Varanan had been one of the portions of the continent that Vorlan left to his disciple, Aberos. Though he was supposed to be without his biases, the Earth Angel could not help but give in to where his true affections rested and predominantly focused on the world's forests. He left the waters to Cyrona, the mountains to Gorondos and Omonrel, and the fertile prairies to Tathyk. Aberos had gladly taken upon the task of crafting and populating the humbler deserts and other sparse and barren lands of the world.

For Aberos, the world's desolate places offered a peacefulness not unlike Ceuna itself in happier times. The western coast of the world's primary continent, a place called "Varanan" by both its inhabitants and outsiders, was such a tranquil isolated location. The native Varanians, spindly reptilians Aberos and Jagreth had created together, had created a thriving society amidst their preferred dry and hot climate. While the Varanians had spread as far east as Methrangia itself, Varanan was their true homeland and most mortals were happy to let them have it.

As Aberos floated toward the deep subterranean burrows belonging to the Varanian chief, he thought of all of the times that he offered to give greater treasures to his beloved scaled creations. In the past, those Varanians living in their homeland simply answered, "So long as the sun keeps glowing, we have all that we need." Aberos smiled at that thought. It was so blessedly pure compared to the machinations of mortal beings elsewhere.

Two Varanian guards, both with deep indigo scales, skittered from the burrow's entrance, their four legs furiously running across the hot sand and rock. They leapt to stand of their strong hind legs and balanced themselves with their tails.

"Chief Besix is always happy to see you, friend," one of the guards said in his raspy voice, its long tongue slithering out from its narrow snout while its yellow eyes widened joyfully.

Aberos nodded with a smile. He ever appreciated the Varanians not heaping needless titles upon him. "Friend" was plenty.

He closed his eyes as he floated down through the Varanian chief's burrows. Though it was a labyrinth that few mortals could possibly navigate, the angel's memory of its narrow twists and turns was flawless. Beyond that, he could sense where obstacles would present themselves and could adjust the size of his mortal form as needed to effortlessly float through the odd meanderings of the tunnels.

At last, he came to the chief's reception chamber. It was a cramped chamber, hewn from the rock and dirt all around it. Aberos opened his eyes and looked upon the Varanian chief. Besix laid across a large smooth rock in the dark. Ancient by Varanian standards, Besix had recently celebrated his sixtieth year since he burst forth from his egg. His sagging skin and dulling red scales showed it.

"My friend," Besix greeted the angel with a wispy hiss of a voice. The chief's luminous yellow eyes lit up. "It's been years."

"Seven," Aberos replied. "Almost to the day."

"Your kind's memory is always disturbingly precise," Besix laughed with a wheeze. "It must be nice not to forget things."

"There are costs you may not appreciate," Aberos wistfully mumbled.

Coughing, Besix nodded to acknowledge Aberos's lament.

"One thing I have not forgotten, and my people will never forget, is what we owe to you," Besix's voice crackled. "And I'll be happy to pledge us to the High Angel's cause."

Surprised, Aberos glided slightly closer to the Varanian chief.

"I had not yet asked for that," Aberos said with a smirk.

Besix tilted his head playfully.

"It was obvious why you came here," the Varanian leader said with a flick of his tongue. "I try to keep these lands out of things like that, but it's not easy these days. Besides our thanks to you, do you know why I was so keen to side with Forynda?"

"I had wondered as Jagreth was also responsible for your creation," Aberos said, his voice growing sad as he considered Jagreth's betrayal and his now common cause with Omonrel.

"It is not because I or any of my people here have any strong affection for the High Angel. She's never visited us nor spoken to us," Besix coughed. "That's part of her appeal, really. She is content to let us be. You might not appreciate just how attractive that is to us."

Aberos nodded his head.

"I do. Serenity is the most pleasing part of the angelic realm, at least for me," he said.

"So that's why we are the way we are!" Besix chuckled. "Your love of quiet was imprinted on us!"

The chief's keen observation drew a warm smile from Aberos.

"So many of this world's features reflect our attributes, both positive and negative. I am so pleased that that my contribution to your kind was this and not something I would regret," the angel said humbly.

Besix scratched at his eyes with his rear claws, knocking away some stubborn shedding skin.

"Well, there were some shortcomings," the chief pleasantly chided Aberos. "But not enough to make self-rule any less appealing and that's why we'll fight for you and Forynda."

"I am grateful," Aberos happily acknowledged the chief's offer. "The war may be over soon, however. I came here as a contingency, but Forynda's presence may well bring the world to heel and my wayward brethren back to Ceuna to await their punishments.”

Besix shook his head and used his long claws to point to a path to a chamber off to the left.

“My most trusted shaman doesn’t think so,” Besix cryptically intoned. “You should speak to her. She’s convinced that neither she nor I will see the end of this.”

Aberos’s instinct was to turn away the offer and instead be on his way to other peoples and races. However, it would be impolite to refuse and, beyond that, the mysterious implications of what Besix said had tripped his curiosity. He swiftly glided into the small chamber where the elderly female Varanian stood proudly over an assortment of bones and blood.

“Ah, an angel of Ceuna!” she happily announced. It was then that Aberos saw that she only had one eye, with the other missing entirely. “Happy is your presence here now, but unhappy things are coming.”

She grabbed the bones in front of her and shook them in her clawed hands before releasing them again onto the ground. Aberos observed the entire spectacle with curiosity. He had no doubts about the veracity of Simel’s visions or those of the mortal Emperor Rohmhelt after the events that had transpired, but none of their premonitions involved such odd rituals. The shaman, however, seemed quite certain of what she was doing.

“Dead things tell many tales. Things that were, are, and shall be,” she cackled in delight. “And these, angel of Ceuna, they tell me the same things every time.”

“Visions? I have heard those from Simel before,” he responded cautiously.

“I don’t see it. I can feel it. I can smell it. I can taste it,” she hissed, her tongue flicking rapidly. “Conflict. Grief. Death. Darkness. So much darkness for so many.”

“You speak of war.”

“Far worse than war,” she replied. “And, this is so strange, but I sense all of this much clearer in your presence. It’s from you.”

“From me?” Aberos inquired, his anxieties heightened by the shaman’s pronouncements.

“Yes. Oh yes. I have never been this certain,” she said, stepping closer to him on all four legs before standing upright next to the angel. Her one eye took on “There is so much despair in your future. And violence. And… darkness. Darkness most of all. Agony and anger. Wrath. Rage like I have never seen. I used to think I envied the angels, but I pity you. None should have to feel what I have felt from your days to come.”

He wished to dismiss this as naught but the rantings of a demented old Varanian, but he could not do so easily. Not after all that had happened.

“Will this happen soon?” Aberos asked.

“These are things both close and distant,” she cried and trailed off before she turned away, sulking back to her original position. “Some feel as close as the next sunset. Others, more than my lifetime away. I am so sorry for you. Yours seems set to be a path of unfathomable ruin, Aberos.”