Following the First Migration, the Aôlerian settled in lands they named Toriath, which means “Prosperous Home” in the old tongue of the Elves. Toriath was home to many Fey, that most ancient race of beings that had called Jhordunne home for millions of years. For millennia the two lived in harmony, with the Fey teaching much to the Aôlerian. Over the many years, however, many of the Fey began to look upon the Aôlerian more as servants than neighbors. They demanded more and more of the Aôlerian, even going so far as demanding Aôlerian children be given as tribute. The Aôlerian chafed under this subservience and unrest grew.
After 2000 of peace, the Aôlerian rose in rebellion. For three hundred years, they hunted and slew the Fey in such numbers until only a handful remained in Toriath. Even the arcane magic of the Fey was no match for Aôlerian fury. The Aôlerian had learned the particular weaknesses of the Fey, such as how black iron burns them or that sunlight reduces their magical abilities, and used those weaknesses to their advantage. The Fey that remained either fled to the dark places of Toriath or left Toriath, altogether. After centuries of slaughter, the Aôlerian were free.
The immortal Fey have long memories and hold grudges even longer. They neither forgot nor forgave what the Aôlerian had done. It took nearly a thousand years to regain enough strength, long after the Second Migration, but these ancient beings used deep, forgotten magics given to them by their Primeval gods to curse the Aôlerian. Every one of them was afflicted with a madness that starts when they are a few hundred years old and deepens as they grow older, until they are nothing more than a mindless husk, awaiting death. Some go insane slower than others, but it eventually takes them all. The Aôlerian named this curse The Wither.
Their immortality already taken by the Gods after they Yrch Blasphemy, the sorrow of the Aôlerian only increased, almost to the breaking point. Aôlerian culture declined. Their cities crumbled around them. The once beautiful music they made took on dissonant, melancholy tones. It would take another five hundred years for the Aôlerian to abandon Toriath and sail across the ocean to what is now Sai Torgath, where they began again.
There are two curious notes about The Wither: First, the madness stops progressing with death. While this may seem a pointless observation, it has great implications. Those Aôlerian raised from the dead no longer progress in their madness, though they are every bit as mad as they were in life. This has led several Aôlerian, powerful in necromantic magic or wealthy enough, to slay themselves before The Wither can progress too far and return as the undead. Second, The Wither seems to provide some protection against Corruption. While the Aôlerian are not immune, they are far less affected by it than other Ancestries. Unfortunately the cost is their minds.