Ten worlds of old the Father made. Nine now ring to his Son their accolades. Many years ago, civilizations flourished, princes were born of royal blood, and wickedness grew. Pride was their downfall, for their hearts were lifted up, from the Emperor's golden palace to the beggar at his gate. The fire in the temple burned day and night, as did the Great Lighthouse over the harbor and the Lamp in the Tower of Dormin. An eternal city with three eternal flames, they said. The capital of the entire world would always grow in splendor and power as long as the fires were lit. Nothing could touch them-nothing.... Or so they thought.