Varnathi lay at the border of the Kingdom of Burm. Outside its borders the country was mostly known for one thing: the so-called Iron Will of its people. It was a land ruled by a council of warlords, each one the chosen champion of one of the seven great clans. Since Varnathi lay deep in the northern wilds of Pangrea, where the people were constantly at war with each other, it was one of the rare human countries where the Ecclesia Regnum struggled to hold real power.
The church simply had too much difficulty setting foot in such uncivilized and barbaric lands, so several of the ancient faiths had survived there. Some even openly competed with the Ecclesia.
On the other hand, Varnathi was so wild and so fractured that the Church of Light rarely bothered to invest the resources needed to tame it. There were simply more valuable lands elsewhere. But even without the full backing of the core lands, the Church remained one of the major players in Varnathi.
And although Varnathi was unimportant in the greater political landscape of the continent, it produced the most renowned mercenaries known to mankind. They were famous for their unwavering loyalty once hired, and for their terrifying ferocity on the battlefield. Their service was one of the country’s main exports.
Even more impressive was the fact that one of the strongest human warriors of this age sat on the Throne of Strength in Drathma, Varnathi’s capital. A warlord regent of unmatched physical might. Because of this, despite its lack of influence in world politics, Varnathi and its warlike people had always been a power one did not anger lightly. So, most nations preferred to let them tear each other apart in their internal struggles.
Drathma itself was the perfect breeding ground for organizations, guilds, secret societies, and every kind of shadowy group that preferred to exist unseen. Its streets were always filled, at every hour of the day, with people, slaves, soldiers, traders, mercenaries, and more than a few religious zealots. But most of its population consisted of burly, scarred, wild-looking warriors who constantly sought their next challenge.
Cale loved and hated the city at the same time. It was a monstrous place, loud and chaotic, but it also allowed him to roam freely even during the day. For the last few years, he had been stationed in Drathma as part of the Conclave’s northern circle, working to deepen connections with the old faiths that survived there.
Since the Great War, the Church of Light had begun “cleansing” everything that did not follow its teachings. Every non-human, except a few of the “tolerated sapient species,” had slowly been driven out or purged. It had become harder every year for anyone born naturally [Neutral] or [Evil] aligned. The Dawnspire Conclave had long been the only true competitor to the Church’s growing dominance. But after the fall of Catacrum, the great necropolis in the south, the Conclave had fractured. Its agents now operated mostly in the shadows.
Cale was one of the few true agents left. One of the ones still trusted. And he knew the Conclave was far from defeated. It had spent the last two hundred years gathering strength in the dark, digging its claws deep into degenerating societies that grew weaker and weaker as the Church expanded. A new dawn was coming. And Cale was certain of it.
So, when one of the [Crypt Lord] contacted him directly and told him to leave Varnathi at once, cross the border into Burm, and verify several important reports in the city of Tiara—he understood immediately that something significant was happening. The message had been so urgent that he was ordered to drop everything he was doing and ignore all standing operations.
That alone was strange. The Conclave never acted without long planning. But this time… there had been no planning at all beforehand. At least nothing he knew about.
The order he received was simple and unsettling.
Briefing Summary
Reports indicate activity from a new and unknown cultist cell within the city of Tiara. Separately, sightings confirm the presence of an elf identified as Lysaria Greenwood. Preliminary intelligence links her to the old Empire. She is listed as the guildmaster of [Doomsday], and it is confirmed she has publicly claimed that the Empire still strives. So, the stakes are high that one of the old ones is finally back.
Mission Directive
- Confirm the existence of the new cultist cell in Tiara and establish first contact.
- Locate Lysaria Greenwood and verify her identity and intentions.
- Proceed with exceptional caution, as her affiliations mark her as a high-risk, high-value target connected to the Empire’s remnants.
For the Conclave, that alone was enough to trigger high alert. If even one of the old ones returned after so long, then the balance of power on the continent would shift overnight.
Cale’s orders continued in a sharper tone. He was to make contact with her if possible, and he was to be the first representative of the Conclave to reach her. The Ecclesia was already moving toward Tiara, although they still underestimated the situation. The Church would reach the city long before any main Conclave force could. If there was even the slightest chance, he was to warn the guildmaster of [Doomsday] before that happened.
He was also instructed to unite her with the new cultist cell reported in Tiara and, above all, to use his full authorization to negotiate with anyone confirmed to be connected to Xares or Catacrum.
Then came the part that had made Cale’s heart jump with excitement. A stress signal. Something what was not sent in centuries. A message that every shadow agent, every sleeper cell, every remnant of the ancient Empire could recognize.
The parchment had glowed faintly when he read the encoded lines:
Stress Signal—Priority Grade Crimson
To all who still hold the old seal of Catacrum,
We reach out to you to unite your forces now.
For now is the time.
A new war is brewing on the horizon.
Follow your promises.
Follow the old contracts.
Stand one last time side by side.
We will be the tide that changes the world.
The time in the shadows is over, if you are ready.
Signed,
Lord Darius Xares
Council Member of Catacrum
It was a message of awakening, and it showed that the news and orders Cale had received were so important that the Conclave had chosen to step one last time out of the shadows. It was a truly risky move. Yes, they were strong already, and even if only half of the forces being called chose to answer, they could still bring much to the table.
But if they miscalculated…
If there was no old one returning to support them… Then this could just as easily become their final ruin.
With this in mind, he had left Varnathi immediately, traveling over the mountain range that divided Varnathi and Burm. From there he prepared himself to cross the Forgotten Woods, a massive forest that filled the gap between the mountains and the first larger human settlement of Burm: Tiara.
When he was halfway through, he paused at one of his usual travel spots, a lake he had always liked to rest beside. But this time, he realized early that the lake was not as empty as it had been on his last visits. He sensed several presences. Instinctively, he crouched low and stalked toward them.
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His class, [Shadowstalker], was perfect for reconnaissance missions. Also, he was confident enough that he did not need to fear most people or monsters in Burm anyway. The northern part of the continent was on the lower end of strength. Most humans never reached higher than level one or two hundred. Still, caution had kept him alive for decades, so he moved quietly as he scouted the lake.
What he found was… unexpected.
Several buildings had been erected—strange structures in an odd yet strangely impressive style. A few hooded figures walked around the area, performing various tasks. They looked like cultists. And since Tiara was roughly sixty miles away, they could very well be the cultists he had been sent to find.
But after watching them a little longer, Cale frowned.
They looked… clumsy. Unorganized. Almost provincial in their movements. And now they were beginning to argue, right there at the lake, over what seemed to Cale to be the most minor and pointless matters imaginable. He watched them with growing confusion, wondering how these people were even managing to live so far outside any real civilization.
But had they been here the last time he passed through? Probably not—he would have noticed buildings appearing from nothing. It meant they had arrived recently.
So, he decided to make contact. Even if they were not the group he was searching for, information was always useful. And, at worst, he could learn what strange people had decided to settle at his lake.
And so, Cale stepped out of the shadows, whistling a tune under his breath as if he had not a single worry in the world. He walked toward a small clearing where several hooded figures stood in front of one of the strange new buildings. They still did not notice him, even when he was almost beside them.
So, no high perception. Estimated level under one hundred, he noted absently.
“Oy,” he called out casually.
Instantly a woman spun toward him, already drawing a dagger. Three others reacted just as quickly.
“Who are you?!” she snapped. “Do not come any closer!”
He also heard her whisper sharply, “Sevrin, get ready. Sharon, take Marlon and circle to the right. If something happens the others will hear it, so keep calm for now…”
Cale’s eyes flicked to the robed man she had called Sevrin, who was forming mana at his fingertips. No spells activated beyond that, no buffs, nothing. The other two simply drew their daggers as well.
Estimated level under fifty, Cale thought. Or complete underperforming morons. Well, that makes things easier, but also more strange…
He lifted his arms with a grin. “Oy, stop it already. I mean no harm. I am just a random wanderer who happened to walk past this lake and saw you here. Say, are you by any chance a new cultist cell also active in Tiara?”
As he spoke, he silently activated [Umbral Dominion].
A subtle pulse left him, barely noticeable. Shadows around him deepened suddenly, stretching unnaturally across the ground. Within a thousand feet every shadow connected to him, becoming part of his extended senses.
Inside this territory, he could execute every person in the clearing silently, in the span of a heartbeat.
But he only smiled and waited for their answer.
Sevrin froze mid-spell and stepped up beside the woman who had spoken first.
“So, a random wanderer, huh? Then how do you know we are acting in Tiara?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
The woman whipped her head toward him, horrified. “SEVRIN!”
But Cale only grinned wider. “Oh, just assuming. Since I wanted to visit you, of course.”
He walked a little closer, hands still raised, beginning to explain himself.
“You see, it is quite uncommon that new cults appear out of nowhere and are not linked to Catacrum…”
The cultists in front of him still looked skeptical. Their stances were awkward, their coordination nonexistent. But after a bit more talking, the one called Sevrin suddenly grew excited. Until that point Cale had considered the whole encounter mildly amusing but ultimately pointless. They were incompetent, they had nothing of value, and it was strange that these people were supposed to be the cult active in Tiara.
Still, he saw no reason to hold back. He had nothing to lose here, and with some luck they could even help him. If not, he could dispose of them easily at any moment.
So, he mentioned that he was also searching for an elf named Lysaria Greenwood.
And the entire clearing went completely silent.
That surprised him far more than anything before. It seemed they were more connected to her than he had assumed.
After his explanation, they began questioning him—why he was looking for her, what the Conclave wanted, what his intentions were—and he simply played along, giving them the surface-level answers, he considered safe.
Then Sevrin and another cultist, a girl whose name he had learned was Marie, started arguing again about what they should do.
Cale rubbed his forehead. This cannot be real.
“So,” he said slowly, “is there maybe someone in your cult who could help me meet Lady Greenwood? Someone… higher up?”
Sevrin puffed up immediately. “I am the leader here. There is no one higher than me.”
Marie groaned. “Gods, stop it already. Do not start this in front of him.” She jabbed a thumb toward Cale. “But we can bring him to her.”
“No, we cannot!” Sevrin barked. “She is not here!”
Cale watched the girl Marie more closely. Her outbursts were sharp and emotional, but she calmed down almost instantly each time, as if something suppressed her reactions. Odd. Very odd.
And Sevrin… was a complete moron, yet there was something off about him too. Their interaction felt almost like a comedy skit performed in front of him.
“All right,” Marie said finally. “We ask him. She said we should ask him if something happens and he will be the one in charge, yes?”
Sevrin hesitated, then slowly nodded.
“Aight… go fetch him then.”
Cale raised an eyebrow at Sevrin as Marie left. “Go fetch… who?”
“Ah, she is fetching Lord Igrath,” Sevrin said casually. “He is in charge of the base while the Princess is not here.”
“The princess?” Cale echoed, surprised. Until now, no one had mentioned any princess.
“Yes, our Princess,” Sevrin said with a hint of pride. “The one and only Princess of the Abyss. Our cult freed her, you know.”
Cale fell silent. Princess of the Abyss? He had never heard such a title. But the Abyss was usually tied to… No, that can’t be… Everything since he reached the lake was getting stranger and stranger.
And when Cale saw Lord Igrath for the first time, something clicked in his mind.
A greater demon. A greater demon was commanding this group of chaotic clowns?
Oh Seth… The Conclave had been right. They had been right all along.
There was truly something moving inside and around Tiara.
Cale felt excitement flare in his chest when the hulking demon finally approached. He had spoken with many powerful beings before, but standing in front of a greater demon was another matter entirely. Still, Cale knew how to handle politics. That was the very reason he had been chosen for missions like this. So, he offered the demon the utmost respect and repeated his explanation from the beginning.
And so, in the end, that was how he found himself kneeling before her.
Not only him, everyone. Even Lord Igrath, massive and imposing as a mountain, had dropped to one knee. The robed followers knelt as well, their heads bowed in reverence. Cale felt the weight of the throne hall pressing in from all sides, the atmosphere thick enough to settle on his shoulders like a cloak. Ahead of him rose an obsidian throne. It towered at the end of a huge hall, carved from a stone so black it seemed to swallow every light around it. Shadows clung to its edges like living things. The skulls forming the armrests stared down at him with hollow, silent judgment, and upon them rested the Princess’s pale hands, her long black nails gleaming faintly in the firelight of the torches.
Her crimson eyes held him with a calm, ancient focus. There was no need for threats; her gaze alone pressed on his chest like a hand. Her beauty was distant and sharp, the kind that belonged to beings who did not age and did not forget. Someone stood beside her, another non-human, but Cale barely registered her presence. His attention was fixed entirely on the Princess seated before him.
He had never bowed to anyone outside the Conclave’s Council. But now, kneeling felt strangely natural. Everything he had witnessed at the lake, and everything he sensed in this throne room, pointed in one direction. This was not coincidence. This was something else. A beginning. Or perhaps a return.
When the Princess spoke, her voice was clear and clipped, carrying the calm authority of someone who was used to being obeyed. She questioned him about the Conclave the moment he mentioned the Order of Dawn, reacting not with confusion but with recognition. The way she said it—“The Dawnspire Conclave? You people still exist?”—made it sound as if she remembered a time when the Conclave had acted openly in the world, not hiding in its shadows. She spoke of it with the ease of someone who had been there for its rise, someone who had known what it once was, not someone who merely knew of its existence from rumors or history.
She spoke like one of the old ones.
“Yes, my lady,” Cale had answered. “The Conclave is eternal.”
And her next words sent a cold shiver along his spine.
“Such as the Empire…”
Hearing that from her lips felt surreal. Almost unreal, like the confirmation of something whispered in prophecy long ago. She leaned back slightly, studying him with eyes that seemed to weigh not just his words, but his worth.
“All right,” she said quietly. “You have my full interest now. I hope for your sake that you do not disappoint me.”
He swallowed and began again, but more carefully this time.
He explained his mission. How he had been sent to establish first contact with the guild [Doomsday] and to verify whether someone connected to the old Empire had truly resurfaced. He told her that several factions were already moving toward Tiara and that the Ecclesia would arrive well before any reinforcements from the Conclave. If possible, he needed to warn her. What he now did here, of course.
He went on, explaining that he had orders to unite her with the cultist cell reported near the city and that he held full authority to negotiate with anyone linked to the Empire or Catacrum.
And finally, he delivered the last part.
He assured her that the Conclave would support her in the war that was coming. He told her that Catacrum was stirring for the first time in centuries and that something long dormant was waking again. With all the solemnity the moment deserved, he offered her the allegiance he had been ordered to extend. If she chose to rise, to stand with the Conclave, then the Conclave would leave the shadows once more.
And this world would not remain the same.