At the turn of the third night, Mioverold shifted as an organism would – with unease, and under threat. It tremored at several regions, some with the aftermath of strange events even. But at Shadowmere, the Transitional World resisted, against a strength it had determined as foreign, unwelcome. It pressed to rectify a seal that had weakened beyond hope of …

In risen sun, the blades fell – a surrender that led to the confiscation of all things precious. Weapons and horses removed, the Relictan army now stood depleted of four thousand soldiers – substantial and powerful still, but of weakened hope and morale. They moved as prisoners, shackled and stripped of armour, with hearts chained to fear. Their eyes moved …

It slithered past the grass with corrosive effect, a fog – slow and unnatural; with the sky overcast, it moved within the embrace of darkness, of a night a few hours until sunrise. It probed for entry into Raskas, but halted without intent, restrained by an incomprehensible wall – invisible, and yet structured to the city’s defence. In the cursed …

It surfaced through the quiet night, the sound of a slow breeze – audible merely to those eager for the song. Atop dry leaves and short wood, a fire rose to the peak with the moon. It moved without restraint, the flames, at several parts of camp – a light to restless moths, an assembly of men and women driven …

Salt, it was a smell that the people had grown accustomed to in a particular part of the Godvildian Empire. Carried through the winds past fortified walls, it left its mark on armour and weapons alike. In the books, the world identified the place as Raskas – a port city built atop the ashes of the Great War, founded a …

When the story ended, a spell of silence blanketed the throne room of Arce Caelesti. Gale heard the breaths, his own – disruptively calm. His eyes shifted to Zane, and slowly, to the unoccupied seat within the room. He searched for answers, some from the story, and some through the effort of his intelligence. It stood there, the halberd that …

It flickered amidst the darkness – the soul-fire of Mallan Argonaut, bound still by the aeter remnants of Noxun restraints. But freedom, it was at hand; now possessed by a spell of inspiration, the soul-fire broke free from its limitations, returning to the aged path built by Aeterna. Untethered and without fear, the aeter essence had resumed its pilgrimage. Zane …

High Humans, a race once touted as weak – a race once neglected, before the madness of Castor Argonaut, their first, true king. They rose in prominence and influence, and fell just as quickly, at least in terms of how time flowed within Mioverold. But Mallan, Mallan Argonaut was different – a cursed king with limitless talent, a genius amongst …

As the moon rose to take its place amidst the stars, the aeter flow at Mel Ficarum altered, now unstable and corrupt in its composition. Through the night, it affected the Noxun people, mostly those of weaker descent. Fatigue at first, and then disease, the effects spread as wildfire would through a forest. It worsened with time, with the Noxun …

Twelve years after the attempt to reach the Altar of Seraphina Amidst the silence of Themistokera, Mallan sat atop a throne without an audience. Research, including aid from Mel Ficarum and Suntaria, concluded with little results; the aeter continued to hover above the floating kingdom, without aim or purpose. With a tilt, Mallan gazed at what once made his empire …