It was twilight. A man, moving with the boldness and poise of a lion, strolled onto the steps at the colossal gates of The Acropolis. This man was Thaerus, Mage-Lord of Fire, Duke of Harlorr Fief, Head of the noblest House Dacia, and Supreme Commandant of the Eldandor Magedom's Mages.

The Acropolis, he thought, was the most hideous and unfathomable piece of architecture to have ever graced the Elandor Kingdom.

It was built on the barren mountains of the north-east of the kingdom, situated in the middlemost point where the grey peaks completely enclosed a hill. The grim, black walls were nearly a hundred metres tall and four hundred metres wide, and the massive arch-shaped gates were built from a million strong elvish wood. Tremendous Darite steel spikes - magically resistant, uncorrodable, and nigh-indestructible - protruded from the surface of the whole construct like some horrific abomination of a thorn-bush.

The guard towers that lined the walls were each manned by a hundred elite soldiers and headed by a powerful Mage. Although the total armed forces here amounted to barely a fifth of the forces in great cities like Castle Harlorr, it could defend against tenfold the number of enemies based on the structure alone.

The entire complex was the masterpiece of the ancients, a relic of a horrific past where the legendary Magus's - Mages powerful enough to transcend their humanity into semi-godhood -  defended against Otherkind God-Kings and their colossal monstrosities. Now, under the ravages of time, the monsters of antiquity had faded into nothingness and the Otherkind vanished with them. Yet the walls of The Acropolis remained, unflinching and eternally unmoving to protect against an extinct enemy.

Thaerus wondered whether if nowadays the walls were those of a prison than a sanctuary. For one, he would not stay in this hell hole unless his life depended on it. He far preferred the majesty of his home in Castle Harlorr.

Even though the journey from his fief through Grandheart Forest, over the central farmlands, and into the mountains here took just over two months, Thaerus felt as if his eyes had forgotten what the colour of life back home looked like.

He remembered the beautiful maidens of the court, the gorgeous tranquil fields, and the noble grandeur he indulged himself in. The man made a mental comparison to The Acropolis and saw only a harsh, brutal landscape without woman, scenery or nobility. Even now when he swore, the bitter, howling wind drowned out any sound other than itself.

In fact, the only feature in The Acropolis that seemingly had any sense of beauty whatsoever was the Keep. It was an elegant thing - formed from a small, white curtain wall enveloping a gorgeous marble palace. The palace was a spire of ivory, twisting around and around itself like a snake strangling its prey.

It climbed so high that, even beyond the impossibly tall walls of The Acropolis, it could be seen leagues away in the small fishing villages of the coast. Against the grim, bleak background the Keep was an exceedingly strange and alien structure.

Outside, Thaerus was not alone - behind him, a sizable group followed him cloaked in dark, gold-lined robes. They were his noble, like-minded Imperials. All were hidden under the mask of their cowls, only identifiable by the emblem of a single, crimson flame on their chest. They were silent, perfectly still, and melded in the darkness. They all came with a single goal. Thaerus put up his arm and gestured.

Begin.

One of them stepped forward from the crowd. The Imperial reached out his hand towards The Acropolis and paused to concentrate. A moment later, a faint glow enveloped his arm. Then, a great cardinal red light erupted out of his skin and then ignited into a smokeless, magical fire that shone blindingly in the darkness.

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The three guardsmen in the gatehouse all saw the light immediately. They hesitated, pausing for a moment to verify whether they saw the same thing. It had never happened before, and not a single one of them could have anticipated this. Generations of a guardsman in The Acropolis would have never had a single incident or possible intruder like this. All the other guardsman were on guard below. They had no one to consult but themselves. Then, one particularly eager guardsman marched to the commanding Mage inside the gatehouse.

"Sir! There are men outside the walls signalling to us."

The Mage smirked.

"Open the gate."

The guardsman looked hesitant.

"But Sir! They are unidentified and possibly hostile!"

The Mage's smirk turned into a sneer.

"Open. The. Gate."

"But his royal Majesty is currently staying here, this is a violation of - "

The guardsman was cut off by the sensation of a cold, overwhelming force on his neck. The Mage's right hand glowed an ethereal crimson as hot, boiling magic surged from within him. Strange, ghostly runes warped into existence on the pale hands of the Mage. A chain of pure magic wrapped itself around the guardsman's neck. The Mage slowly twisted his hand, forcing the guardsman's head to twist with it, and drew his fingers in tighter and tighter into a fist.

The guardsman's face went white, and he desperately struggled against the brutal, choking power. He tried to cry out. Then, the Mage, satisfied with his suffering, whipped his hand away. There was a savage crack as guardsman's neck snapped. His corpse fell lifelessly on the ground.

The Mage kicked him out of his path as he stepped outside. From the great height of the walls, the light looked different. It was the perfect image of a crimson flame. The other two guardsmen were staring with bewilderment at the sight, with confusion and apprehension raging in their minds that rivalled the storms they knew so well here. They did what every man did when faced with impossibility - they wavered. That was their mistake.

The Mage seized on the opportunity, his magic was still eager to be unchained from the confinements of his mortal body. Both of his hands glowed, and the same unearthly runes grew bright and hot with power.

Then, a moment later, there was a loud thud as two more their bodies crumbled to the ground.

As he pulled the lever to open the gate, the Mage mirrored the crimson flame he had seen down below, as he too donned the gold-lined robes of the Imperials.

A moment later, there was the almighty quake of the earth, as the gates shoved away from the very land it rested on in order to fully open. There was the tremendous roar of steel gears and thick rope strained to drive the complex and ancient apparatus that worked the enormous gates. The echo of the entire process reverberated from mountain to mountain. Men and horses were knocked off their feet as the force of the operation sent immense shockwaves in the area.

Then, the gate was completely open. Not a piece of wood or steel stood in between the outside world and the untouched insides of The Acropolis. There was an eerie silence as everything ground to a halt. Every man, woman, and child knew something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

Thaerus laughed madly. The invincible, unpenetrable gate and walls of The Acropolis fell without a single man lost. Half his life had been spent for this moment, and nothing could have possibly gone better. From the shadows of the mountain, behind his Imperials, an unseen army of mages in the hundreds arose from their positions in the darkness.

"Now, gentlemen, I believe we have an incompetent dynasty to be rid of."

All the stars in the vast sea above had aligned. All the men behind him were his to command. And all of the great Magedom before him was his to be seized.