A large round table sat in the middle of a spacious, well-lit, and circular chamber. The curved walls and dome-shaped ceiling were lined with murals that remained vibrant and beautiful despite being centuries old, and the tall windows were decorated with stained glass that dyed the afternoon sun’s rays a myriad of hues. All of the imagery on display was of a religious nature, depicting various key scenes from the Dream of Eternal Morrow. The text in question detailed the physical and spiritual journey of the faith’s founder, a mysterious fellow who insisted he be remembered as an idea rather than an individual. Though he was called the Prophet, it was a title bestowed upon him by his followers rather than something he chose himself. In truth, so little was known about the person themselves that it wasn’t even certain if they were in fact a man, and certain sects chose to worship the church’s founder as a woman. This difference of opinion was not only allowed, but even encouraged by the mysterious figure’s own teachings.
Unity in thought and purpose seemed like a good thing on paper. If everyone agreed on everything then there’d be no strife or conflict, yet history proved this was an impossible ideal. A community that never challenged tradition or sought new frontiers was doomed to stagnate, rot, and die. Even the great civilizations of the past had succumbed to the slow and insidious killer that was complacency. Elves, dwarves, giants, and the like had achieved total unity amongst their own kin, but in the process created echo chambers where their idle misgivings with the other races could fester into full-blown hatred. It was ironic, in a way. By seeking to understand themselves, they ended up ostracizing and discriminating against those who could never fit their worldview. The outcome? They were all dead or gone, the world was scarred forever, and humanity was left to pick up the pieces.
This was a lesson that the Prophet learned from the War of the Ancients, and the one he desperately needed the rest of his people to understand. Rather than seek to erase their differences, people needed to respect and treasure that which made them unique. This wasn’t about race or class, but a warning to not blindly embrace conformity and to always challenge the unknown. Each new dawn was full of opportunity and possibility, and if humanity didn’t learn to make the most of such, they would not be able to overcome the apocalypse. Indeed, that was the Church of Dawn’s ultimate goal – ensuring that mankind as a whole lived to see another day. The Prophet had left plenty of hints and clues as to how the world’s end could be forestalled and eventually averted, and it was up to his most devout followers to make his vision a reality.
Of course, none of that had anything to do with this circular chamber’s lavish decor. It did little to advance the faith’s agenda or spread the Prophet’s message since only a select few individuals were allowed in this sacred place. The murals and stained glass windows were there because leaving the space bland and empty would do more harm than good. This was the usual meeting spot for the Cardinal Council, the highest-ranked members of the Church of Dawn. Technically the pope was above them, but he was mostly a figurehead. These five held the real power and the kind of business they dealt with at the Round Table was often heavy, dirty, and depressing. Surrounding themselves with lively and inspiring imagery went a long way towards reducing their collective stress. The same could be said of the extravagant meals and expensive alcohols that were often brought in by the cardinals themselves. Judging by the veritable feast presently laid out between them, today’s agenda was expected to be quite burdensome indeed.
“–so we can expect to finish revitalizing the region within the next four to six years.”
The man who just finished delivering a report was Cardinal Kristoph, head of the church’s Autumn Sect. His group primarily dealt with matters pertaining to the various mages’ guilds across the world, and the news he delivered concerned their ongoing efforts to bring life back to one of many ‘dust zones.’ These were territories so thoroughly ravaged by the War of the Ancients that even now, centuries later, they were completely unfit to sustain life. Even the deserts to the south and the frozen wastes to the north were more habitable since they weren’t plagued by magical anomalies and engineered monsters. Restoring a dust zone to livable land required a huge effort from mages of every elemental affinity. Earth to cultivate the soil, water to fortify budding life, air to stir the otherwise still winds, and fire… was nice to have around in case some ancient living weapon needed putting down. There was no denying that not all affinities were treated equal, and the aforementioned order reflected both the importance and the burden placed upon each type of wizard by the Autumn Sect’s agenda.
“Too slow. Are you sure there’s nothing you can do to expedite the process?”
Despite knowing all that, Cardinal Julianos of the Spring Sect couldn’t help but nag his colleague. An ignorant observer wouldn’t be surprised by this since a simple comparison between the two men made it clear which of them had the easier job. Where Kristoph was perpetually tired with bags under his eyes and was already balding at the age of thirty-five, his slightly older colleague looked to still be in his prime. In truth, that handsome face, well-kept beard, and tidy head of chestnut hair were a mask that hid his own fair share of troubles. Julianos was the ‘face’ of the church, which meant that he and his subordinates had the unenviable responsibility of dealing with heads of state and other influential organizations. He, and by extension the rest of the Cardinal Council, were under a lot of political pressure to step up their efforts to reclaim those dust zones. Humanity needed space and resources if it was to continue growing without turning on each other, after all.
“Not unless you can figure out how to make more mages,” Kristoph firmly said.
“The usual, then,” Julianos sighed. “Sorry for bugging you like this every time, but I’m already out of excuses to give.”
“It’s alright, I understand.”
Despite humanity’s population steadily increasing across the board, the number of people born with the gift was in a steady decline. These conflicting trends had stayed the course for the last two hundred years and were unlikely to change anytime soon. Even the most optimistic projections said that new mages would stop appearing completely in another two or three generations. Once they were all gone, humanity would no longer be able to undo the catastrophic damage the ancients wrought upon the world, and given the dust zones’ tendency to grow and expand if left untreated, it was all but certain the entire globe would be left a lifeless wasteland in due time. This was the apocalypse the Prophet foresaw, and though every man, woman, and child knew of the encroaching end, most saw it as something so far into the future that it wasn’t worth worrying about right now. Only the five gathered in this room were fully aware of just how close the situation was to becoming a lost cause.
“Now that the useless update is out of the way, let’s focus on something actually important, shall we?”
The next to speak up was Cardinal Amaranth, and the others couldn’t help but tense up when hearing her voice. She was without a doubt the scariest member of their council, and not just because of her harsh personality or the deep scar across her wrinkled forehead. Both were byproducts of her duties as head of the Summer Sect. Her people were responsible for sniffing out heretics, training and handling witch hunters, investigating corruption, and other internal affairs within the church. The other four knew exactly what matter she intended to bring up, which made all but one of them reach for a treat or drink to calm their nerves while Amaranth fished a small stack of documents from under the table.
“We finally have a full picture of what the hell happened at Roderick Asylum. As I suspected, the cult had inside help. One of the patients – a Hubert Jenkins – was recovering from a severe echo dust addiction. The enemy took advantage of that to coerce him into giving up crucial information pertaining to the asylum’s facilities, staff, and security. We are all but certain he was also the first one to succumb to the affliction.”
Much as a certain sagely wizard theorized, there was in fact a direct connection between the magic-boosting drug known as ‘moon sugar’ and the wizard-exclusive disease called ‘moon fever.’ Put bluntly, overdosing on the former caused the latter, but that rarely happened since it took a lot of the narcotic and there wasn’t much of it in circulation. At least, not until recently.
“We also believe the cult was somehow able to tamper with the antidote container,” Amaranth added. “There’s no hard evidence, but the ease with which it ruptured is highly suspect.”
“I was wondering about that,” Kristoph looked at his copy of the initial report. “I was pretty sure I saw one of those things get launched from a catapult without leaking a single drop during a demonstration. Silly to think it could break open just from being dropped in transit.”
“Could be the alchemists cutting corners again,” Julianos chimed in. “I’ll have some of my people do a series of surprise inspections.”
“So you’re good for something after all, huh?” the Summer Cardinal sneered.
“Don’t be like that,” he shrugged jokingly. “If not for the donations I bring in, things might’ve turned out even worse than they already have.”
“The Spring Cardinal speaks truly.”
The one to voice her opinion next was the second woman in attendance. She dressed as a mere nun and maintained a fittingly humble demeanor even though she shared the same rank as everyone else at the Round Table. Her name was Lucrecia, and her Winter Sect managed both the church’s coffers and its secrets. Only six people were aware of her true identity, and four of them were in this room. Even her closest aides and subordinates only knew her as Sister Lucy, an adjutant to the ‘real’ Winter Cardinal. She was without a doubt the most professional among her peers, seeing as she was the only one who didn’t give into the temptation of seeking comfort in food or drink earlier. Her somber and soothing voice quickly brought the atmosphere back to the appropriate levels of severity after Julianos subconsciously attempted to liven things up, after which she continued.
“I would not have allowed Brother Tacitus an unlimited operational budget if not for those generous contributions, and the supplies procured as a result showed a tremendous impact on the rescue mission’s outcome. That said, I cannot take any credit for that decision since this tragedy would have been avoided entirely if the cult’s movements hadn’t evaded my Silent Sisterhood’s notice.”
“A security breach this severe goes beyond mere negligence,” Amaranth took over. “They knew just where the gaps in our surveillance net were and how to fully exploit them. Whatever the cult’s true goal was, it must have been important enough to warrant their patron’s direct guidance.”
Though it was widely known that the gods of old were either dead or banished, not all of them were truly gone. Logoth, the former dwarven deity of magic and knowledge, was still around in a different form. He now fancied himself a god of death and secrets – the darker sides of his previous domains – and whatever he did to entice heretics into his service made them disturbingly eager to participate in suicide pacts. The church’s best theory was that he lured them in with empty promises of eternal pleasures in the afterlife when in truth he’d rather damn them all to perpetual suffering in the freezing depths of hell.
Those who knew of Logoth’s true identity believed that he held a deep grudge against humanity since it was a cabal of human mage-slaves who shattered the moon and nearly destroyed him in the process. Manipulating mankind into turning on each other was little more than an elaborate form of revenge. One could argue his resentment was unreasonable since thousands of human mage-slaves died in that grand ritual and they were forced into it by their elf masters, but the gods were rarely known to listen to reason. Also, it probably didn’t help that both dwarves and elves were long-gone while the cabal in question was technically still around, leaving the spiteful deity with no other outlet for his vengeance.
“If that’s true,” Kristoph leaned forward, “then I suspect fate might be at work here.”
Though it seemed odd for an organization founded by a so-called Prophet, this kind of talk was rarely taken seriously within its highest echelons. The founder’s far-reaching predictions were based on facts and trends rather than some nebulous force like destiny or providence. Those ‘diviniations’ were more like a set of objectives that humanity had to achieve for the sake of their own future. None scoffed at the idea that what had yet to come was set in stone more than the Cardinal Council, yet the others couldn’t help but silently agree with Kristoph’s words. It was he who nominated the Sage of the Sands as the one to entrust this moon fever outbreak to. Much as the sorceress herself suspected, she was chosen because she was deemed capable enough to handle the task, but not too powerful to risk her falling under the affliction’s influence. That she was a feyblood played a part in it too, as those with dwarven ancestry were much more susceptible to the control Logoth could exert through his curse. A fact she herself noted in her report of the incident.
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On that note, there was much that Acolyte Two-Fifteen could be commended for. Whether it be leadership, strategy, knowledge, observation, or magical proficiency, she truly exceeded expectations in every way possible. The grunts who assisted her had nothing but praise for her, and a few even believed her presence was a form of divine intervention even though that really wasn’t how their religion worked. They believed in concepts and ideals like the perseverance of the human spirit, not some cosmic sugar daddy. However, it was human nature to seek meaning in something greater than oneself, so this sort of thing happened now and then. It was nothing a few weeks of reeducation wouldn’t fix. While the soldiers were to be commended for their efforts, they couldn’t be allowed to spread dangerous ideas that might accidentally bring back the same gods that wrecked the world in the first place.
Then there was the matter of Brother Tacitus’s involvement. He had an outstanding performance review as well, but Amaranth wasn’t as lenient with her own people as Kristoph and was quick to condemn the few errors he made. His decision to ‘deputize’ the Sage of the Sands was especially controversial. While certainly within the range of the instructions he was given beforehand, he had certainly stretched those rules to their limit, and it was hard to say if that had been the right call even with the benefit of hindsight. The fault ultimately lay with the Summer Cardinal. She could have chosen a less defective witch hunter, but sent Tacitus because she assumed this would be a simple matter. Kristoph, on the other hand, could hardly believe how lucky he was that the sorceress was the one he settled on. Granted, he didn’t have a lot of options to begin with, but now that it was all but certain that Logoth was directly involved in the incident, it was difficult to write off her involvement as mere coincidence.
Who better to thwart the evil moon-god’s schemes than the most gifted student of the very same Order of Ash that nearly destroyed him four centuries ago?
“What do you think, Roland? Should we add her as a candidate for your project?”
The Autumn Cardinal turned to the fifth, final, and eldest member of the council. He was the leader of the Sun Sect and the one burdened with the most crucial task of them all. Everything the rest of the Round Table did was to buy time for Roland’s team to fulfill the Prophet’s envisioned solution to the encroaching apocalypse. The grand plan had been set in motion while the War of the Ancients was still in full swing and countless resources and thousands of lives had been sacrificed for its sake. No price was too great where humanity’s survival was at stake. Thankfully, it had already been paid in full by Roland’s predecessors. Their tireless efforts and untold sacrifices had given the Sun Sect the tools, means, and knowledge required to achieve their grand goal. The only thing they were missing was a key ingredient – an individual possessing several rare yet indispensable qualities, chief among them a mastery of the gods’ stolen gift.
“Perhaps,” the elderly gentleman nodded. “Her name had crossed my desk once or twice. I initially dismissed her viability as a candidate because of her origins, but I am willing to reconsider. Kristoph already spoke at length of her apparent abilities during our last meeting, so I would ask the rest of you for your opinions. Julianos?”
“Hmm,” the handsome Spring Cardinal furrowed his brow. “I recall some trouble involving her departure from Cherrytown. Apparently, she was asked to speak to the young Lady Raela Gervais – the duke’s daughter – on some private matter and ended up traumatizing the poor girl somehow. I’m not sure I can approve of someone like that.”
“Don’t speak without knowing all the facts,” the scar-faced Summer Cardinal reprimanded him. “Brother Tacitus secretly observed the whole exchange, so I know exactly what went down. I can provide copies of the relevant reports later, but to summarize, the little miss had awakened to an aptitude for fire magic and asked the Sage of the Sands for advice. That’s precisely what she got.”
“So, she wasn’t traumatized?” Roland questioned.
“Oh, I’m fairly certain she was. That was the point. She was confronted face-first with the harsh realities of what it means to be a fire mage, so she would have no illusion as to what awaited her should she venture down that thorny road. If she can’t stomach the thought of it, it’s best she gets muted before she gets herself killed.”
It was no surprise someone as strict as Amaranth was fine with that ‘scared straight’ method, though the rest of the council were of a different mind.
“I can’t say I approve,” the sleep-deprived Autumn Cardinal stroked his chin. “We could always use more wizards, and if the Roderick Asylum incident is any indication, the demand for pyromancers is likely to increase.”
The Cult of Logoth had been quiet for a long while, but if they made a big move like that then there was no doubt they had a lot more in store.
“I figured you’d say that,” Julianos said with a sigh. “Leave this matter with me.”
The two exchanged understanding nods.
“Then does the Spring Cardinal revise his stance on the Autumn Cardinal’s nomination?” Roland got the topic back on track.
“Not in the slightest. Acolyte Two-Fifteen needs to learn some tact before she earns my approval.”
“Very well. Sister Lucrecia, your thoughts?”
Nobody batted an eye when he failed to use the beautiful Winter Cardinal’s proper title. It slipped all their minds now and then.
“The spending habits she demonstrated showed remarkable restraint. Even when given unlimited funds, she abstained from frivolous or personal purchases and focused solely on items that would improve her mission’s success rate. To resist the temptation of worldly desires is commendable, and I trust Kristoph’s judgment when it comes to her abilities as a wizard. However, I have some concerns regarding her aptitude. Are we certain we wish to elect a fire mage as humanity’s potential savior?”
There was a brief pause punctuated by an air of levity as everyone else stifled a laugh with varying degrees of success. Even the ever-serious Amaranth couldn’t help but crack a small smile. The ‘sister’ was rather puzzled, though she kept that from showing on her face.
“Ah, forgive us, Lucrecia,” Kristoph said. “We sometimes forget you are the most recent addition to this council.”
“Indeed,” the Summer Cardinal spoke next. “Your predecessor has taught you well, but it seems this matter is something she neglected to inform you about.”
“Or rather, I suspect it was intentionally left out of your tutelage,” Julianos leaned forward with a smirk. “Gloriana always was a stickler for tradition, and I suppose this counts.”
“Your question is one that every cardinal before you, us included, has asked this council,” the eldest explained. “Consider it an informal baptism, of sorts. As for the answer, allow me to illuminate you.”
“I’d rather not,” Lucrecia curtly cut him off. “If you want to dump your exposition somewhere, do it in the lavatory. I only need the hard facts.”
Roland was utterly flabbergasted by this blatant disrespect, but it would appear he would get no sympathy from the others.
“I have to agree, you do tend to ramble quite a bit, old chap,” the Spring Seat chuckled.
“More like he just likes the attention,” the Summer Seat hit the nail on the head.
“We do have other matters to discuss, so let’s settle for the abridged version this time, yes?” the Autumn Seat mediated.
“There you have it, so spit it out already,” the Winter Seat broke character again. “Why are we considering a fire mage?”
“Very well,” Roland admitted defeat. “It has to do with the Prophet’s musings on the elements as recorded in the third chapter of the Dream.”
The Dream of Eternal Morrow wasn’t just the founder’s biography, but also the Church of Dawn’s holy book. It spoke on a great number of timeless topics such as morality, responsibility, and familial bonds. The part Roland mentioned was dedicated to humanity’s greatest and most deplorable achievement – stealing the gift of magic from the other races. It was a long, costly, and objectively reprehensible scheme headed by the Prophet himself, but without it there would be no future for either mankind or the scarred world they called home. Naturally, Lucrecia was well aware of the story. One didn’t reach the rank of cardinal without encyclopedic knowledge of the holy book’s contents, and now that she recalled them, she did indeed receive the answer to her question.
The Prophet believed that the four ‘basic’ elements were all tied to the existence of life on a fundamental level. Indeed, even a child could understand how people need air, earth, and water to survive, but what of fire? Hard to call such a thing necessary. It was dangerous albeit useful, yet far from vital. It was only natural that wizards of the associated aptitude would be seen in a similar light, even by themselves. However, what Lucrecia was reminded of was that ‘fire’ was merely the most obvious expression of the element’s true nature. It was the light of a clear summer’s day, the comfort of a lover’s embrace, and the safety of a roaring fire on a cold night. Heat was every bit as crucial to the existence of life as water or air, which meant that mages wielding its power were similarly instrumental in ensuring humanity’s ongoing survival. Somehow. It wasn’t easy for someone as pragmatic as Lucrecia to understand how such a power could cause anything but death and destruction, yet there was also no denying that there were plenty of things out there that could use a healthy serving of both. A deranged deity and his mindless minions, for example.
“Very well,” she relented. “If Cardinal Roland believes this Sage of the Sands to be of use to the Sun Sect, then I will not oppose Cardinal Kristoph’s nomination.”
“Ah, it seems you misunderstand,” the older gentleman interjected. “This isn’t a vote. I was merely seeking opinions to aid in forming my own. Do keep in mind we are talking about mere candidates – people with the potential to fulfill the Prophet’s vision. It is a long list with many names on it, and it changes constantly. The main reason the Sage isn’t already on it is because there is a limit to how many individuals my sect can effectively monitor and support at a time.”
“I see, my apologies,” the Winter Cardinal nodded. “Speaking of monitoring, given the rather extraordinary conclusion to the Roderick Asylum incident, I intend to place this mage under ongoing surveillance for her own protection.”
The Winter Sect did not usually take such an interest in the innocent, but this was by all means an extraordinary situation, and the woman in question was well worth the investment. Even without the whole candidate thing, her handling of the outbreak produced incredible results considering the cult’s active involvement. Of the 63 missing mages, she was able to rescue all but 19, one of whom was identified as the cult’s renegade earth mage who posed as a visitor. There was no trace of the other 18 and they were presumed dead, consumed entirely by whatever dark ritual the cult was conducting in the basement. The six who were chained up to that altar prior to the team’s final assault would have likely shared their fate. Incidentally, all of those were rockbloods, so their bloodline was no doubt vital to whatever dark purpose the heretics were attempting to achieve. Once that nasty situation was resolved, the rescue team was able to finish treating the few remaining afflicted with a mix of the familiar’s wild magic and the sealed weapon enchantments the sorceress had prepared before she drained herself completely.
30 of the 50 missing workers met a less ambiguous end as their remains were later discovered in a mass grave no doubt made by the cultists’ rogue soil-sifter. About half had perished from magic-inflicted wounds and the rest were mutilated horribly as part of some sick experiment involving echo dust much like the four who were rescued from the asylum’s upper floors. Those poor souls were still alive, but unlikely to make a full recovery. On the bright side, the rescue team found a group of 16 ungifted employees safe and sound in a secret chamber in the asylum’s underground levels. Years ago, one of Lucrecia’s agents happened to discover the hidden space and had converted it into a panic room stocked with supplies and rations, and led a group of survivors there when the outbreak occurred. Impressive work for such a young girl, but then again the Winter Sect had always been blessed with talented youth. Her efforts did more than merely save lives. The survivors’ testimonies helped Lucrecia’s people figure out how that disaster unfolded in the first place. There were clear signs that the Cult of Logoth had a degree of control over the affliction that the Church of Dawn was previously unaware of. Those fanatics would no doubt be quite pissed at Acolyte Two-Fifteen for not only ruining their plans but also exposing their secrets.
However, the cult wasn’t the only reason why Lucrecia deemed the Sage of the Sands needed to be placed under protective surveillance. There was also the matter of the mysterious dwarven warmage who was released and subsequently escaped at the incident’s climax. No, perhaps it was more accurate to say that he left. Though injured, he could have easily slaughtered everyone in the building if he so wanted. The wizard and witch hunter were both incapacitated and at his mercy, and neither the saber-tooth familiar nor the simple grunts would have been able to stop him. The ancient’s motives and identity remained unknown, though one thing could be gleaned from his parting words. Though Fifteen didn’t know their meaning, she was quick-witted enough to write down what she heard while they were still fresh in her mind. It had taken some time to identify the exact dialect the dwarf used and there was some dispute regarding the translation’s literal accuracy, but there was no question regarding its intended meaning.
“Good fight. Until we meet again.”