The Advent Flock, Children of the First Age, grew mad with vanity. What they called love was lust, adoration was envy. "To be like you, Eliel, WITH YOU, is our one desire!" They cried, but they did not love Him. They wanted to be more than Him, and beyond that. They altered their bodies, learned unholy magics, sacrificed friend and family, built impossible divine machines, all in their vain pursuits for a glimpse of divinity. They did not see the evils that they had become. Eliel saw the wickedness in their souls and the blindness in their eyes, they had not felt his presence in their hearts, his wind on their faces, his whispers in their ears. Eliel banished them from the realms of the earth to dwell far beyond the 'Deep Night' eternally. Their machines lay silent, their cities lay barren, and the world was emptied.

Mjirant was one of the few beings who, despite his immaculate power, did not yearn for more of it. The Architect's greatness in power was exceeded only by his humbleness, to him there was no stone too small, no idea too insignificant, no man too evil, no sheep too strayed. He looked for the purpose in all, including good and evil. "What use can the wicked have, if not to halt the will of Eliel?" They asked him, "Can love, joy, or holiness, resound from cries and bellows of death? Can chaos be turned to order? Folly to fortune? Can dark be turned to light?" Mjirant believed so.

"Who else to commission and craft the Edens of the Absolved, who else but the Architect. The heavens were laced with his design, though he took no credit, and etched no name."