This slab of basalt, 12″×18″×4″, is somewhat worn, but a dense passage of text is still visible incised deep onto the surface. The tiny characters are in an odd dialect of Classic Orichalan, in a particularly boxy script that the party has seen in two ancient ruins. Oervind was able to decipher much of the text, specified below. Ellipses denote passages that are illegible. The slab went in Sender’s haversack, then on to further analysis at Feery’s Leap.

This stela is the first of seven, the testament of Shaih Hammarkis Anroulis Shining-Echo, holder of the keys of the Inward Gates, and …

How does a star commence to shine? Whence the river’s source? How long the boundary between sea and shore? Where begins this tale?

Though it is said that history is by the victors writ, let … linger. We were not wicked, who from godly obeisance strayed. We but sought to learn, to understand, to manifest that uniquely conscious yearning to grasp and hold the effulgent glory that is truth.

The godless temples of our people came to the Sighing Plains from the Thousand-Fingered Shores, seeds blown by fortunate winds across the Wine-Shadow Sea by hunger for … The seeds flowered into sturdy saplings… Our branches reached for the heavens, and our roots dug deep into the earth. We caught the sea’s breath in our branches, the sun’s kiss on our leaves, and the earth’s strength in our roots, and transformed … wonders. Man toiled on behalf of …, dragon learned respect, and even …

While … followed the Ivory Palace’s example … older ethoi and deeper lore. … bridge the worlds of our disparate understanding, forging chains … Such fools! Such hubris! We grew drunk on our success, and lost sight of our destination in the thrill of the journey. In our rush to save the soul of man, we forsook our own virtue. As a tree sundered from its roots… the echo … hangs in the air like the peal of a perfected bell, even these long decades later.

… studied astral structure, debated philosophy, unlocked the secrets … built an edifice of its lore, and climbed atop that mound to build another. Like the layers of a ziggurat, the rings of a tree, with each layer of embellishment we inched closer to the sky, heedless of the risk.

Twelve … our glory, rent the sky from its habits, and cast the world in a new light. … brushed the stars, the world seized and shuddered… shook to ruin.

It is gone, all gone. … turned hungry, and has devoured our glory. All … cast to the ground, dashed to dust. Mighty fey … all are gone. My … palace is enclosed by … teardrop sea. … even the gods turn away in shame rather than bask in their victory.

I carve this stone by will alone, and … withstand the scouring sands of time. Let there be a record of these days, that when the sons of dragons … again raise … to greet the sky… not as we did. … exonerate my soul, and to … Let each of these stelae find its way into wiser hands than ours.

Further analysis

The Three have been able to reconstruct more of the text – ### passages remain obscured:

This stela is the first of seven, the testament of Shaih Hammarkis Anroulis Shining-Echo, holder of the keys of the Inward Gates, and former instructor of ### ### in the White Gardens.

How does a star commence to shine? Whence the river’s source? How long the boundary between sea and shore? Where begins this tale?

Though it is said that history is by the victors writ, let some testament of ### ### linger. We were not wicked, who from godly obeisance strayed. We but sought to learn, to understand, to manifest that uniquely conscious yearning to grasp and hold the effulgent glory that is truth.

The godless temples of our people came to the Sighing Plains from the Thousand-Fingered Shores, seeds blown by fortunate winds across the Wine-Shadow Sea by hunger for a life free from ### and ### of blood-drenched politics. The seeds flowered into sturdy saplings, roots entwined by mutual need, sunk deeply ### ### ### Hailaris’ ethics. Our branches reached for the heavens, and our roots dug deep into the earth. We caught the sea’s breath in our branches, the sun’s kiss on our leaves, and the earth’s strength in our roots, and transformed the plains into a world of wonders. Man toiled on behalf of ### man, dragon learned respect, and even ### ### marveled at our dreams made manifest.

While our brethren on the Thousand-Fingered ### followed the Ivory Palace’s example of ### and depravity, we ### to older ethoi and deeper lore. ### ### bridge the worlds of our disparate understanding, forging chains of ### stronger than the foibles of the heart. Such fools! Such hubris! We grew drunk on our success, and lost sight of our destination in the thrill of the journey. In our rush to save the soul of man, we forsook our own virtue. As a tree sundered from its roots, so we crashed to the earth. The ### of our ### shook the world, and the echo of that ### hangs in the air like the peal of a perfected bell, even these long decades later.

Those ### ### who studied the flesh, those who studied the nature of mechanism and ###, and those who studied the ### life of dead ###, might have ### for centuries to come, were it not for those ### ### who studied dreams, explored the webs of ###, studied astral structure, debated philosophy, unlocked the secrets of mental manifestation, and harnessed arcana. Each school built an edifice of its lore, and climbed atop that mound to build another. Like the layers of a ziggurat, the rings of a tree, with each layer of embellishment we inched closer to the sky, heedless of the risk.

Twelve ### schools, the constellations of our glory, rent the sky from its habits, and cast the world in a new light. The hungry trees we planted grew too ###, too ###, to ### ### ###. When our branches brushed the stars, the world seized and shuddered. Instead of a ###, ### ### ### the axe of our own destruction. As we fell, so the world shook to ruin.

It is gone, all gone. The ### of our dream winked out. ### ### ### ### ### our Great Work, the air is turned hungry, and has devoured our glory. All who gathered in the canopy of our ### are cast to the ground, dashed to dust. Mighty fey kingdoms, thrumming cities, fastidious students in astral ###, all are gone. My ### palace is enclosed by a vast moat, a ### teardrop sea. We who ### ### ### have wrought such ill, even the gods turn away in shame rather than bask in their victory.

I carve this stone by will alone, and gird its ### to withstand the scouring sands of time. Let there be a record of these days, that when the sons of dragons and the sons of men again raise ### to greet the sky, they ### not as we did. ### ### ### history both to exonerate my soul, and to provide ### to ### ### who might read this record. Let each of these stelae find its way into wiser hands than ours.