“I climbed in almost the same place as you. That was the silent influence of the Fallen God, though back then I did not know its nature or form. And when I reached the top and stood here in amazement, the Sentinels emerged from their settlements and converged on me. This was a very different place back then, and the Sentinels were very different as well. They looked much the same as they do now—a strange race, for sure—but they were far more . . . civilized.

“Word spread, and more Sentinels came from all along the Divide. I was nervous but not afraid, because they exuded an air of wonder. They were amazed. It was obvious to me then that I was the first to reach the top of the Divide, though perhaps not the first to try.” He looked into the distance, as though the past still existed there. “You know, there were tens of thousands of them back then, their society as diverse as Noreela's. They walked tall and with grace, and were dressed in fine clothes, and carried their young in slings across their chests. They had art and writing, music, strange technologies I couldn't begin to understand, and still don't now. They worked with water and steam, air and fire, and they could do miraculous things. They taught their young to read. They could have taught us so much.”

“How could they change so quickly?” Nomi asked.

Sordon shook his head, sighing. “They took me in. Fed me, gave me water, tended my aches and wounds. And then a shaman came, one of their spiritual leaders, and he collapsed at my feet. Perhaps it was intentional. Maybe he had it planned, but he passed out as though he were dead, and woke again after seven days. When he came to, he seemed mad. I could hear him from my rooms, shouting and raging and crying, and they left me alone for a while as they cared for him.