Unfortunately, there was only one short work done by some Maester from the Citadel Order, and there were not many mentions of the Age of Dawn. It was still, though generally agreed, that the Age of Dawn started with the birth of the first Ancient Gods.
The First Generation of Ancient Gods appeared one after another. The sky, the land, the sea, and the underground world slowly changed from disorderliness to orderliness.
After the supernatural races obtained a certain level of intelligence and had their own languages, creatures finally had some knowledge of history. The first language, Elvish, was created by the First Generation Elf King and the Dragonese by the First Great Wyrm of their kind.
Right now, they were living in the Year of Thelos 9,885 of the Sixth Epoch: Age of Gods.
And considering that the Age of Dawn was nearly 7,000 Years ago, this place was ancient, and most likely, its existence was only supported by the entity that was inhabiting this place.
At the same time, it seemed that only the city and its ruins were preserved in the merciless passage of time because as he advanced through the ruins of the underground city, for several hours, he didn't see anything else aside from the stones and rock.
Not even a single weapon or armor, for example.
Or perhaps even a piece of a gold coin if he had to be modest.
Some of the buildings appear to have been temples or churches, with large, shattered statues of something that seemed to be the main God that this city was worshipping because the biggest statues, even though partially destroyed, all looked the same to a certain degree.
Not only that, but there were also many other statues of Mythical Creatures, both familiar and alien, as their expressions were frozen in time. The statues of the Mythical Creatures were observing the city, watching over the ruins as silent sentinels.
Amidst this desolation, there is one structure that stands apart from the rest.
In the very center of the subterranean cavern, untouched by the ravages of time or decay, was a lone altar. It sits on a raised platform, carved from a single piece of smooth, dark stone, gleaming as though it had just been polished.
The altar was rather simple in design that, Valkorion had to admit, yet there was an unmistakable sense of power and purpose radiating from it, as if it held the key to some ancient secret long forgotten by the world above.
He recognized the stone, the material from which it was made from, because it was the Obsidian, or sometimes also called Dragonstone. It was the primary building material that the Valyrians used in all of their constructions.
Obsidian is harder than iron, steel, granite or even diamond. It was true Extraordinary Construction Material, created by the secrets of the Valyrian Magic and flames of a dragon, with the condition that it must be at the older dragon that was providing the flames, or else it would be impossible to create a solid block of Obsidian.
The stone seems to hum with an energy that pulses faintly, a heartbeat in the stillness.
Around the altar, the ruins seem to draw back, as if they are afraid to encroach on this sacred space. No debris littered the ground here; it is as if an invisible force has kept the area around the altar pristine, untouched by the decay that has claimed the rest of the underground city.
As Valkorion looked around, it was probably the only place in this city, that was in such perfect condition and wasn't destroyed or decayed. It was visible that someone was maintaining its pristine state.
There were also no signs of footprints, no marks of any living thing having come close to it in millennia. It wasn't that surprising, considering most probably the majority of people couldn't pass even the first test, less being said about the second one for the better.
It was highly possible that he was a single person who came here for the first time in the past seven thousand years or so. If such was the truth, it would be a staggering discovery that he would have to keep for himself for a very long time, or else the consequences would be dire.
Valkorion stepped forward in front of the altar, as he looked at the lone structure, isolated in its mystery, surrounded by the remnants of a world that has crumbled to dust.
Upon closer inspection, the altar also had several runes in the Dragonese, deeply etched into its surface, yet unweathered. Though this time, he couldn't read them at all because he sensed that every single one evoked a feeling of power.
The reverence and dread.
The holiness of True God.
In the center of the altar, there was a huge rune, bigger than the rest and beneath it, a shallow depression, perhaps meant to hold sacrificial ceremonies or rituals for the True God that this city was worshipping.
It wasn't hard to tell that this place was a very strict theocracy when it was still existing and alive because the altar of the True God was exactly in the middle of the city. Position as the most important structure in the entire place, which was also signaling the stance of the population toward the God they worshipped.
Fanatics.
Zealots.
As he stepped forward, he noticed something... the air around the altar was thicker, charged with an energy that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. It feels as if the space itself is alive, waiting.
Suddenly, he felt the gaze on his back more clearly.
It was observing him from the moment he entered this dammed place.
Ruins, where catastrophe befell this civilization, as the entire subterranean city perished under the passage of time, only the altar of the True God remained unscathed like it was made yesterday.
Someone would consider this entire place as a relic of a forgotten world, preserved not, but certainly remaining and resisting the passage of time as much as it was possible for it. It was a rather grim reminder of destruction and time.
Mortality... something that dreaded the young Valyrian too much.
The silence is deafening here, rather uncomfortable and disturbing if he had to say something about it. It was as if the cavern itself was holding its breath, waiting for the next chapter of its long-forgotten tale to unfold.
The underground space was enormous; Valkorion could see that even despite the colossal emptiness and crumbling ruins, it could probably fit some of the cities of the Earth of the 21st Century with millions of inhabitants relatively easily.
He shook his head as, unbeknownst to him; he was standing in front of the alter, looking at it intensively, with his dagger in his right hand as he cut his left hand and let several drops of his blood fall on the rune in the middle of the altar.
The very moment his blood came into contact with the altar, the entire subterranean world started violently shaking. Stones were falling apart, and many of the buildings that were previously barely holding together were now crumbling like a house of cards.