The world beyond the window was serene. The golden light of dusk stretched across the land, painting the rolling hills of the Nytheris Plains of the Nimbus lands in soft hues. A deer, its coat dappled with sunlight, grazed quietly by the riverbank, unaware of the steady flow of time. Birds circled high in the sky, their wings a rhythmic beat in the peaceful quiet. Far in the distance, the towering peaks of the Myre Mountains stood, their snowy slopes a stark contrast to the warmth of the sun that bathed the earth. Farther still, the molten expanse rumbled faintly, a reminder of the world's raw power. The air held the scent of wet earth as a soft drizzle began to fall, quiet at first, but soon growing heavier.

Inside the humble chamber of the monastery, an old priest lay on his deathbed, his frail body covered by simple linens. His face, etched with years of service and wisdom, seemed to be at peace, yet his eyes, though clouded with age, held a profound intensity. The soft hum of the world outside filtered through the cracks in the stone walls, the only sounds in the room, save for his low voice, as it broke the silence.

"The world, my child, is steeped in sin... in hate and suffering. Death follows each of us, and greed claws at our very souls. We are fleeting creatures, lost in desires that poison our hearts. Yet, for all our wrongdoings, for all the darkness that surrounds us, life... life remains."

A faint pause, as the room seemed to hold its breath, only to be filled by the rhythmic sound of rain falling against the roof. The steady drip-drip of water mirrored the thoughts in his mind. Outside, the world carried on—unperturbed, untouched by the suffering of mankind. "In the face of all this... chaos... beauty endures. Can you see it? Can you see how life refuses to be extinguished?"

His voice faltered, weak yet unwavering, the words laden with truth. He coughed lightly, before continuing, his tone quieter now, almost a whisper. "What do you seek?" The question drifted through the room, heavy in the silence. The world outside—the rain, the animals, the trees—seemed to listen. No answer came.

"Why, after all the pain, the loss, the struggle, do we still rise each day? Why do we not simply fade into the nothingness?" The storm outside swelled, its intensity rising, but still the world outside remained—undaunted. "Do you seek power? Fame? Infamy? Love? Knowledge? Or ignorance?"

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The words were not spoken to anyone but the air itself. Still, there was a sense that the question might remain unanswered for eternity. "We are all driven by something. We are slaves to forces we cannot see or understand. Yet still, we move forward, day after day. What do you seek?" He fell silent, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The storm outside raged, but the rain seemed to soften as if the world itself waited. With one final breath, Father Maric Valemont, The Eternal Inquirer, High Priest of the Holy Capital, and Guardian of the Flame passed, his eyes closed and the question unanswered.

And the world outside—untouched, relentless—continued. Life, in its fragile beauty, moved on.

The question lingered in the air, unanswered, as time itself seemed to hesitate in the wake of Father Valemont’s final words. His inquiry—spoken in the fading light of his life—echoed not just in the quiet chamber, but across the land, reaching into the hearts and minds of all who would hear it.

For some, the answer would be clear: the pursuit of power, wealth, love, or knowledge. For others, it was a search for meaning in a world that had grown cold with war and corruption. But there were those who sought no answers at all, drifting through life as mere shadows in the dark, caught in the tides of fate, powerless against the storm brewing in the horizon.

Unseen, unheard, the winds of change began to stir across the land. In the dark corners of the world, the stirrings of forgotten powers awoke, ancient forces that had slumbered for millennia, undisturbed and left to their own devices. The quiet peace of the world, though seemingly eternal, was only the calm before the storm.

Beneath the surface of society, where the kingdoms thrived and the peoples celebrated their triumphs, darkness had begun to take root. It was a shadow that would consume all—bending light, warping reality, and unraveling the secrets of the magical world.

No one yet knew the true cost of this looming disaster. Yet history, written in the stars and whispered by those who had come before, had left a chilling prophecy, a story of an age where balance was lost and the world itself faced annihilation.

The Age of Discord was a period forgotten, that should have never been. The quiet moments of peace were a lie—a temporary reprieve granted only by the very forces that sought to tear the world apart.

Now, as the celestial bodies above began to shift, so too did the world below. The winds carried whispers of a coming doom. And those who walked the earth—heroes, scholars, rulers, and sinners alike—were destined to find their paths entwined with the threads of fate in ways they could never have imagined.