From deep within my shadowed halls, I see and hear a great deal. Proclamations of momentous occasions in the lives of mortals. Trifles that are hardly worth their time and effort. Secrets that were not meant to be known. As of late, however, there is much banter about unusual weather.
What constitutes unusual weather? On the world of Nurion, that could mean many things.
It could refer to a tumultuous deluge barreling in from the sea, filled with thunder and lightning and rage, at the behest of Korag. The God of Strength, Storms, and Giants loves flaunting his power for those who tread the oceans, and even for those who don’t. Strength comes from knowing how to outlast the storm, and if you are unable to do so, then the Father of Giants will take no pity.
Perhaps the unusual weather instead hails from another plane entirely. A tear could have been opened in the fabric of reality, leading to the elemental Plane of Fire and allowing nothing but lava and cinders to fall from the sky for days on end. But who could rouse such an inferno? Take your pick. A scorned mage. A spiteful dragon. Or perhaps one who has simply gone mad and wants to watch the world burn.
The most unusual weather, in truth, is the Star Fall. The world of Nurion has seen nine Star Falls so far. Some say they come when Celestia weeps for her fallen dreamers. Others believe they are portents from beings beyond the known realms, trying to reach out to a world that is not their own.
I, along with many others, know for a fact that the Star Falls have marked the births of each of the nine Planeswatchers. First when Mordenkainen was born, along with the rest of humankind at the onset of the post-divine age, and most recently when the shadar-kai sorceress, Vizeria, was born within the Shadowfell. For all nine of them, there was a Star Fall.
The skies of Nurion have never otherwise crafted such ineffable spectacles. And Nurion itself will never forget them, as they have been branded into the land for eternity.
Yes, Nurion is no stranger to unusual weather. As of late, however, things have fallen quiet. And on this world, it is just as unusual for there to be no weather at all. The silent, solemn winds come as a blessing to some, and a bad omen to others. This has been the catalyst for much of the recent mutterings I have heard.
They speak of rest and they speak of terrible things to come. The calm before the storm, as it were. Before the gods bless the land with a bountiful harvest. Before the demon lords send their children to pillage and destroy once more. Before a summer of celebration. Before an endless season of war.
But if any of them cared to look more closely, just past the horizon, where certain things are not meant to be seen, they might see the shadow lingering there. It is not one of my shadows, as I am the master of them all, but I do not know this one.
This shadow is unusual, to be certain. It is long, rotten, and vengeful, reeking of something as old as life on this world—the life created by myself and the rest of my kin—could possibly be. And it yearns to return to this world, which it forsook ages ago. I am exceedingly curious to discover the source of this unusual shadow. But even more so, I look forward to discovering the foolish light that will attempt to cast it back into the void. That is something I dare not miss.
Yes, I shall be certain to note the unusual weather on that day. That and many other things.