A figure sat cross-legged in the dark depths of a temple on a not-too-distant continent. Its calm expression suddenly grew disturbed – a rare emotion for such a being.

“Mover of Souls, Host of Many,” a voice called out from a deep, cryptic connection.

“Unconquerable of Many Sides,” the figure returned the greeting.

A brief silence spread through the chthonic depths of the great pyramid, as the unknown being kept absorbing energy.

“The fate’s threads have trembled,” said the voice through the connection.

“Fate is not beholden to any of us.”

There was more silence, and the figure decided to clear the air, “we cannot control the fate of mortals.”

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“You cannot hide behind your mysteries. We all demand answers to the thinning of fate.”

The ancient being brought his hands apart, showing a projection of a young woman covered in black veins branching over her skin. He narrowed his eyes, the air around him thickening.

“She’s of much Unbound Matter,” the figure explained to the raging connection. “Fate might have thinned now, but new paths have been opened. Bear faith.”

“You should have plucked a better soul to release the chains. Many warriors I’ve seen—she doesn’t look like one. She will perish.”

“All plans can be amended,” the figure in the pyramid said. “And opportunities can appear in the most unlikely of places.”

“No thread bound to her is of Greatness,” the warring voice replied.

“Your eyes have waned, friend,” the figure in the pyramid spoke pointedly. “The most ancient of them, older than us, has just manifested.”

The mysterious being smiled as it felt a tremble of disbelief.

“It can’t be... the thinning—”

“Ex umbra in solem,” the being in the depths of the temple smiled.

Through the shadow into the light.