Waters of the great lake of Tiaali shimmered in the tender, soothing shades of dawn as the Illius high up in the infinite blue sky sprinkled with billowing clouds shone onto its azure pristine surface. Gleaming fish of great sizes disturbed solely the peace of the waters as they danced above before merged into the refreshingly cold depths with the bottom occupied by an unsettling darkness bereft of dangers besides a few ravenous leeches occasionally hunting to drain mana out from their victims, though these slimy beasts dwarfed to the sizes of not just the great worms of the far-south but to the other tenants of the lake.

Surrounding the lake itself, a vast acreage of woodland spiraled across its sandy shores, consisting of multifarious trees like the exotic eucalyptus native to the warm climate of the worlds’ middle lands; the dracaenor trees which gnarled barks resemble the scaled, majestic epidermis of the great dragons who are their namesakes as they were sowed across the planes Shepherd of Elements, the great elder dragon who was the chief architect of the planes. Then there were the solemn willows planted by the local settlers seven or eight centuries ago embellishing the sandy shores besides the more common oaks and birches planted by an ancient order of druids long since gone who aided in the spread of green and yellow – almost golden – grass to spread in the shadows of the trees own ruby, emerald, cobalt and amethyst painted foliage.

Like the vast forest surrounding it, Tiaali itself birthed with the intermingling of nature and mortal hands. Thousands of years ago, during the final stages of the War of Twilight fought on the untainted lands of Elhyrissian, the crater that became the lake born from the clash of Tiaali, a chosen Iaunorh the Amber Lord and Mineirvia The Sagacious Challenger and one of the Thirteen Abominations, the so called generals of the Grim Sovereigns Undying Legions.

For months the two’s armies fought relentlessly, tainting the area with the rot of finality, the blazes and thunder of war aching the land beneath which retaliated to both sides leading Tiaali to send her army away and in a brazen, foolish act taunted the Abomination to a duel between themselves, beckoning him with the locks on her soul dissolved. For weeks the two fought without stop, though this time the elements waited patiently seeing through the veil of Tiaali and noticing her final resolution as she called upon the primordial essences of her benefactors culminating in spells beyond her reach, beyond her mortal limits which resulted in an arkhaine burst of unfettered matter wiping out the horde of dead waiting for the triumph of their master.

A crater remained as the last mark of the long battle which through the centuries got filled naturally by the winding rivers slithering towards it, while the forest followed first naturally, then by the hands of the druids and settlers who slowly built their town of Malacirul on both banks of the Flaurdrenn River supplying the lake with the filtered water of the Haubrian Ocean’s western waters.

Though besides the settlers, the lake of Tiaali is quite popular with many a folk with multifarious intents. Folk who simply wish to ease the weights of cities by escaping their suffocating embraces and finding calm and beauty saundering the hidden, leaf and flora blanketed routes of the forest; those who went beyond and fully escaped the city to live in the forests to live by its grace and amongst its wild folk even on the isles; those who seek glory within the hidden secrets of the woodland, delving into its deep caverns or ruins left behind by ancient orders of magusos both benevolent and wicked or to hunt down threats lingering in the menacing shadows. And lastly but not least, the First Legion who each year send their promising auxiliaries here to prove themselves in the Trials of Elevations.

The Trials of Elevations served as a way for the pure legions to elevate the best within each rank with numerous challenges each harder and more dangerous as the number of contestants dwindled with the last challenge taking place at Tiaali for the auxiliaries whom wished to reach the rank of Hastariar, the main line of infantry tasked not just with the protection of the Empire’s settlements, but the very peace of it and serve to expand its territories when it’s time nears.

Tiaali and the forest surrounding it is the perfect for these auxiliariir to prove their mettle as for the most part, the forest’s inhabitants consists mostly of goblinoids like the caublorumus native to the isles; minotaurs and ogres from the taller side; then there are the satyrs the crude cousins of faun demikin; the Fothin Spriggans maintaining the order of the forests’ least threatening beasts and slowly spread its reach outwards with their soothing lullabies. Then there are the more dangerous but still in the range expected of hastariir, the wild gryphon who regard the woodland as one of their hunting grounds and lastly the undead in the dim, ghastly recesses of the south-eastern parcel wandering aimlessly, growing their numbers.

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A sigh filled with relief beget of his muscles tensed by the three day march loosening, the wild storm raging within the anima veins left Isocrates’ lips as his eyes basked in the beauty of the lake stretching beyond the limits of his vision on the 34th day of spring month of Seintrua, the spring season of nature, healing and the Wilds themselves in the 1264th Year of the First Age.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The resonant, yet not so deep voice of his tribuniar whom he served under since his elevation into the rank of auxiliar after the battle against the cult reached his ears whilst the aevhe a meter or so taller than him cast his shadow over him on the right, while on the left he stood in the protective shade of a slanted willow with verdant emerald leaves hung above the water and sand. “It is.” Isocrates concurred as his gaze returned to the idyllic watery vista before his eyes. His voice was low from both exhaustion, the warmth of the season as the rays scorched through his golden armor and crimson tunic whilst his mind was occupied by conflicting thoughts of regret and relief.

The latter born from the past few years spent feeding information to the New Dawn where his true loyalties lied while pretending to be a stalwart auxiliariar of the legion carrying out the will of the Elhyrissiar. A duty which barraged him with both thrill and clammy horror as the cult’s attempts at sowing discord, chaos and terror just intensified the past years as they sought revenge for the loss of one of their own.

A retribution which reached beyond the citizens, the patrolling legionariir or custodiir. Even the Draennith Praetoriir was far from the reach of the cult after Augermil took off to the north, with at least half a dozen members from every Wing found dead either in their homes, in some dark, deserted alley where only the downtrodden scurry into when they notice the approaching custodiir tread, or more disconcertingly in their very own stronghold atop the mountains’ ridge.

Whilst the Order of Maghia’s Truth remained free from the retribution of the enemy, their approval, status fell in the eyes after Isocrates shared the news with Naghig not long after the battle with Hunra. So much so in fact that during this year’s celebration, only a handful of the echelons below the patricii showed up at the renovated cathedral – though some also attribute it to Terrianis remaining in the Radiant Keep since the attack.

All in all he felt a bit of relief as he now spent patrolling the cities, which then led to him facing off against the Radiant Circle – as he learned their names after capturing one of their members not yet fully part of the strange flock. And whilst he raked up small triumphs, proving his worth to the legion, to the Empire, he also witnessed the horrors of war in the heart of the Empire in the form of the innocent lives lost, their vacant eyes seemingly staring right into his soul, asking him repeatedly why he could not act, why they could not vanquish this evil lingering in the shadow of peace and prosperity.

And the former beget from his small desire finally blooming into form. One night two years after his elevation. as he was on dusk duty making rounds in the streets lit by warm hues of the dawn alone, he stumbled into Luelia running an errand for Mirayroth whom she now directly worked under. Since that fateful night, the two went on a few assignments hunting down the cells of the cult hidden across the city and even faced a faun magus with a Taerebussian pact.

Knowing perfectly well that his elevation would bring him further into the belly of the Dragon, still he could not soothe the aching of his heart as her glimmering eyes, her soft face and wide and cushioned lips appear in a phantasmal image reflected in the clean waters of intermingling warm and cold shades.

“So what shall this challenge entail?” In the end he did what always helped him calm down after facing terror, closed his eyes for a moment as he inhaled the fresh, warm air caressing his lungs and throat before he voiced his question to Tribuniar Hektrahd whose long ears poked through the dark waterfall of silken locks.

“That shall be revealed tomorrow. For now just help your brothers and sisters setting up tents then rest as a long week shall be ahead all of us, trust me.” He said, firmly gripping his shoulder as the two turned towards the busy camp where at least twenty or so auxiliariir scurried hoarding supplies, raising the crimson walled tents whilst Albron a few of his dark armored praetoriir watched over them with austere expressions.