On the slopes of the Fanghan mountain range, a wall of granite and slate which towered over the surrounding grasslands, Kazhit was digging. A long and arduous search was finally reaching conclusion. He paused to listen to the wind howling as a gust of icy sleet pounded through the entrance of the dimly lit 'mineshaft'. "So close. So close. So close," He repeated over and over.

He attacked the soil with a renewed vigor. He was sinking his hands into the rough gravel and throwing handfuls of earth behind him. Kazhit laughed as he recalled a small rodent creature he had seen once performing the same actions. He was walking in the palace gardens and saw a beady-eyed face peer at him from the soil. He froze and suddenly screamed, "Get out of my head!"

Kazhit took a break from furiously tearing apart the earth with his bare hands to stumble back and lean against the rocky earth behind him. He chuckled to himself, "Delihlah would be horrified if she saw me right now..." He paused, "Who is Delihlah?" He hated memories. He prefered to have awful memories because they were the least painful. Good ones left him feeling like an enraged sewer rat was trying to claw its way out of his head through his eye. Staying focused on the present is the only thing which left him with some semblance of 'sanity'.

Kazhit peered out of the relatively short hole, around ten meters, he had dug by himself, brushing back his mane of stark white hair out of his one working eye. To call it a mineshaft would be generous, in truth, it was more akin to a burrow created by a wild beast to escape the tempest ravaging the mountain peaks. His hole was dug near the precipice of the peak named "Guldur's Folly", which was home to a number of crumbling ruins. Kazhit was forced to dig directly into the sheer cliffside of "Guldur's Folly" facing east, while the ruins he sought after rested on the west face. The Fanghan mountains were known for their towering peaks and for the deadly winds which made them impossible to sustain life other than scattered shrubs.

The winds blew down from the north gathering speed as they moved across hundreds of kilometers of grasslands. If there were not a storm, Kazhit should have been able to see all the way to the Eryth Sea. "How long have I been searching?" he asked himself, but he already knew the answer. "Too long...Too long indeed," he muttered and then suddenly cried out, "Too long!" into the the icy, black sleet pelting his face. As if to answer him, fingers of lightning stretched down from the heavens, striking an adjacent peak. He knew he was getting distracted as he giggled like a nervous virgin. As Kazhit began to return to the monotonous task of scooping dirt, he felt himself getting closer.

After the sun had risen and set again, Kazhit felt drained and his mind began to lull.

He saw himself on a battlefield, a sea of corpses and rot. Clouds of vultures were soaring overhead and besides the cries of the wounded which were carried for kilometers on the wind, it was eerily quiet. He was the only one standing, the only person that was not greivously wounded as far as he could see. A lone horse was dragging a corpse of a man who was torn in half from the waist up. He bent down to what looked like the corpse of young boy and turned it over to see its face. He heard somewhere that death was supposed to be peaceful, but this corpse had a grisly expression of horror and glassy eyes which seemed to beg for mercy.

Kazhit returned with a start from his dream. "Or was it a flashback?" He thought to himself. "I must have fallen asleep from exhaustion," he wondered as he picked his face off of the cold hard dirt floor of his mineshaft. After a moment's hesitation, Kazhit began to dig.

After he could only assume was several months of tunneling through utter darkness, Kazhit felt his long since broken fingertips push through the wall of soil which had become his universe. Being alone in complete isolation had done wonders for his sanity, but he quickly pushed his thoughts to the back of his head as he began to reorganize his jumbled thoughts. He had done it. He pushed at the wall of soil and felt it crumble away as incredibly bright light blinded him momentarily.

After a few minutes of adjustment, he peered from his tunnel into what appeared to be a chamber made of solid rock. He rolled himself onto the cold slate tile and studied the interior of this chamber more thoroughly. It was lit by a luminescent crystal attached to the ceiling. There was a large stone pedestal in the center of the room, and there was only one door to the room in which he sat in. Kazhit looked back from where he entered and saw that it was supposed to be a window. How old must these ruins be for them to be almost completely swallowed by the earth. "Almost as old as me," Kazhit thought grimly. He then realized how incredibly lucky he had been to crawl through the exact place where there was a window. For the first time in millennia, Kazhit felt like the God was smiling down upon him.

The man called Kazhithyas Ethule stood upright for the first time in six months. He was walking shakily for the first few steps, but soon fell into his natural gait as he approached the pedestal in the center of the chamber. On the stone pedestal rested a series of five concentric rings each with numerous symbols. "How novel," he chuckled as he looked at what appeared to be some sort of ancient, cryptic puzzle.

Without a second thought, Kazhit slammed his fist into the granite pedestal as it shattered like glass with the sound of an avalanche. He fell upon the pile of rubble he had created, searching for the treasure he sought. After a minute of frantic searching, the man held a dull, blue metal ball with intricate patterns etched into it. "Finally," Kazhit said slowly, "I have it, I have the Tear of God!" Kazhit began raving to himself, "But what if it does not work...What if I truly cannot die...Itwillworkitwillworkitwillwork...." He knew how this artifact functioned, but he did not know of its origin because it was perhaps the only thing still in existence which was older than himself.

Unbeknownst to Kazhit, the Tear of God was the last relic of an ancient race of elves, The Eleneot. It was forged by those with a black hatred in their hearts, and it seemed to hum with power. It had been used to wipe The Eleneot out of existence. The land was salted with the blood of an entire species. It had been sealed away in the crypt of its creators, but a certain man had just unearthed the single, most powerful weapon ever witnessed. Kazhit had come across the knowledge of how to activate it during one of his many lifetimes, and it was the only thing he still cared to recall. It could be activated with a phrase in the language of The Eleneot.

He hastily kneeled on the floor and pressed the Tear of God to his dirt encrusted forehead and whispered the incantation, "Bársule ther a'thyle" in the Old Tongue meaning "Let the Heavens weep". The man called Kazhithyas Ethule truly wept as he finally felt the embrace of the heavens as he felt the chamber around him crumble into nothingness. There was no sound as the entire Fanghan Mountain range was basked in a pillar of cleansing, white light.

Passing caravans would wonder for years how the mountain peak named "Guldur's Folly" seemingly disappeared in a fortnight.