Reading the Weave

For the next few days, they lingered over the ridge to watch the sun and moon fall over the horizon, gathering arcana to help stabilize the energy in their core. There wasn't much to stabilize, but neither of them wanted to build a castle on sand. All it took was a single bout of carelessness for the Arcana to invert on itself through the meridians and kill them. 

It was a well-documented trait among geniuses and, oddly enough, the main cause of their death among them. Tarvloc, the Black Death, had fallen to such fate. He, like few others, was a Chosen of Iluthath, born with the Bones of Heaven integrated into his genes. 

Born a mortal, he flew through the realms seeking power where he should have sought stability and paid dearly. Tarvloc was a Grandmaster. A feat few could achieve, fewer yet across the Twelve Realms. Yet he fell to hubris. Exploding mere mountains after he became a Demi-God, shattering the Trubluation that sought to end him. He fell to himself.