earth's Great Cataclysm, the last survivors of Eldermere struggle to rebuild their desolate world from within the enormous Ecospheres sheltered by the six remaining Higher Houses. Once unified under the peaceful Concordium Pact, now the alliance unravels swiftly into disorder. Political fractures shred ancient pacts forged in legend. Only cryptic prophecy promises salvation — if the warring Houses can achieve reunion before night falls eternally. At the conflict's center lies Kael, sole surviving Aetherscribe of House Veridion. Steeped in Eldermere's rituals and oaths, his fateful choices will force the world to rest on a knife's edge. Will desperate alliances of spies and shadows manage to preserve the balance? Can instincts for snakes and storms see Eldermere through chaos? Here lies a tale of bonds bloodied yet unbroken amid tragedy and betrayal, of hard-won victory and unthinkable terror. As the dangerous Dance of the Concordium plays out, the fate of Eldermere and life on Earth hangs precariously — dependent on devastated souls fighting to rebuild one fragile world from the ashes, ever racing to evade darkness on the land's horizon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T.J. Nolan
• Release date: Jan 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224270958

Book preview

A Glimmer of Hope

The child crept through the silent ruins, footsteps echoing down desolated streets once thronged with vibrant life. Broken aqueducts spilled their last brackish whispers of water. Ash has dulled the tiles of eroded mosaics, paying homage to heroes whose names time has ravished.

He paused before a crumbling fresco depicting the Ancient Concordium, struggling to decipher the weathered symbols of the legendary houses. The child, startled, glanced to find an old man in worn gray robes watching him from the shadows.

The Prophecy foretells their return, the old man rasped, his voice echoing like wind in empty halls. With a trembling, dirt-encrusted hand, he held forth an ancient scroll bound in ribbons and etched with intricate calligraphy.

The Houses, legendary guardians of elements and life and death, will rise once more.

The child's eyes widened with curiosity. Tell me more about this prophecy.

The old man nodded and unfurled the scroll, angling it to let the flickering candlelight dance across the runic letters. He read of a solemn covenant formed between warring factions when the world stood on the brink of ruin long ago.

Of wise House Aquallum, aligned with the deep mysteries of water and the relentless flow of time. Fiery House Ignivox, who commanded flame and the planet's molten lifeblood. Scholars of Veridion with their forest strongholds and whispering spirits. Terravine's unrelenting warriors, tempered by earth and stone.

Can the divided houses reunite after all this time?

In answer, a deep tremor shook the ground, splintering the ancient flagstones. Cracks split the earth as molten light simmered up from beneath. The air rippled with released elemental energies not felt for generations. This broken world, though ravaged beyond recovery, still held remnants of a power both wondrous and terrible in its primal scale and antiquity.

Hours later, as the first rays of dawn filtered over the nearby sea, the spectral figures gathered and moved through the ruins toward the meeting place. The awakening tremors drew forth ghostly emissaries from all the legendary houses. The child knew each House nurtured bitter grudges and blood oaths against the others sworn over centuries of war and betrayal. Their vengeful resurgence could mean this fragile planet's end.

They came together in this moment and location for a significant motive. The child glanced at the prophecy in his hands once more. The ending lines offer a promise of reconciliation and rebirth, urging the Houses to unite as they did in ancient times.

"When darkness falls across blighted land and sea,

The sundered Houses again one light must be,

Combining gifts anew beneath Concordium's tree.

Freedom holds the key to the world's rebirth.

Trembling, the child handed the scroll back to the old man. Today, the choices of these awakened remnants will shape the world's destiny. He had to reach them before old hatred sparked an inferno and tried to rekindle hope.

It had been innumerable lifetimes since the Cataclysm had fractured the land, air, and sea, bringing ruination upon all peoples. Few still living could recall the lost majesty of Veridion's sprawling forests, Ignivox's ornate foundries aglow with elemental fire, or Aquallum's lustrous rolling seas before the fall.

Yet despite the long epochs of desolation and violence, fragile hope endured in remote havens where the last tattered remnants of Eldermere's grandeur continued to be sheltered and nurtured.

The stoic warrior scions of House Terravine dwelled deep within craggy subterranean redoubts carved into the bulwark mountains of the continent's spine. Aloof scholars of House Luxaria traced the patterns of fading constellations from their tower sanctum high above the scorched earth.

The noble forest lords of House Veridion once made their refuge amongst the boughs of the last living trees. Now they ruled from high citadels protecting the landscape through ancient waterways long silted over and forgotten.

It was from high above the oaken throne that Lord Vaelor Veridion now watched, nurturing the seedlings destined to bring life back to the barren soil. None living could remember when he had not led the House.

There were rumors circulating among the people that his noble house had survived the long centuries since the Cataclysm because of its sheer resolve. They whispered he communed with the spirits of past Veridion lords and bore a shard of the Lost Prophecy within him, granting visions. But all that was just rumors.

None could match his wisdom, skill, or might. The relic trees he himself had sung to life from nuts gathered millennia ago. Now he tended their sapling descendants as carefully as his people. None dared question Lord Vaelor's leadership.

Few petitioners ever disturbed Lord Vaelor's contemplation, but the delicate sound of knuckles rapping on wood echoed from the spiral stair beyond the woven vine draperies. Enter, Kael.

A slender youth in his late teens with curly hair woven into intricate braids dusted with silver stepped inside, bowing his head. He had tattooed bands etched with arcane, shifting runes and sigils on his wrists and neck. They spoke of the deep mysterious energies he could channel and shape through his extensive training.

He wore the simple robes of one granted the hallowed title of Aetherscribe, marked by fate to carry the lore and secrets of House Veridion as they returned to dominance. No easy burden for one so young. And since the Cataclysm had taken all the rest, he was the sole Aetherscribe remaining to Lord Vaelor now. The entire legacy of their house rested upon Kael's slender shoulders alone.

Councilors from houses all across the realm gather at the Broken Concordia in the ruins, my lord, Kael reported. Rumors spread of a prophecy recovered from the ashes and rubble. All claim you must attend.

Lord Vaelor rose from his chief seat with a weary sigh, the carven wood creaking. He reached to his side for the ornate sword - Valiron, marked with runes of stability and vigor, long faded. The weight of lifetimes sat upon him.

And so history comes full circle, he mused in a voice like wind through leaves. But have the remnants of the Houses learned wisdom and patience? Or do they gather in desperation only, not truth? He turned his gaze out the wide window, across the drear expanse. We shall see.

Traveling to Veridion's borderlands was a treacherous and lengthy expedition. Lord Vaelor's royal caravan could only carry them so far across the harsh landscape before the horses began to tire and slow without fresh water. Past the petrified outer forests, they disembarked to traverse the rest of the barren lands on foot. relying on Kael's razor-honed skills and the power of his Aetherscribe tattoos to keep threats at bay.

Lord Vaelor walked with pride, his steps steady despite his advanced years. The long journey tested all their endurance, but the Lord of House Veridion marched on without complaint. His people revered him not just as the last living relic of a lost age, but as a towering symbol of Veridion’s strength. He was the Mighty Oak.

Though time may have bent Lord Vaelor’s back, it had not dimmed his piercing emerald gaze or dulled his mind’s edge. His voice boomed with undiminished authority as he tutored young Kael around campfires. He conjured vivid images of Concordia’s glory days long, turned to ash - soaring arched halls thronged with emissaries of all houses united in cooperation. The current reality seemed bleak, yet Lord Vaelor spoke of a potential revival of unity.

None who looked upon the imposing Lord of House Veridion could doubt that he had once walked and ruled among giant legends. Despite the ravages of time and tragedy, Lord Vaelor’s indomitable presence swelled to fill any space. His ancient eyes still glinted with steel, reflecting the pride and resilience of his lineage.

It stood in painful contrast with the desolate cratered plain they came upon at last. Once proud and vibrant, Old Concordia now lies in shattered remnants of stone foundations, showed by the drifting ash. In a place transformed by ceaseless windswept desolation, the remnants of the first historic covenant between the Houses stand, which were forged untold lifetimes ago... and later shattered.

In council, the Cataclysm struck the Concordium as the Houses gathered. None living knew now what weapons had ripped the world asunder. Enormous shields of the ancient Luminari colossi who stood vigil could only guard the people from the devastation.

Destructive shockwaves reached even distant realms, slaying most of those present during the Cataclysm. When the broken delegates limped home, they found only smoldering ruins where their shining cities had stood. Festering hatreds split them into warring houses, battling over scarce resources as famine and plague ravaged the land. They abandoned the Concordium’s failed ideals for survival.

According to legend, Lord Caerwyn Veridion, Lord Vaelor's Great Grandfather, was the sole survivor of that the intervening eons had erased lost golden epoch. Lord Vaelor’s people revered him as a living bridge back into their ancestors' wisdom, and Kael hoped the old lord's teachings might heal Eldermere. The child's prophecy seemed their sign of hope.

A circle of banners in all the colors of the Houses fluttered above this wasteland, showing the spot where each faction's delegation had established their camp. Perhaps ruins were a fitting venue to host talks of reconciliation between such bitter ancestral enemies after so long estranged.

The first guarded meeting between councilors began, full of lengthy recitations of grudges and blood oaths centuries old. But all showed uncharacteristic restraint. This gathering held a deeper meaning, tied back to the cryptic child's prophecy that had brought them to this broken place. The promise of salvation if they could cooperate again. None dared dissolve the parley before negotiations even begun.

Finally, the representatives spoke about their grievances and aspirations. Lord Vaelor leaned upon Valiron as he rose to speak first.

With a ragged but authoritative voice, he recounted the long-lost ancient pacts of the Concordium in these windswept wastes. And longer still since all Houses stood united as they did at the peak of Eldermere's glory. What power brings us all together again in this shattered place where our first unity failed?

As expected, the small pale child came forward then. Robed in undyed linen, nothing marked the diminutive figure as special without the scroll clutched in both hands. While exploring Old Concordia's ruins, I found scribings beneath the fallen stones.

A chorus of skeptical mutters rippled through the gathered representatives. The antiquity of prophecy's legend was not in doubt - indeed, many Houses taught it still as parable. Despite their long estrangement, few had imagined or dared to hope that they would try the rite of renewal again. Had desperation driven them back at last to wisdom?

Stoking those doubts, Lady Calypse, the current ruling matriarch of House Ignivox, rose to speak, fiery red hair tumbling down her shoulders in the echo of her infamous temper. You ask much of us, Veridion, she scoffed, arrogance lending her words an imperious air. Ignivox alone has kept the true flames of civilization and order lit through all the long, lonely years since our so-called allies abandoned us. Her words dripped bitterness and bile. What need have we now for their paltry help?

Lord Vaelor raised a conciliatory hand before tensions could erupt anew. "Come now, let us remember that none of our houses have prospered or made progress in true isolation.

The erstwhile rulers exchanged reluctant glances, pride grappling with desperation. Ignivox's domain had become a hostile volcanic plain that threatened daily to explode and bury their last settlements. Highmont's late harvests grew ever more meager. Each house was running out of time.

But none dared object to Vaelor's plea, for deep down, even Ignivox and the rest yearned for a reprieve from the endless twilight chill and encroaching desolation. If salvation promised, they could not risk dissolving this parley before it even began.

The gathering moved to disperse back to their respective encampments to confer among their delegations. Yet despite the lingering bitterness and dissent, an aura of fragile hope still hung in the ashen air above the ruins.

Every day of peace represented progress, even if it required years of trust-building for reconciliation and cooperation. This historic convocation marked that first pivotal step. That night, small campfires dotted the base of the crumbling walls like clusters of stars grounded, kindling cautious dreams of a future beyond mere subsistence.

The Luminari lingered in the dim glow outside the firelight, visible to all. had kept ceaseless vigil over these last few precious enclaves of life scattered across the blighted landscape since the fall.

Their ancient eyes were now kindled with fragile hope of their own. The Lost Luminari eagerly expected and guided the long-awaited day when their Ecospheres would unite and start afresh.

The Aetherheart's Call

Dusk filtered through the vaulted windows of the Concordium's grand assembly hall, casting the vacant chamber in hues of burnt amber. Kael's footsteps echoed across the vein-streaked marble floors as he made his way toward the towering wooden doors. The hands of countless diplomats have worn the carved grooves smooth over the centuries.

The immense chamber still seemed to ring with echoes of Lord Vaelor's impassioned last plea for unity between Eldermere's fractious houses. As Aetherscribe of House Veridion, the monumental task of bridging the ever-widening ideological chasms that divided the realms often fell to Kael alone. He felt the mounting weight of that duty pressing upon his shoulders now more than ever.

Lost in pensive contemplation, he nearly missed the approaching figure until she spoke. A moment, if you would, honored Aetherscribe?

Kael turned to see Councilor Thalira gliding from the shadows behind the hall's towering marble pillars, her rich emerald robes whispering across the stone floors. He stiffened. Of all the ambitious voices in the Concordium's assembly, the Sylvanleaf ambassador stirred both admiration and wariness within him in equal measure.

Of course, Councilor Thalira, Kael replied after a pause to collect himself and replace his meditative frown with a neutral expression. Though her serene features betrayed nothing, he glimpsed a strange urgency simmering behind her fathomless green eyes.

Drawing near, close enough for her soft voice to reach his ears alone, she lowered her tone to a melodious near-whisper. "Dear Aetherscribe, imagine if I were to inform you that a secret lies within your most treasured sanctuary, the beautiful Ecosphere that you have devoted your life to preserving.

Kael's pulse quickened at her cryptic words, his composure slipping to show a glimpse of naked surprise. The Ecosphere's sanctity and ecological preservation had always been his sole duty since the day he first donned the ceremonial robes of an Aetherscribe. That it could harbor this deeper hidden purpose known only by Thalira unsettled him. What could she mean?

Rallying to recover his equilibrium, Kael chose his next words with exceeding care. I confess, I was only ever taught what my predecessors deemed necessary for the Ecosphere's balance and protection. My sworn duty has ever been and will stay to keep its fragile equilibrium through tireless patience and care, allowing no tampering beyond what its complex web of life dictates.

Thalira's piercing emerald eyes bore into him for a long moment before she replied, her gaze seeming to pierce through to his soul. Meet me at sunset tomorrow, dear Aetherscribe, beyond the borders of the Whispering Glade, and I shall show all.

Before Kael could muster any semblance of a coherent response, she had already retreated into the shadows between the pillars. Her trailing gossamer robes whispering across the stone until the darkness swallowed her. An earthy fragrance reminiscent of fertile loam and ancient forest mosses lingered in the air long after her departure.

That night, vivid, unbidden dreams of luminosity and darkness plagued Kael's sleep. He saw flickering images he couldn't place or understand: a crystalline structure of alien geometry, pulsating with otherworldly crimson light as it sank deeper into the planet's embrace. Faceless shadowy figures locked in a furious battle over the strange relic, unleashing reality-rending power. A luminous seed falling from distant skies, coming to rest at the very roots of the land where it became intertwined with Eldermere's destiny over the arc of millennia.

He awoke before dawn, seized by a profound disquiet, his mind racing to process the mysterious visions. Thalira's cryptic words from the night before echoed through his thoughts as he donned his robes. Perhaps his sanctified Ecosphere, which he had sworn to protect at any cost, did harbor these long-buried arcane secrets dating back to the first days of Eldermere's formation. Secrets that certain forces now conspired to have for their own unfathomable ends.

Arrayed before the polished silver mirror in his bed-chamber, Kael took stock of himself. His youthful features were pale from a fitful sleep and his dark hair disheveled, but his eyes - blazed with newfound resolve. He would seek answers from Thalira, no matter the risks. His sacred duty had always been unwavering - to keep the Ecosphere's precarious ecological balance through tireless nurturing. Doubt now overshadowed the purpose he had dedicated to his life. Were deliberate secrets kept from him about his own life's work? He would not hide away in doubt and ignorance. We must take action. We must seek answers.

As the light of dawn rose to illuminate his chamber, Kael prepared his provisions for the journey ahead. He donned his ceremonial robes and chose a light haversack and packed preserves for sustenance. He could not recall the last time he had journeyed outside Veridion's pampered borders. But his duty propelled him onward, into the unknown.

As Kael passed beneath Veridion's outer defensive wall, the sun had risen, illuminating the city's estates and farmlands in golden light. He set off toward the sea of ancient wildwoods that marked the boundary with Sylvanleaf territory. Occasionally, he checked the map from the Concordium cartographer.

The journey was not long but took him farther from Veridion's tamed lands than he had ventured since his earliest youth. The well-trod dirt and cobblestone roads gave way first to winding thoroughfares used by local farmers and lumberers, then faded into winding deer trails leading into thick unbroken forests.

As the paths narrowed and the majestic trees grew ever larger and more densely clustered, Kael could feel the subtle influence of the woodland's presence pressing closer. It was like an