The Ruined Lands had long since claimed the ancient city of In’iren.
The once-parks grew wild and untamed; towers and spires that once stretched to the skies lay toppled and broken. On the streets, the scarce weeds of the Ruined Lands pushed their way through the cracks in the old concrete, forcing apart, breaking down what was once the mark of man.
An eerie silence lay over the land, the silence of the grave. Only the fallen wandered here, breathless and quiet. Revenants and spirits hid from the scythe of final death, clinging to their rage, to their hatred, to the silence of the city.
And yet, today, the silence was broken.
“Ain’t nothing ‘bout this old city to be afraid of,” a man’s boisterous laugh came echoing down the empty, endless streets. “All memory and shadow. Not a thing what can hurt ya.”
A boy’s quiet, nervous voice came in reply. “Shadows can hurt. Memories can kill.”
“Yea, in Fae!” the man laughed harder. “This be the Ruined Lands, boy. The nearest Fae circle is a hundred miles south.”
Two figures stepped out into an open plaza, each wearing long, heavy robes of warm fur and cloth to protect against the deep, deathly chill that pervaded the Ruined Lands.
The first came in, his eyes deep and sharp and dark, his shoulders thick and broad, the corners of his mouth crooked upwards in an easy smile. His name was Alvar and he was an adventurer. The second stepped out of the darkness, his eyes bright and bold and wary, nervously glancing about. He was short and stout, with broad shoulders and a broad heart. His name was Erahan, and he bore the distinctive crest of a magus acolyte.
“So, what are we here for?” Erahan asked, speeding up to keep stride with his older companion.
“We’re here ta check on the Ka’eren Seal,” Alvar replied.
“What’s that?” Erahan asked, a sudden gust of wind sending his dark cloak billowing out behind him. He blinked a few times to get rid of the dust.
Alvar grinned sneakily. This was his favorite part of bringing newbies. “Ya know what Ka’eren means?”
Erahan shook his head. “I recognize the language. It’s Arcane from the peak of the Imperium.”
“Ya got that right,” Alvar replied. “As for what it means... ever hear of the World Ender?”
Erahan stopped dead. “Wha—no.” He stared at Alvar with incredulous eyes. “Impossible.”
“Aye,” Alvar said, stopping as well. “I said the same thing my first time.”
“I thought... I thought that was just a myth!” Erahan gasped. “When I was young—”
“Yer parents told ya stories about it? Aye. So did mine,” Alvar interrupted. “So did everybody’s. Most people think Ka’eren is just a story, a myth. The Guild likes to keep it that way. Less panic. Less chance some madman comes out here and sets it loose.”
“So... what is it?” Erahan asked. “The World Ender—Ka’eren—was one of my favorite things to read about when I was young. Every story has a different... image.”
Alvar scratched his chin. “The Church of the Holy Trinity, back when they were in power, purged every factual mention of it from the world. Now, all that’s left are stories, so nobody really knows. Well... nobody except the few people who lived back then, some three hundred and fifty cycles ago. Like Ishtar, the mage-lord of the south. But he sure ain’t talking.”
“I always thought that one of the most plausible theories was that it was a dragon. A black dragon,” Erahan said. “With wings like midnight and eyes like opals.”
“Ash and blood fall like snow and rain, The Dragon spreads its wings upon the mountains of dead and countless slain, as the Moon passes once more into its mournful wane.” Alvar paused. “Or somethin’ like that.”
“Exactly,” Erahan replied. “So you don’t know what it is? Can’t you just look into the seal?”
Alvar laughed, a deep, echoing laugh that rang out through the empty streets and crumbling buildings of the fading city. “Look into the seal? Boy, I don’t have a death wish. And even if I did, I wouldn’t want to bring the whole world with me.”
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“Some people would,” Erahan said darkly.
Alvar turned somber. “Aye, and that’s why the Guild and Tower only send two every time—two they can trust. Apparently, we can trust you, boy.”
Erahan nodded. “You can.”
Alvar shrugged. “Tis not my place to judge. The Tower Master’s a better eye than I.”
Erahan knelt down to examine the weeds growing through the stone. “Why do they call this place the Ruined Lands? Aside from the obvious reason, of course.”
“I dunno,” Alvar replied. “Must be some reason. Suspect its somethin’ to do with the fall of the Imperium. This was its capital, ya know?”
Erahan stood. “I see. We should go. The sooner we get this over with, the better.”
Their footsteps resounded once more upon the old road, the sound almost drowned out by the murmur of their voices as they walked.
“Ya know, ya can see the Ka’eren seal from here,” Alvar said. “It’s that big tower right there.”
Erahan looked up, and sure enough, there it was. The tower, one of the few yet intact in the city of ruins, stretched to the skies, broadening toward its highest point. It almost seemed like an oversized nail sticking out of the ground, ready to be hammered down into the ground.
“Legend says the seal can hold a god, and you know what, I say that too,” Alvar said with a sly smile on his face as if expecting something.
Erahan glanced back at him. “How would you know that? I mean, how could you know that the seal could hold a god?”
Alvar’s smile expanded. “Well, ain’t it already holding one?”
Erahan turned the corner. The sound of his footsteps stopped. Alvar followed him.
Silence rang through the city, a heavy, weighty silence.
The two men stared blankly at the Ka’eren seal... or what used to be the Ka’eren seal. A maw of darkness glared back at them from the tower’s base, a gaping hole where the strange metals and alloys of the seal had been blasted apart.
The hole was enormous. Big enough to fit a giant. Big enough to fit a dragon. Big enough to fit anything, really. But that wasn’t what was on the two men’s minds.
Alvar’s smile vanished like the fleeting morning mist in the burning afternoon sun. Erahan, picking up on his partner’s change of mood, licked his lips, which had suddenly turned dry.
“That’s not... good, is it?” Erahan asked.
Alvar stayed silent for a moment, then shook his head mutely.
Erahan picked up on the words that he left unsaid. Anything ‘not good’ related to the Ka’eren seal was terrible. Catastrophic. Disastrous. Apocalyptic.
Unbidden, the thought that the Imperial language had too many words to describe disaster appeared in his mind. He cast it away, but what came next was worse.
Images of fire and brimstone, of yawning chasms in the earth, of entire cities falling to destruction, of a black dragon’s wings shading the mournful moon.
A sinking pit appeared in his stomach, dragging his heart down to his gullet.
Alvar reached into his bag, his suddenly-numb fingers fumbling with the clasp. “We must inform the Guild and the Tower at once. The Masters must know,” he said. His voice was suddenly razor sharp and clear as crystal, the accent he’d held the entire trip vanishing like smoke into the empty air.
Erahan caught it for a moment, then gave up the thought. Whether his partner was faking his accent or not was utterly unimportant. “Yes, of course.”
He reached into his bag, bringing out a communication crystal. He opened his mouth, then stopped, thinking of what he was going to say.
We’re all going to die?
The apocalypse is coming?
A memory flickered dimly in his mind.
“Tell me immediately if anything is coming. Tell me if anything is wrong.”
He tapped it, imbuing the crystal with his mana. It hummed and shook, then lifted off his hand and projected an image of a white-haired man, his cracked glasses and trimmed beard lending him a scholarly look.
“What is it?” the Tower Master asked. “What’s wrong?”
Erahan opened his mouth a second time and stopped a second time. Instead, he shook his head and turned the crystal so that the Ka’eren Tower was facing it.
“Ah,” the Tower Master said. “That... is not good. Have you contacted the Guild?”
Erahan glanced over to his partner’s side. Another crystal glimmered in the air, projecting the image of a red-bearded bald man. “Yes, Archmagus. Alvar is contacting them.”
“I see,” the Tower Master muttered. He turned away from the crystal.
Erahan held his tongue a moment longer, then asked a question. “Archmagus?”
“Mmm?” the Tower Master asked. “What is it?”
Erahan grimaced. “What are we going to do?”
The Tower Master stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. “What are we going to do? Simple. We will inform the Kingdoms, the Empire, and the Islands to prepare their defenses.”
Erahan asked another question. “What am I going to do?”
The Tower Master sighed, then waved his hand, beginning to close the connection. He left only a few words hanging in the air before the screen winked out of existence.
“You? Pray.”