The Age of Myth was the first great epoch of the Mortal Realms, born after Sigmar rode the World-That-Was into the shining vault of Azyr and found eight infinite realms waiting to be claimed. In those luminous centuries the God-King walked openly among mortals, gathering a pantheon of deities and daemon-gods to his side. Alarielle raised living forests, Grungni forged wonders beneath the mountains, and the Great Alliance bound divinity and mortalkind into a single ascendant civilisation.
It was a time of pacts and wonders. Sigmar unlocked the arcane secrets of the realms, tamed the storm-drakes, and struck bargains with beings older than the gods themselves. Cities of impossible splendour rose across every realm, and mortal tribes flourished beneath the protection of their patrons. Even the Sylvaneth counted this the springtime of the world, when the Everqueen's soul-pods quickened in unspoiled soil.
Yet every dawn casts long shadows. The gods grew proud and divided, quarrelling over dominion while the mortal realms fattened into tempting prey. Beyond the edges of creation, the Dark Gods watched the feast that Sigmar had unwittingly laid, and made ready their invasion.
When at last the Chaos hordes poured through the realmgates, the Age of Myth ended not with a whisper but with the shattering of every alliance. The golden age would be remembered only in ruins and half-forgotten legend, mourned by those few who survived the darkness that followed.
The chronicle continues
