It was bitterly cold when Brandyé awoke. All around him was white, and he could make little sense of what his eyes saw, or his fingers felt. A deep wind was blustering in his face, and he turned so that his back would shelter his front. Snow blew past him in great flurries, and he felt his feet rapidly grow numb.
Those few who were spared in Viura Râ were those who had sought protection under the roots of the high buildings, and Brandyé was among those. With him were Athalya and the Sarâthen, and some few of the Council of Erâth. The protection of Paräth had been paramount to some of these folk, though Brandyé could not understand why; to see such death and destruction wrought over such a thing brought nothing but tragedy to his thoughts, and for weeks he despaired.
With the destruction of the Mirèn came a great darkening of all the lands of Erâth. Over many months, black clouds spread from Aélûr and Cathaï—clouds that brought with them fire, disease, and death. Where Cathaï’s poisoned rain fell, plants withered, died and grew again, twisted and deformed. Many creatures died, and those that survived were changed from nature into savage and vile beasts, hungering for the destruction of all. Where Aélûr’s flame fell, forests were turned to ash and stone, deserts to glass, and fields were left barren and wild. And in those places that bore the brunt of both, they were were left sterile and desolate, and nothing ever returned there, nor ever grew again.
Satis Writes 