Prologue

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In the crimson glow of a blood moon, flames consume a glorious city. The air echoes with a cacophony of screams, mingled with howling winds and the crashing of stone brick as buildings crumble. Amid the mayhem, people flee from burning homes and ravaged ruins, while hapless guards defend the besieged city with canons and arrows.

High above, a red dragon soars in the skies, spewing forth fire and fury from its maw. A flash of lightning illuminates the pitch, briefly highlighting the beast’s massive silhouette among the swirling dark clouds.

The air is heavy with the stench of sulfur and smoke. Your lungs burn, and tears blur your vision. You survey the chaos with a stricken face. This death, this… destruction, it’s all on you. You’ve failed. How could you fail? Armed with every resource and ounce of great power you possessed, how could you fail?

The screams of these poor damned souls echo in your ears, while the sickening stench of decay makes your stomach churn.

Summoning the last shreds of resolve, you pick yourself upright. Pain shoots through your abdomen, your legs trembling like fragile reeds as you hobble and collapse against a charred carriage.

“Up,” you growl through gritted teeth. “Get up!”

But your broken body doesn’t obey. You seethe. “I-I… I can still fix this. I will. Get. Up.”

Despite the pain, you get to your feet, swaying. You’ve lost a lot of blood already. You’ll only lose more if you do nothing. You take your first step forward, but a violent gust of wind sends you staggering and crashing to the ground, face-first.

Sprawling on the street, dazed, you watch in terror as the dragon dives and descends upon you like a reaper of death. Paralyzed in fear, you’re helpless as it lands with earth-shattering force, its broad wingspan leveling two homes on either side of the street.

Your heart lurches in your chest. Staggering to your feet, you watch the beast’s scales begin to shimmer and smoke, as if searing hot. Quickly, the white haze engulfs its entire form. And it’s not the magnificent monster that comes out, but a man.

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An imposing figure emerges from the dissipating mist, draped in flowing dark robes that billow around him like shadows. He’s broad-shouldered and tall, walking with a commanding gait. Though his face remains hidden within the depths of his hood, fiery strands of hair cascade from the shadows.

The sight of him sends a stake through your heart. But you steel yourself in place, even as he stops a few mere paces away. A hard lump in your throat, like coal, briefly stifles you. Soon, you find your voice.

“Anseth” you murmur, your voice a mere whisper, barely audible above the roar of destruction. “The world burns around you—your Queen’s city has fallen. Yet, your lust for revenge isn’t satisfied?”

If your words garner any reaction from him, it’s perfectly concealed by his shroud. When he speaks, his voice is a mere whisper among the chorus of agony surrounding you. “How many times have we met here, Architect? How many times more will we?”

“As many more as it takes,” you reply. “I made you a promise.”

Briefly, Anseth’s stiff demeanor falters. His shoulders slump, and his head droops, as if weighed down by something heavy. But he quickly regains his composure. “I’m sorry, Architect. But there’s no turning back. We may wind up on this very same path over and over for an eternity, for I am resolute in reaching my goal.”

“That’s the serpent speaking,” you reason. “It’s not you!”

He doesn’t seem to hear you. Drawing a long sword from his robes, he raises it high, its blade gleaming under the red moon.

“Anseth!” you scream at him, your voice breaking with desperation. “We can fix this! I promise, we-we can—!”

The metallic swish of a blade slicing through the air interrupts your plea, followed by your sputtering gasp. Run through by his blade, pain explodes through your body. You stagger and crash to the ground, groaning in pain. As the blade is withdrawn, you hug your midsection. Blood soaks your shirt and seeps into the earth.

“N-no,” you gasp. “I-I made you a promise. I made you a promise, and-and… and I mean to keep it.”

Anseth kneels over you, his form shadowing yours. Reaching out a gray, ash-stained hand, he brushes your face and traces the contours of your cheek to your shuddering lips. “Go quietly this time, Architect. Return stronger, or not at all.”

You gaze upon him with wet eyes. A single tear falls down your face and into the pool of blood collecting beneath you. “What did I do wrong?” you croak. “What could I have done differently?”

Anseth offers no solace. From his boot, he retrieves a dagger with an intricate golden handle and shining blade. Clasping the amber amulet on your breast, he snaps it from your neck and hovers his dagger over your heart.

“Go quietly… please.”

In a swift motion, pain sears through your chest. A gasping cry escapes your lips, and through a dimming haze, you watch Anseth’s silhouette rise and walk away. Your life fades as he does, and the last sight you behold is the glorious crimson moon, gazing upon you like an eye from another world…