The Last Stand of Ehr’Ishin

As my guide led me through the massive gates of Ehr’Ishin, I could feel the unmistakable rush — the energising presence of mana — flow over me. 

 

Power. That was what they held here, hoarded behind the shining pillars of the temples of the Elements. 

 

What used to be temples, I corrected myself. 

 

Across all the Elemental Plains, there was no bastion of the Exalted as mighty as Ehr’Ishin, with its white walls towering over fields and distant forests, and its spires reaching to the unflinching sky above. 

 

Despite the ongoing war, with word of cities falling and refugees flocking in every day, there was still a semblance of normalcy. Families browsed the markets and children chased their toys between the towering pale alleys. 

 

Yet soldiers and guards dotted every street corner, every parapet manned by the finest Exalted guards in their black striped armor. An ever-present reminder of the tenuous situation. Not keeping watch on the city, but waiting for the first sign — any sign — of attack. 

 

Therefore, the second thing that hit me after the invigorating flow of mana, was the collective tension in the air. Sure, the Exalted could play at living normally, but with the flow of refugees pouring in alongside me, there was no question as to how the war fared. 

 

And everyone knew it. From the smallest child to the oldest guardswoman, the rolling thunderclouds of war were surely making their way to Ehr’Ishin. 

 

Ah, but I was here for a reason.

 

Even as the alarms were sounded on the walls, and I was rushed forward, and the screams and pleads as the gates were closing echoed across the panic, and I was pulled from street to back alley, as the sounds of battle engines clashing against elemental monstrosity pierced the sky, and I was brought to the base of the great spire of Ehr’Ishin. 

 

The great spire.

 

Brilliantly constructed, a marvel of Exalted engineering with its great height, it towered over all else in the city. The center of technology and magical research.

 

That research being the sole reason Ehr’Ishin was still standing. Barely, from the roars and crunching of the battle outside. But standing. And so I would enter as the city trembled. 

 

Even as I lifted myself skyward with my escort, reflecting on the rush of researchers and guards desperate to create the next thing that would save the war — armor, weapons, creatures, as they no doubt had been since the war began — I sincerely hoped they would succeed, though I knew that there already was an answer. 

 

And we arrived. 

 

It was too perfect. They spared no expense letting anyone who saw it know that this was, indeed, the great artillery of the great spire of Ehr’Ishin. Covered in gleaming filigree and design, mostly ornamental, it was no surprise why they were struggling. Too many celestials and you end up with the prettiest weapon with no proper grip. Celestials building what came out of an Infernal’s mind. Story of the Exalted alliance right there, though they’d argue otherwise. 

 

But without them, we wouldn’t have made it this far. Together. 

 

I was here to see it through. To finish my design. To save us from our gods. 

 

New glyphs and runes were drawn around the artillery, connecting it to the city, the mass of mana available. Threads of mana were snapped, unwoven, and rejoined. 

 

And so, when the storm burst and the Elements themselves came through to crush fair Ehr’Ishin, when their flaming boulders and thunderous strikes assailed the walls and shields of the city, here because their pride demanded that they see their own work undone, the cannon was set. There was no use praying that the weapon would work, for it was turned upon our creators. I looked down at the city in turmoil — chaotic — in the throes of battle for survival. 

 

And there would be survivors. Not here. But elsewhere in the Plains. Those that stayed low in the shadows, in the deepest caves, under the tallest trees. And they would be free. 

 

We aimed the artillery. I completed the spell. 

 

As I feel my threads of mana unravelling, I hear surprise, acceptance, fear, from the Exalted around me. 

 

This miracle weapon had a cost to win the war. The power to quell our creators required a source. The people of Ehr’Ishin would defend it with their lives, and push back the onslaught of the Elements.

 

And as I fade way, I just hope it will be enough.