The Serathi had cemented their dominance over the continent of Cualareth, but the silence brought by victory was also the harbinger of a great exhaustion. Both the Elves and the lizard-folk had paid a heavy price for their struggle; they were too worn down to immediately execute the Serathi's grand plans.
Foreseeing this state of affairs, the Serathi decided to first bring order to this conquered realm. As if a single line on a cosmic map separated nations, they divided the ancient continent into two. The northern half of the continent, covered with forests and misty mountains, they named Qualar, the "First Home," in deference to the ancestral lands of the Elves, and left it under their governance. The south, where untouched jungles gleamed under the sun and sacred pyramids arose, they named Altalqua, the "Sacred Land," as an allusion to the unshakeable faith of the lizard-folk.
Then, the first command of these new lords from the stars echoed across the entire continent. It was a simple, clear, and absolute decree—three pillars forming the foundation of the new order:
"Unite. Cultivate. Endure."
As the Serathi intricately wove their plans for the future, they chose the Elves as their primary instrument. They had observed the ceaseless curiosity in their star-gazing eyes, the fire of adventure within their hearts. When the time was right, they were the most suitable folk to carry civilization to the unknown lands across the oceans. The lizard-folk, conversely, were a race rooted in their ancient soil, fiercely bound to their traditions. To force them to abandon their homeland might shatter the very foundation of their faith.
While this new order was established on the continent of Cualareth, the Serathi were not idle in the silence of the cosmos. Their grand plans were not limited to a single continent. New starships, answering their call, began to materialize in Ferosia's orbit like silent and deadly shadows. But these newcomers were not scout vessels like the first. Beneath their metal hulls, they carried weapons capable of leveling cities. And the Serathi would not hesitate to use these arms.
Their first targets were the ancient and arrogant masters of this world. They dispatched envoys to the Dragon Lords one by one, demanding their submission. The Dragon Lords refused them. Some turned the envoys away with ancient laughter; others—in an arrogant indifference—lapsed into silence, not deeming these new species worthy of their consideration. Yet, this time, the Serathi were prepared not for a refusal but for the inevitable conflict.
When news of these initial assaults reached the other continents, the remaining Dragon Lords accused the slain of being old, weak, and careless. To them, it was a natural culling in a world where weakness was unforgivable. Indeed, ambitious young dragons flocked to Ethralis to seize the territories vacated by the fallen lords. But they, too, could not withstand the lethal weapons of the celestial hunters for long.
The Serathi were, in effect, preparing the continent of Ethralis for the arrival of the Elves.
This systematic slaughter continued for a full 217 years. With a patience spanning over two centuries, every dragon that entered the skies of Ethralis perished under fire opened from the starships. Yet, an unforeseen and unplanned side effect was changing the very fabric of the world forever.
The Serathi starships used mana as their power source, and every moment they operated, the excess of this energy seeped into the atmosphere like invisible pollen. This centuries-long leakage began to slowly but steadily increase Ferosia's natural mana level. Until then, magic was an art only Rünin could perform, an unimaginable concept to everyone else. Mana, though present in every creature, was merely a faint spark, too meager to be used or even sensed. Now, it was becoming as breathable as the air itself, as drinkable as water. And the first to notice this change were the dragons, the creatures most attuned to magic by their nature.
In the year 4764 of the Age of Dragons, the Dragon Lords finally understood the shared threat and united in a single roar, deciding to declare total war against the Serathi. They would put the foreigners from the sky in their place.
Around the same time, the Serathi had fixed their gaze upon a new continent they named Montelira. They called this mountainous region the "Land of Mountains," with its high peaks and valleys draped in eternal mist. It was a stronghold ruled by dozens of powerful Dragon Lords. Seven small Serathi starships, unaware of the dragons' decision for war, materialized above Montelira's peaks.
It was at that moment that the apocalypse broke. The mountain summits suddenly sprang to life; the rocks and trees were, in fact, the scaled hides of hundreds of dragons lying in ambush. Hundreds of dragons moved as one body, attacking the Serathi ships simultaneously. The sky became a scene of anarchy where metal clashed with flesh, and fire with ice. That day, dozens of dragons crashed lifelessly into the mountains, but the Serathi were also caught off guard by this organized assault. To avoid losing their starships entirely, they were forced to retreat, heavily damaged but without the loss of a single vessel. They had experienced firsthand the new power and unyielding will of the ancient masters of the sky.
That merciless conflict, which went down in history as the "War for the Sky," began that day.
The Serathi called for more starships. The dragons, in turn, grew ever more skilled in their magic, utilizing the world's enriching mana with each passing day.
For a full 13 years, Ferosia's sky bore witness to scenes resembling hell. Even at night, the clouds, burning with flames, were illuminated by the light of breathtaking spells colliding with pure technology.
And after 13 bloody years, in the year 4777 of the Age of Dragons, the last dragons on Ferosia perished in that desperate final battle against the Serathi. The final roar echoed in the sky, and then came silence. With them, the Age of Dragons also came to an end.
Now, no power remained on Ferosia that could challenge the Serathi. The silence over the world was the echo of a massive void rather than a triumph. With the demise of the Dragon Lords, the political equilibrium of the lands was completely shattered, and every continent had descended into a pit of chaos, marked by the struggles of small, leaderless kingdoms and warlords.
This chaos was a perfectly prepared, fertile ground for the arrival of the Serathi's servants, the Elves. And the Serathi conveyed their long-awaited next command to the Elves of Cualareth:
"Launch the vessels that will carry your destiny across the waves, follow the dawn, and seal the end of the beginning."