Atzlan

“Heed me, Children of the Blood Mother, for again, I am among you. Though my eyes were struck from my form, I now see truly; though my arms lie in sundered ruin, I can again feel your presence. The Way of the Roots, the pathways between souls and worlds, has been made clear to me. Mourn not for me, for I am now made greater. Mourn not for our kind, for they shall find themselves carried to salvation through Her many arms. Our siblings struck down what they could not understand in fear and in pain. In time, they shall know their folly, and we shall again welcome them into this greater fold.”

— Atzlan, The Prophet of the Roots

In his former life, Atzlan was the Great Architect of the Shaped Form, a Zenith Lord of great import and reverence. Charged with honing and adapting the Iratek, Atzlan’s work was displayed on the broad shoulders of warriors, the elegant arms of archers, and the towering majesty of the great vine constructs tasked with safeguarding the Chorus.

During the Crisis of Many Days and Nights, the Zenith Lord struggled to maintain cohesion and harmony in the collective, feeling the growing doubt in Mala and the building rage of Odai. In the aftermath of The Binding, the ritual that saw Laculathon break into the realms of Creation, Atzlan sought to maintain a sort of unity within the Chorus. While wary of the Blood Mother’s alien origin, Atzlan saw the strategic potential of an alliance with the newly-transformed Mala and her “saved” sylv.

Odai’s defeat in the events leading up to The Binding, however, had set the stage for a reckoning, one that would see Atzlan’s ruin. With the Chorus reeling in pain from the loss of an entire Kingdom and the intrusion of Laculathon’s vast presence, the fear and fury of millions rallied behind the tempestuous soul that was Odai. When Mala offered the Covenant of Blood, Root, and Bone to her once-kin, she was answered with overwhelming scorn. When Odai manifested to destroy the newly transformed Mala, it was Atzlan who sought to stay his blade, and in so doing, was struck down. So great was the trauma and sacrilege of this act, that the Chorus broke under the strain, with two additional kingdoms severing themselves from the Iratek.

With great sorrow, the three Kingdoms carried Atzlan’s ruined form to the Forbidden Continent of Matzlan. There, at the base of the half-digested mountain where the Blood Mother had gripped the world, they prayed for their leader’s rebirth. In the shadow of the Many Worlds She Holds, the Martyred Lord was enveloped in sanguine amber and laid to honored rest. After three days, a familiar voice echoed throughout the grieving Aru.