Suraiya Karelian was the daughter of nobility.

A true, properly raised and impeccably bred heiress of one of the Royal Houses of the Grand Ascendancy. Her family had been proud members of its founding few, her ancestors warriors, orators, and politicians the likes of which few could claim relation to. She was a product of careful, and meticulously calculated bloodline unions. Her future was bright beyond any question, her destiny one of greatness and prestige.

So then why, she had to wonder, did she feel so fully and entirely trapped?

Her eyes shifted from the meditation space she had been supposed to be using, laden with sigils of focus and choral arrays intended to enhance focus and relax the mind; to the sweeping vista of the gargantuan territorial expanse her family called their dominion. From the distant Dragonspine mountains to the north which towered over the wild forests of Lascia, to the near and far distant great lakes dotting the Verandian lowlands to the west, and the inland villages and farmland of the Tuvarian highlands to the east.

The lands of her family were gorgeous in the pre-dawn starlight.

From her wind-caressed position upon the landing of the highest tower of Stormharrow, she could see in every direction. When she turned around and brushed back her curtain of golden hair, shifting position to step across the hallowed garden and look to the south; she could even see the true source of her consternation: the Desolation.

A blighted expanse of dead, blackened, and browned earth stretching from the distant sentinel towers of the Lunar Gate and its enchanted walls all the way to the black sea, at the tip of the continent’s southern archipelago.

The Desolation had been the charge of House Karelian for over five millennia, a grim and severe realm from which only nightmares and death emerged. Blight twisted tribes roamed its landscape, beasts out of nightmare prowled its forbidding expanse, and terrible raptors of every breed soared its corrupted skies.

It was a place of madness and ruin, where a small sample of the Calamity which had almost destroyed the Prime Material was preserved.

“Elysea.”

The name left her lips unbidden while she gazed upon the land stretched out before her, distant and terrible in its dark desiccation. How she wished she would be allowed to explore it. She had reached her twenty-second year, and still her father—the King of Stormharrow and its subordinate Duchies—refused to allow her to travel there.

He refused to even entertain the idea, despite all her attempts to convince him.

Had she not proven herself capable? Had she not risen to every challenge? Had she not defeated every Untempered lout and lass that dared to accept the crowns she offered to them for duelling her?

How was she supposed to achieve her first Temper, if he would not let her even gain the experience she needed to properly level her skills?

When you’re older. He had said. When you’re stronger.

She was expected to practise in the safe way, as all heirs did: to weather the drudgery of repeated routine meditation, duelling, exercise, tonics, elixirs, pills and study. She was to be a good, devout member of the Ascendancy’s faith and allow the God of Light to fill her with purity and blah blah blah.

Suraiya scowled at the injustice of it all. She had read the histories! She knew her family’s legacy!

Karelians had been warriors since before the Ascendancy’s founding! They had been one of the original families to swear loyalty to the first Grand Ascendant, Saint Justinian! It was absolute insanity that she was not simply disallowed from pursuing her growth in the Desolation, but outright forbidden from even discussing it any longer!

So instead, she stood powerlessly, and watched, and wished for more. Not a wish for danger, or a lack of appreciation for the comforts she had been afforded; for she knew that all and sundry within the Ascendancy would quite literally—and had in some cases—kill for even a scrap of the lifestyle she enjoyed.

She understood she was lucky. She understood she was fortunate.

Yet she could not escape the feeling of being trapped within a gilded cage.

“Princess,” a calm voice interrupted her glum ruminations. “You are not meditating.”

Suraiya turned with a suppressed curse, finding her Knight-Captain of the Guard, Ser Gilbert van Ostland, watching her with amused and discerning grey eyes.

“Ser Gilbert.” she greeted him regally, while ignoring the fact she’d spun around with clear and evident guilt. If she pretended like nothing had happened, then he surely couldn’t bring attention to it.

That was part of the perks of being royalty, after all.

“Are you daydreaming of the Desolation again, your highness?” he asked with a glance beyond her, and an eyebrow arched upward in question. “You know your father’s ruling on the matter very well, by now.”

“It does not mean I cannot think on the matter,” she said coolly while mustering her control. “You well know my feelings on the Desolation by now, Ser Gilbert.”

“I do your highness,” he confirmed with a respectful nod, “and remain in agreement with His Majesty. The Desolation is far too dangerous for you to enter absent dire need, and especially without even your first Temper.”

“It will be years yet before I reach that stage, at the rate I am going.” she lamented with bitterness she couldn’t quite obfuscate. “The nature of my training emphasises the slow and steady—” she let her disdain show as she spoke “—approach to progression. I will be wedded off and locked away once again long before I ever reach the required level for such an adventure. Gaining experience through this inane repetition has immense diminishment on its returns. The System does not reward those absent courage.”

Ser Gilbert at least had the good grace to show his grimace at her words, acknowledging the likelihood of her fate even if he didn’t put it into words. “I understand your vexation Princess, but that is the burden of duty. You are meant for greater things than standing in the muck with Adventurers and soldiers.”

At his words Suraiya turned away to once again peer out at the Desolation.

How many of her ancestors had stood in that same proverbial muck?

How many Karelians had died to safeguard Stormharrow from its horrors?

“I am a daughter of warriors, Ser Gilbert.” she stated with a mix of frustration and powerlessness that she was loath to show but couldn’t quite master herself enough to hide. “My blood sings to me to go forth, and yet all of you would see me kept as a pretty bauble within a cage.”

“Your Highness—”

“Enough, Gilbert.” she interrupted with an upheld hand. “I know what you are going to say. I am aware it is not your fault, but you are as complicit as…” her words trailed off and she frowned. A sudden source of new light had stolen her attention, and she focused her gaze on it intently. “What in the Realms…?”

She heard Ser Gilbert’s chainmail jingle when he moved forward at her sudden distraction, if only a few steps, and spoke. “What is that?”

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Above them both and growing clearer to Suraiya’s vision was some sort of shimmer in the predawn sky, rapidly brightening at an alarming rate. While she watched, and her Knight-Captain watched with her; the enigma grew until it was a blazing light, searing its way across the heavens.

“By Solarius…” Ser Gilbert said in shock, and echoed Suraiya’s own internal thoughts as the light refined itself into a blistering ball of flame hurtling towards the earth.

“What is that, Ser Gilbert?” Suraiya asked with a heady mix of shock and wonder.

“A falling star.” the Knight replied in a quietly reverent voice. “A thing not seen in uncounted Ages.”

Together they watched the light sear its way across the sky and turn early morning to radiant day, all while descending inexorably. When she trailed her eyes along its likely path, they widened in disbelief. “It… it is going to land in the Desolation!”

Ser Gilbert swore in a way she’d rarely heard from him, and turned away from her and the falling star. “I must inform the Chancellor and the Magi. I will return!”

Suraiya lifted a hand distractedly to acknowledge him and heard him run back towards the doors from whence he’d arrived, platemail rattling as he pushed his Expert-level—Third Temper, she reminded herself—body to its limit. To her unevolved senses, he was gone faster than she could have noticed. Normally a display of such prowess would have, despite her best attempts, impressed her and induced envy.

Now however, all her attention was focused wholly on the incomparable miracle that she beheld.

A star falling from the Heavens.

“A sign…” She breathed quietly and with growing reverence. “This is the sign I’ve waited for! Blessed ancestors, you call to me, and I shall not fail you!”

The moment she finished speaking, the star impacted in an eruption of brilliance, washing the world with colour and then surrendering the pre-dawn back to the first vestiges of Solarius, rising in the east.

Suraiya frowned at the silence of it all. “Well, I had thought it would be lou—”

A boom hit Stormharrow like the beat of a god’s drum, and air pressure staggered her backwards with a force and ferocity of sound that surprised even her.

She laughed joyously at the sensation.

“I have heard you loud and clear!” she called to the fading noise. “I shall set out with all haste!”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than a System screen populated her vision, lined in gold and set upon a soft pink background per her custom settings. When she read it, her eyes widened with shock, joy, and trepidation all at once.

QUEST ISSUED: The Fallen Star

You have witnessed an event unprecedented for this Age: the descent of a body from Heaven. In the heart of such an event you have seen a message from your Ancestors, crying out for your intervention. Venture into the Desolation and discover the location of the Fallen Star, and what mysteries it might hold.

Success Parameters:

Find the Fallen Star

Survive the Desolation

Failure Parameters:

Die

Rewards:

1 x Gold Chest

1 x Unique Title (Varies)

Huge Experience Gain

* * * * *

Inside the royal palace of Stormharrow, within the highest room of the tallest of its towers, the Stormharrow Hierarch of the Grand Ascendancy’s Holy Church watched in silence as a star fell from the heavens. Where Suraiya and Gilbert had expressed awe and wonder at the sight and marvelled at its mystery and glory; there was neither joy nor inspiration upon the austere features of Jacques du Valais.

He stood with his hands clasped behind him, watching through the floor-to-ceiling window as the burning orb fell to earth. His gaze was placid at a casual glance, though any longer inspection would reveal the cold calculation in his blue eyes. He remained stoic throughout the entire event, barely blinking even after the impact shook the castle and lit up the world.

When it was done, he let loose a low, thoughtful ‘Hmm’ and turned around to face the room’s sole other occupant. He regarded her silently after he did, taking note of the gilded edging of her plate, the white enamel upon its base, and the blazing sunburst sewn into the fabric of her white tabard. It was magnificent armour. He preferred how she looked without it, though.

The authority and power of his position had given the Hierarch plenty of time to come to that particular conclusion.

His eyes met hers, and he smiled without mirth.

“What an interesting time we find ourselves living in, Commander Elenoir. A star has fallen from Heaven. Do you know what this means?”

“Forgive me my ignorance your grace,” she responded flatly, “but I cannot say I do.”

“It means that a time of Calamity is upon us, Commander. It means that, unless we act, we cannot ensure the safety and harmony of our Grand Ascendancy.”

As expected, this drew the woman’s detached expression into a look of razor focus. “What do you require of the Anointed?”

The Hierarch killed his sardonic smile before it could ever appear.

“I have no doubt that the King’s firebrand daughter will decide to press this moment to advantage. Without His Majesty present, it is very likely his daughter will decide to flout the Chancellor’s authority and gallivant into the Desolation chasing this adventure. I have seen the girl ripen from a babe, and heard her confessions. She is desperate for an opportunity such as this, in order to prove herself to her ancestors.”

The Commander’s golden eyes were unblinking, and her pale, beautiful features were cold. “You wish for me to ensure her safety, your holiness?”

“No, Commander.” he said with a shake of his head. “Let the Princess have a head start. Three weeks, let’s say, from the moment she departs. Once she is firmly gone from Stormharrow, you will take your Anointed and follow after her.”

“To what end, your grace?”

“If the Princess should fail in her fallen-star-hunting jaunt to the Desolation, you are to secure her quarry yourself and return with all haste.”

“And if she should succeed?”

“Then she will have been tainted by the Calamity’s descent, and must be purified—such is as Saint Justinian’s commandments dictate.” he said coolly.

For a moment he saw a flicker of hesitation or doubt on her doll-like features and suppressed an amused smile. The only thing the pale, black-haired Commander of the Anointed of Stormharrow should have doubted was her own worthiness. It was why she was so often called to submit for the validation of her loyalty and faith.

He had been very careful in ensuring that, after all.

“If this is your will, your holiness,” Elenoir responded flatly. “I hear and obey.”

“I am glad to hear it, Commander. I will leave you to your preparations.” he turned away and looked back out of the window. “But do return before the noonday bell.” His gaze trailed over to the leather crop lying beckoningly on his desk. “We shall see to your daily affirmation of faith.”

The spasm of fear and rage on her features, reflected just barely in the window, brought another smile to the Hierarch’s face.

It only widened when she left moments later after giving her affirmation.

“So…” he murmured as he looked out at the Desolation “...a Nephilim has descended, as the Saint predicted. What a fortuitous day that the prophesied requiem of Elysea would arrive where I have a chance to seize it for myself.”

His fingers pressed to the cold glass, and he suppressed a shiver of anticipation.

He wondered if it would scream as loudly as the Commander.