Tidal Wave

Born in 277 AC during the reign of Assura ruun-Caellach, Aroro Niski demonstrated exceptional Alteration abilities from a very young age, just like her older sister before her and her younger brother a few years later. While the eldest sibling, Nanha, dedicated her talents to architecture, and the youngest, Edire, gave himself entirely to the sciences, Aroro chose to join the Yzmir, seeking to explore the hidden mechanisms of the world and the secrets of the Aether.

Her natural aptitudes first steered her toward Kinemancy: with a snap of her fingers, she could summon a spark; with a flick of her wrist, she conjured a whirlwind. Like her peers, she manipulated the elements and the primal forces of Creation through codified gestures and surgically precise movements. Yet the virtuosity with which she made the Aether dance was unmatched—so much so that some believed she was destined for a brilliant future within the Faction, perhaps even a position where she might aspire to become Magister of the Sphere of Kinemancy.

But her inquisitive and wandering spirit decided otherwise. She flitted from school to school, ever hungry to learn and discover new things. While her classmates rose through the ranks of the Faction over the years, she chose instead to dedicate herself to the study of the other Spheres of magic, becoming a perpetual student of the Kadigir. One by one, she mastered Gephyromancy, Horomancy, Eidomancy... until she had fully grasped all Five Spheres of the Naali.

What some mockingly dismissed as intellectual gluttony—or a refusal to take on real responsibility—ultimately gave her an unparalleled understanding of magic. Where others saw dead ends, she envisioned a thousand new paths. By weaving synergies between the various Spheres, she was able to elevate each Discipline, unlocking their full power and potential through their skillful combination.

To Aroro, dividing the mystical arts into five branches made no sense. Only by studying them all in concert could one hope to uncover the world’s primordial truth. It’s hard to say how things might have changed within the Faction had she been allowed to further explore the mysteries of the Aether. Perhaps she would have founded her own school—or even an entirely new Discipline.

In 305 AC, at just 28 years old, she was the first to detect a disturbance in the Aether flows—at first, just a breeze, which she recognized as the harbinger of a cataclysm unlike anything Asgartha had endured since its founding. She tried to warn her peers, who in turn tried to reassure her: the archipelago had been protected from the Tumult for centuries; it was unthinkable that such a calamity could strike so deeply within such a stabilized zone.

Faced with the Magisters’ disbelief, she sought an audience with Basileus Iztamna ruun-Heeren. She waited for long hours in the halls of the Asterion, hoping for a meeting that never came. She tried to persuade the Aegis sentinels of the urgency of the situation, begging them to let her through... It is said that it was then that she turned back, her face stricken with dread. Perhaps she had glimpsed the horizon through the Palace’s windows. Perhaps she realized that time was running out.

When the tsunami struck, she was already standing on the city’s outer ramparts, at the southwestern edge of the capital. For hours, she had been inscribing Sigils along the walls, her eyes glowing brightly as her Irises scanned the distance. Around her, she had placed numerous Effigies, ready to be summoned at the last moment, while her voice called to the Aether, which swirled in spiraling eddies beyond the Veil. She had to work swiftly, and sweat poured from her forehead and temples.

When the wave of water and Aether crashed into the Vagheria foothills, it reshaped the rocky crests before cascading down the mountain slopes and flooding into the Muir Concordia. Around her, shouts and cries echoed as people fled, desperately seeking shelter. She began performing sequence after sequence of Signs; her fingers, her hands, her entire body adopting postures and forming shapes… Her voice thundered, crackling like lightning in a clear sky.

Aroro saw the sea swell and ripple, cloaked in turn with vegetation, crystal, fur—a cacophony of ideas made manifest. This furious, ravenous surge carried a thousand overlapping concepts, replacing, entwining, and chasing one another in an endless cycle of creation and destruction. The flood of ideas tore across the land, reshaping the terrain with a wrath not seen since the First City was built. Aether-tainted foam rolled toward them, sliding like an undertow, like a ravenous shark come to devour.

As the deluge bore down, Aroro stood alone before the Tumult, drawing on her last reserves to slow the boiling waves. She summoned the Eidolons with all her might, shattering the Effigies through sheer force of will. Ikenga, Caellach, Ganesh, Sakarabru, Achilles, Merlin, Hecate, Heshkari, Niavhe, Bastet, Amahle… In all, sixteen Eidolons answered her call, lending her their strength. They empowered her voice, gave her the energy to continue her frantic katas, and poured their power into hers…

The tsunami struck with a deafening roar. The Sigils she had layered around herself shattered one by one in the blink of an eye. Her voice was drowned and silenced under the crashing wave. The Eidolons around her were swept away, one after another, destroyed by the overwhelming force of the surge. Broken, on the brink of annihilation, Aroro unleashed all her energy—all the Mana she had gathered—in a counterattack as blinding as it was fierce.

She held out for several long minutes, chaining posture after posture in a dizzying rhythm. The wave broke for a time on the shield she had conjured. A brief time—because eventually, her silhouette disappeared into the merciless flood. But that precious moment allowed other Alterers to mobilize and organize. Each took responsibility for a small section of the city, creating pockets of stability around which the rolls of Aether crashed and broke.

Though the lakefront Districts and much of the Asterion were devastated, Aroro’s sacrifice drastically reduced the human toll and the extent of the destruction. As the waters receded and humanity began to heal, many survivors honored the Yzmir Mage’s sacrifice with thoughts, prayers, and tributes. Her feat spread like wildfire, passed from mouth to mouth, from tavern to temple.

The tsunami left behind cruel devastation. The Basileus had perished in the deluge, along with much of the government and a significant portion of the urban population. But rather than give in to despair, humanity proved its resilience by celebrating the joy of survival. Perhaps to exorcise the trauma, or to honor the fallen—Aroro became, posthumously, the embodiment of that resilience, of the survivors’ will to proclaim to the world that they were stronger than grief and desperation.

The new Basilissa, Ndidi Dewitt, hastily elected, ensured that a statue was erected in Aroro’s honor, towering over the waters with one hand outstretched, as if to hold back the waves. A lighthouse was built on the small island that had served as her final stand—transforming a tragic memory into a beacon of hope and restored safety.

It was likely this fervor that sowed the seeds of her rebirth as an Oneiros. The memory of that dark day endured for decades, and the stories that people told continued to be passed down through the ages. It was at the base of that lighthouse that she awakened once more to consciousness, recalled from death by the power of remembrance—as an icon, a revered heroine. She turned to the young woman who had unwittingly summoned her, to offer her the will to withstand all the trials life had thrown her way.

Joining the college of Oneiroï, she nevertheless harbored dark thoughts, which she eventually shared with her Faction. The tsunami, to her, did not feel like a random or natural occurrence—but possibly a coordinated attack from beyond. This time, the Yzmir Magisters did not turn a deaf ear and received her warning with gravity. It was indeed possible that this wave of destruction had been orchestrated—deliberately crafted to eradicate this pocket of civilization.

The announcement of the creation of the Expeditionary Corps was the signal she had long awaited—a chance to investigate the source of the tsunami: its origin, its architects… They could no longer sit idle in the face of a faceless enemy. They could not remain passive, vulnerable to another such strike. Though she feared what they might find within the Terra Incognita, Aroro was determined to shed light on the event that had cost her life—and so many others. It was a truth that needed to come to light, if humanity were to have any hope of confronting the threat.