Prologue

I have been called by many names over the course of my life: the Guardian of Tanga, the Patriarch of the Dragon Fire Clan, the Bane of the Deep, Bastion of Humanity, Crafter of Gods, and the Wizard of Seraphiel. And I have failed. I had one job, to close the rift of Maliel and free humanity from the demon horde but now I lie dying, my soul ravaged beyond salvation. No Matter. All things must come to an end. I have been betrayed by those I called brothers in the defense of humanity. Due to their greed, they have doomed us for all time. We were on the cusp of victory, the horde had been pushed back, and now humanity must survive until another of my line arises to pick up the mantle and finish the war. I can only hope that this sacrifice will be enough for a time. Maybe, for all time.

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