It has happened before. A star from the heavens lances down upon an
unsuspecting world, devastating and destroying in a storm of fire and ash,
making oceans from mountains and graveyards from nations. Today, this event
is remembered not for its violent destruction, but for the thousand years of
darkness it created—darkness both metaphorical in the descent to barbarisim
and physical in the blotting out of the sun from the smoke and ash that blanketed
Golarion. It was the end of the Azlanti race, yet it was the genesis of another.
For as the proud Azlant fell, new eyes devoid of color and kindness opened in
the deep caverns of the Darklands. And as this new race prospered deep below,
its number swelling in secret, the seeds for a Second Darkness took root.