The Second Time: Being an Account of the Wars among the Gods, and the Rise of the Arcanarchs

The wars of the gods were terrible. Mountains were cloven in two, seas drained away, plains and forests burned. Countless mortals died as the gods slaughtered each other. The power of the slain deities passed to their killers... except for one. Among the greatest of the fallen was Sirrenar, god of magic and custodian of the Arcanum, the conduit through which mortal mages and clerics accessed the power of magic. Viridex, god of war, coveted Sirrenar's portfolio jealously, and so fell upon Him while Sirrenar was engaged in another battle. Viridex successfully murdered Sirrenar... but could not take his power. The portfolio of magic, and with it custodianship of the Arcanum, vanished. Viridex searched every corner of the world, but He could not find it. He combed the Arcanum itself with every grain of power and divine perception at His command, but uncovered nothing.

Viridex attempted to conceal His failure to absorb Sirrenar's portfolio from the other gods, but could not. When His fellows learned of it, they took pause, for here was a consequence of their war they had never conceived of: the total amount of divine power in the universe had declined. Prior to this, the gods had thought that at the end of the war one of their number would stand triumphant, all-powerful, having gained all the portfolios of all the gods. Now, however, each was forced to confront the idea that, even should He or She claim victory, that victory would be incomplete. Who could say how many portfolios would be lost, should the conflict continue? So it was that by common assent, the wars among the gods came to an end in an uneasy truce. Each still coveted sole dominion over the world, but none could attack another for fear of further diminishing all.

Time passed. First years, then centuries, then millennia. Fears that the Arcanum would wither for lack of tending proved unfounded; indeed, the power of mortal mages grew at rates undreamed of in the First Time. Some grew so powerful as to approach the level of the gods themselves; such quasi-godlings named themselves Arcanarchs, and they ruled vast empires. One Arcanarch thought to slay a god, steal the divine spark, and become a deity himself; for his hubris, all the remaining gods joined together and laid him low, making it clear to all magi: seek not above your station. The reasoning of the gods was that if one of their own could prevail in battle yet lose the portfolio of the defeated, a mortal challenger would surely be incapable of seizing the divine spark and divinity would be lessened still further.

The Arcanarchs grumbled at this prohibition, but none believed themselves powerful enough to defy the gods united. They contented themselves with ruling over lesser mages and those who lacked significant magical ability. For the most part, this was a good era. The Arcanarchs were, in the main, reasonably enlightened, and did not rule with fear or cruelty. Their empires occasionally skirmished with one another, but outright war was prevented by the titanic power of the Arcanarchs themselves: each had the power to lay waste to vast portions of an enemy nation, but their hands were stayed by the knowledge that they faced opponents of similar ability.

At last, after centuries in which civilization spiraled upward, in which the powers of mages and clerics fuelled wonders like flying cities and vast golem armies, the Arcanarchs came to an horrific realization: the magic was going away. The flying cities drifted slowly to the earth, the armies of constructs fell over one by one and become inert. All the myriad minor cantrips used by ordinary people to save labor and make life easier ceased to function. Magic became hard. Spells that once were taught to teenaged students in magical academies became so difficult that only experienced magi could use them reliably. The Arcanarchs and their most accomplished servants delved into magic's deepest and most esoteric secrets in an effort to understand what was happening, and uncovered something terrible: their own magic, drawing on the Arcanum in ways it was never meant to withstand, had been degrading the conduit for centuries. Bereft of a custodian, the Arcanum was beginning to fray.

With the beginning of the decline of magic, the Second Time came to an end.