FirstEra The First Shadow on Paradise
Timespan: Years 451-1200 of the Era of Chaos
The First Troubling Signs
The decline began so gradually that it was initially dismissed as coincidence, a statistical anomaly that would surely correct itself given time. In the great record halls of ★ Lenthiri, the kingdom’s meticulous chroniclers first noticed that humans born in recent centuries were not reaching the venerable ages their ancestors had achieved. Where once the first generations regularly lived to see their 250th year, humans born after the 500th year of the Era seemed to reach their limits at 220, then 200, then fewer still.
Master Chronicler Aldwin Greyquill spent decades verifying the records, cross-referencing birth and death dates across all five kingdoms spanning nearly three centuries of data. His findings, presented to the Council of Five Crowns in the 650th year, sent ripples of unease through the assembled rulers. The data was undeniable: human lifespans were contracting with each passing century, and the rate of decline appeared to be accelerating.
Initially, the kingdoms’ greatest minds sought practical explanations. Perhaps it was a result of humans spreading across more diverse climates, their bodies adapting to new environments in unexpected ways. Maybe the increased pace of human civilization, with its constant innovation and expansion, was placing unseen stresses on human physiology. Noldruun’s magical scholars theorized that humanity’s growing connection to The Aetheric Weave (Magic) might be drawing from their life force in ways not yet understood.
Archmage Lyralei Starweaver, now in her 180th year and showing the first signs of the aging that had never touched the original generation, dedicated the full resources of The Kingdom of Noldruun to understanding this phenomenon. The Crystal Gardens hummed with divination spells and life-sensing magics as scholars attempted to trace the source of humanity’s changing nature.
The Deepening Mystery
As the centuries passed, the pattern became impossible to ignore. Humans born in the 600th year of the Era were living no more than 180 years, while those born in the 800th year seemed destined for lifespans of 150 years or less. The great leaders who had built the golden age had long since passed into legend, and their successors found themselves ruling over a people whose relationship with time itself was fundamentally changing.
The Academy of Natural Philosophy in Verdant Reach launched comprehensive studies comparing human physiology with that of other races. The results were troubling: while elves, dwarves, and other long-lived races showed no similar decline, humans alone seemed caught in an accelerating spiral toward shorter lives.
Master Healer Cordelia Lifeward of Caernast documented the physical changes accompanying this phenomenon. Humans were not simply dying younger - they were aging differently. Where the first generations had maintained their vitality well into their second century, newer generations showed signs of decline much earlier. Hair silvered sooner, joints stiffened more quickly, and the bright spark of curiosity and innovation that defined human nature seemed to burn more intensely but for shorter durations.
The Silent Libraries of Sylmaran Ruins became repositories for increasingly desperate research into longevity, life extension, and the fundamental nature of mortality itself. Scholars who had once pursued knowledge for its own sake now found themselves racing against time to understand a mystery that touched their very existence.
The Growing Urgency
By the 1000th year of the Era, the reality could no longer be denied or rationalized away. Humans were experiencing a fundamental change in their nature, and no amount of magical research, medical intervention, or divine intercession seemed capable of reversing it. The lifespans that had once stretched comfortably across two and a half centuries were contracting toward a mere hundred years, and the trend showed no signs of stopping.
This realization brought with it a profound shift in human consciousness. Where once they had approached life with the patient perspective that came from expecting centuries of existence, humans now began to feel the pressure of time in ways their ancestors never had. Projects that might have taken decades to complete suddenly seemed urgent. Relationships that might have developed slowly over many years compressed into intense, passionate connections.
King Magnus Swiftstride of Verdant Reach, who had inherited the throne from his father at the unprecedented young age of 60, embodied this new urgency. Under his rule, the kingdom’s expansion accelerated dramatically. New settlements were established at a pace that left even human engineers struggling to keep up with demand. The patient, sustainable development that had characterized the Golden Founding gave way to rapid growth driven by the knowledge that time was more precious than anyone had realized.
In The Kingdom of Lenthir, agricultural innovation reached a fever pitch as farmers and scholars worked frantically to develop crops that could feed growing populations in shorter growing seasons. The kingdom’s famous patience and methodical approach began to give way to a drive for immediate results that sometimes sacrificed long-term sustainability for short-term gains.
Noldruun’s magical researchers pushed the boundaries of safe experimentation in their desperate search for answers. Spells that had been theoretical concepts for generations were suddenly being tested with an urgency that concerned even the most dedicated scholars. The Great Observatory operated around the clock, its astronomers searching the stars for signs of cosmic forces that might explain humanity’s changing fate.
The First Stirrings of Discontent
As humans struggled to adapt to their contracting lifespans, an uncomfortable awareness began to grow regarding their relationships with other races. The elves of Aelarion (Pre-fracture) remained as ageless as ever, their longest-lived members having watched the rise of human civilization with the detached interest of beings who measured time in millennia rather than decades.
What had once been a source of wisdom and guidance now began to feel different to human eyes. Lady Silviana Moonwhisper, who had blessed the original human exodus over a millennium earlier, remained unchanged while dozens of generations of human leaders had lived, ruled, and died. The dwarven craftsmen who had trained human apprentices century after century showed no signs of aging, while their human students grew old and passed their knowledge to generation after generation of successors.
Ysalyn, now approaching her sixth century of life and reaching full maturity by elven standards, found herself in the unique position of watching this transformation unfold across multiple human generations. She had known humans who lived the full span that their race had originally enjoyed, and she had now watched several generations of their descendants face the reality of progressively shortened lives. Her own extended lifespan gave her a perspective that few others possessed, and she began to understand the growing tension that was building within human society across the centuries.
The Council of Five Crowns meetings, once celebrations of human achievement and inter-kingdom cooperation, began to take on an undertone of urgency that had never existed before. Discussions that might once have been tabled for future consideration were now addressed immediately. Long-term planning became increasingly difficult when no one was certain how much time they had to see their visions come to fruition.
Trade relationships, while still profitable and generally amicable, began to shift as human merchants pushed for faster negotiations and quicker results. The patient give-and-take that had characterized human diplomacy started to give way to a more aggressive approach driven by the knowledge that human negotiators might not live to see the long-term benefits of extended negotiations.
The Quest for Answers
Desperate for explanations, human scholars began reaching out to the most ancient and knowledgeable beings they could contact. Delegations were sent to the elemental enclaves seeking wisdom from beings who had existed since the dawn of creation. Diplomatic missions ventured into Liralor, the Feywild hoping that the timeless realm might hold secrets about the nature of mortality and longevity.
The Order of the Flowing Stream and other monastic orders dedicated themselves to understanding the connection between human life force and The Aetheric Weave (Magic). If humans were somehow drawing too heavily on their own vital essence, perhaps the techniques that allowed monks to bridge their life force with the weave could be adapted to preserve rather than expend human longevity.
Master Kael Innerlight, now ancient by the new human standards but still sharp in mind and spirit, theorized that humanity’s changing nature might be connected to their role as children of balance. Perhaps the cosmic tension between Almariel, Lady of Light and Vorthar, The Dark Weaver that had given humans their unique nature was shifting in ways that affected their physical existence.
Expeditions were mounted to The Ythraewyn itself, hoping that proximity to the tree that had given birth to their race might provide insights into their changing condition. These pilgrimages became increasingly common as humans sought any possible connection to their divine origins that might explain or reverse their declining lifespans.
The Changing World
As human lifespans continued to contract, the very nature of human civilization began to transform. The careful, long-term planning that had characterized the Golden Founding gave way to a culture of immediacy and urgency. Art became more intense and emotional, reflecting the compressed passion of lives that burned brighter but briefer than before.
Architecture evolved to favor projects that could be completed within a single generation rather than the multi-generational masterpieces that had defined earlier eras. The Spiral Towers of ★ Ithilvaeth remained magnificent, but new construction focused on buildings that could be finished and enjoyed by their creators rather than left as legacies for future generations.
Literature and music took on themes of mortality and the precious nature of time that had been largely absent from human culture during their longer-lived past. Poets wrote of seasons that passed too quickly, of love that must be seized before time ran out, and of the bitter knowledge that every moment was more precious because there were fewer of them.
The human approach to education began to change as well. Where once young humans had decades to master their chosen crafts under patient mentors, the pressure of shortened lifespans drove the development of accelerated learning techniques. Knowledge that had once been passed down slowly over generations now had to be compressed and transmitted with an efficiency that sometimes sacrificed depth for speed.
The Seeds of Future Strife
By the end of the Shortening period, humanity had adapted to their new reality with characteristic resourcefulness and determination. They had compressed centuries of living into decades, accelerated their pace of innovation and achievement, and continued to maintain their position as one of Eldara’s most dynamic civilizations.
Yet beneath this adaptation lay a growing current of unease that had not existed during the Golden Founding. The easy relationships with longer-lived races had been strained by the fundamental inequality of lifespans. The patient, collaborative approach that had built human civilization was giving way to a more urgent, sometimes aggressive pursuit of immediate goals.
Most troubling of all was the growing awareness among humans that they alone among the thinking races seemed cursed with this accelerating mortality. What had once felt like a shared existence with elves, dwarves, and others now felt like a race against time in which humans were condemned to run while their former equals could walk at their leisure.
The questions that had driven human scholars for two centuries remained unanswered. Why were their lifespans contracting? Was this permanent or temporary? Could it be reversed, or was humanity destined for ever-shorter existence? And perhaps most painfully, why did they alone among all the races of Eldara seem to be facing this mysterious curse?
Ysalyn, now fully mature by elven standards and having witnessed nearly eight centuries of human transformation, found herself uniquely positioned to understand both the human perspective and that of the longer-lived races. She had seen how the gradually shortening lifespans were fundamentally changing human culture over generations, making them more urgent, more passionate, and unfortunately, more prone to the kind of desperate decisions that could lead to tragedy.
As the Era of Chaos moved into its next phase, the foundations had been laid for greater troubles to come. Humanity remained strong, innovative, and capable, but they were no longer the patient, collaborative people who had built the Golden Founding. Time pressure was transforming them into something more urgent, more desperate, and perhaps more vulnerable to the darker influences that had not yet revealed themselves.
The Shortening had ended, but its effects would ripple through human civilization for generations to come.