The modest campfire fought valiantly to keep the chill at bay. Its four occupants drew nearer to the warmth and comfort it radiated. The night sky was clear, and the air was still. As if the world held its breath in anticipation.

"Let’s start from the beginning. You said your memories are full of holes; what exactly do you remember?" The tall, slender, raven-haired woman asked.

Ben closed his eyes and tried to think back to a childhood that had, so far, been a leaden wall in his mind. He remained silent for a few heartbeats and gave up after feeling the promise of a headache looming in his periphery.

"It’s hard to explain. As far as concepts go, I seem to understand… things, or at least be able to draw parallels between these concepts and what I experience." He paused. "But, as far as events go… My oldest memory is hearing you, Ainsle, and another man talking on the beach. You know, the day you found me?"

Ainsle reacted to Ben’s statement with a slight, near imperceptible shift.

"I see. Anything else?" Jor asked.

Ben considered revealing that he had overheard the… incident with her and Eric but decided against it as it wouldn’t be relevant to their current line of conversation.

"I drifted in and out of sleep during my initial recovery at the outpost. Other than that, my memory only extends back to a few days ago."

"Alright. Ain, any thoughts?"

Jor turned to the scarred woman, who had pulled the fur tight around her body.

"Hmm. Braccis said he was just real hungry. Nothing about a knock to the head, though the boy seems pretty dim at times…" Ainsle said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, I thought so too. But Braccis is a fixer, not a healer, and -" Jor glanced at Ann’s sleeping form. "-neither is the Priestess."

"You’re saying I may have brain damage?" Asked Ben, concerned.

"I’m not saying anything, but at least we’ve established that you must be brought up to speed as soon as possible."

"Surprised you lasted this long already. You’re like a babe fresh off his mother’s tits," Ainsle interjected.

Jor sighed.

"I think Ainsle is trying to say that normal folks don’t usually survive traveling through the blight woods. I’d give someone with no knowledge of this world less than one in one hundred odds of making it through in one piece. You’re lucky to have… befriended the Priestess as you have."

Ben stared, his jaw slack. Ainsle let out a wheezing chuckle.

"See! Sharp as a rock," the older woman pointed out.

The young man regained his composure and protested.

"Wait, me and Annie aren’t, uh…."

"Fucking?" Ainsle supplied helpfully, gesturing to the Priestess whose head was resting on Ben’s shoulder.

"Yes. I mean, no. We’re not fucking." Ben shook his head and continued in a pleading tone. "Please, can you help me? Anything. I just. I don’t know."

Jor’s back straightened at the plea. Ainsle looked away as if ashamed of her ribbing. The Priestess’ snoring stopped. After a beat, the squad leader spoke up.

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"Okay." She paused as Ben met her gaze once more. "I think it’s best that we start with a bit of history. Some of it may pertain to you, others not. But It’ll help you get a grasp on the bigger picture."

"You’re in for a treat, Benny-boy. She’s pretty good at this." The Berserker winked.

Ben nodded. Jor took a deep breath.

"Many years ago, centuries, millennia, we’re not sure when, a great calamity befell Aetheria. One day, a Tear appeared in the sky above a valley we now call The Vale of Moons. It was said by scholars to be the collateral damage of a war between the Gods against an unknown entity on their plane of existence. The conflict was so terrible that it damaged the very weave that separated our world from the divine realm. Slowly over countless years, the tear in the weave grew and grew, and from it, divine power leaked into the world of mortals."

A cold gust of wind disturbed the company.

"Strange beasts and terrible, twisted creatures were sighted near the growing tear. People of the land began to exhibit inhuman abilities. We realize now that those stories were the first recorded incidents of mana manipulation or magic." She paused to add: "It was at this time that the first ruins of the Old World were discovered."

"The monsters that were believed to have come through the tear in the weave began to appear in the farthest reaches of the known world, mercilessly consuming all life in their path. New tears began forming, and humankind was prey for a time." Jor paused as she shivered in the cold evening air.

"About a thousand years ago, a young Priestess of _________ had a vision. In this vision, she spoke of a Herald who would guide the people of Aetheria to a new era of salvation from their invaders. The Herald who she spoke of was a woman who was said to have emerged from a tomb of the Old World on the evening after the summer solstice. History tells us that she had features alien to those of the people of the land. She towered over the tallest warriors, and her beauty was said to have made many a chaste Priest weep."

"The Herald, accompanied by the Priestess, traveled the land. The pair taught all, from the wealthiest of kings to the poorest of beggars, how to harness divine power through the weave of the world. The Priestess came to be known as the Keeper of the Herald and, in later years, founded the Order of _______. The Order has survived to this day but is generally regarded as nothing more than a cult of fanatics. Despite this, most of their teachings remain the foundations of modern magic used today."

Ben’s eye twitched as his ears refused to hear the names of the Gods. Not allowing frustration to get the better of him, he focused on what he could comprehend.

"The people of Aetheria had, for the first time in countless years, hope. Men and women grew strong and powerful. The ability to interact with and manipulate mana and their growing understanding of the weave between worlds allowed for a stronger connection to the Gods. The divine beings would select Champions among the people and grant them unparalleled power."

Jor paused again to append:

"It was later found that anyone could obtain this power. Being a devout worshipper of a God didn’t play a significant role in its acquisition… Well, I say anyone, but there’s a bit more to it than that. Anyways, the first Men and Women obtained the power that we today call Avatars. Avatars are ideals, emotions, or vices made manifest, and as a result, the fight against the monsters of the world reached a tipping point. As is natural, fate addressed the imbalance."

"This is the good part!" Ainsle interjected, grin wide.

Ben was torn from his entrancement before Jor rolled her eyes and sighed. The woman continued.

"Thanks, Ain. As I was saying… Nature is balance, and the imminent eradication of the blight upon Aetheria saw the arrival of Darkness’ own Champions. They were fewer than the Champions of the land, but the power they wielded was both terrible and insurmountable. Armies of the dead and wicked had risen to answer the call of their Generals, and a Great war was waged for a century and three days. Many Champions lost their lives in battles against the Dark, but the people struck back and secured several victories of their own."

The shadows cast by the campfire seemed to grow taller. The air a touch colder. Ben didn’t blink. He was startled as he felt Ann’s breath quicken. He wrapped an arm around her, eyes not straying from the storyteller.

"On the third day after a century, a battle later recorded as The Battle of the Pale Lady was fought on the border of the third tear in the southern steppes of Karillia. The Herald was in the Vanguard of the first clash, and she was reported to have cleaved entire battalions with each swing of her great halberd. The Champions of the Dark were drawn to her brilliant light, and soon she was outnumbered and overwhelmed. Any who tried to come to her aid were slaughtered indiscriminately. Old texts speak of Auras so powerful that they cause anyone who ventured into their sphere of influence to drop dead in their tracks. As the battle drew on, the Herald suffered a mortal wound from her assailants, and in her dying breath… She called upon her Avatar."

An ominous wind moaned through the clearing. The hairs on Ben’s arms prickled, and his brow grew cold with sweat. The priestess dug her nails into his side. She let out a barely audible whimper.

"Hers was the Avatar of Domination."