Fear the blackened skies and the mountains that fall, fear the breaking of chains. Fear the untethered demons you have loosed, fear that their collars may slip. Fear. For the Night descends.

-Seer Ceros, Primarch of the Invisible Eye

The Shining City of Amaranth was the gleaming core of the Hierocracy, the center of its commerce and the beating heart of its Authority. Within walls that had never once been breached were hundreds of thousands of people, all of them living and dying within sight of the alabaster towers of the Hierei—those that sat upon the Conclave, that bore a portion of its Seat and Seal in order to govern the vast breadth of the nation. The largest portion of that Authority, however, sat upon the shoulders of a single individual.

The Hierophant.

Built as a mountain of stainless white stone, the Hierophant's Shining Palace dominated Amaranth. Its soaring arches and impossibly thin towers were filigree upon the stout, brutal construction of ten thousand chambers, and the sweeping grounds housed a veritable army of Priests, Paladins, Inquisitors, and all those that served the vaunted Three Orders. The Hierei were housed within the twelve towers that ran the circumference of the Palace, each connected to the others by a series of vaulted arches that were both incredibly delicate and improbably strong...and all of which lead to the grandest and tallest tower at the apex of the Palace, which was surmounted by the grandest of all statues, and Altar to the Light. The Tower of True Faith, it was called by some, though Kellis knew it by a different, older name.

En'Cridhe. The Star of Heaven. Kellis Faer, Hierei of Calumb, Pax'Vrell, and Sao'thun found himself enraptured by its majesty with every approach. Even now, as he rushed across the whisper-thin stonework from his own tower he could not help but appreciate the masterwork statues of Humans, their perfectly designed bodies lifting the exposed stairwell that spiraled around the Tower's circumference. Yet if one looked close enough, they would notice that not all of the statues were Human—a number of the huge statues were defaced, officially during a conflict in the Hierocracy's founding, but Kellis knew the damage was intentional. Faces and limbs were cracked and missing, but he had read the records and knew the secret histories the Priests kept.

A bell tolled, deep and loud enough to shake his Tempered organs. Kellis sped up, pressing his old bones as fast as he could to cross the distance above the Shining Palace, before ducking into the shadowed doorway at its end. Mana crystals dotted the walls, shaped into exquisite facsimiles of flame, each one blooming with a brilliant golden, magical light. Such light was said to expose the lies of the wicked or untrue before they could be granted an audience with the Conclave but that, at least, was only superstition.

Not that we disabuse anyone of that notion, the Hierei thought with an inward smile. He took several surreptitious gulps of air in an attempt to calm his thudding heart. Far easier to deal with supplicants when they are too afraid to lie properly.

Down a winding corridor, built of a gorgeous mix of white marble and golden filigree, was a large door guarded by two men in milky-white armor and an eclectic array of vicious weaponry. The door was covered in ornate details, things Kellis no longer noticed, but which were suitably impressive to the masses: the Shining City and, above it, a figure of indeterminate features, radiating light like the sun itself.

The guards' eyes met Kellis' own, and a shiver of fear chased itself down his back. He refused to let it show. The High Guard only respected warriors, and while the Hierei was not of that number, he found that cowering did little to endear them to him. Still, he gave a tiny inclination of his head—the smallest recognition of their station—and was responded to in kind.

The door was ajar, and Kellis slipped through, feeling the eyes of the High Guard following him.

Within was an antechamber that the Hierei walked quickly across, and he soon entered the wide, domed expanse of the Conclave. Within was more of the same: highly polished white marble, golden decoration, and dark, masterwork tables and chairs. Atop a raised dais, a throne of ivory, white jade, and deep, gleaming lengths of golden crystal sat empty, yet exuding an irrefutable sense of majesty. The room, normally filled with the Hierei, was empty save for three others.

"You are late, Faer," Hierei Mivun chastised in his deep voice. "Seventh glass sharp was the designation."

"My deepest regrets, Brother Mivun."

"The bells rang not a few heartbeats ago, Mivun," said the whip-thin Hierei Quist, her face drawn into a dismissive moue. "Leave off and let us begin."

"I apologize to the esteemed Hierei, but the bells ended, that means it is no longer the advent of the seventh glass." Mivun rumbled discontentedly, his bulk shifting within his pale robes. "Precision matters, in all things. It is the virtue by which Order is maintained."

"Order is nothing before the Strength to enact it," said Hierei Quist, her face creasing with disdain. "Precision, while vaunted, cannot match the conviction to advance."

"And conviction is nothing if the soul is not cleansed by Purity," said Hierei Lar, the pale robes of his station cut by a lavender sash. He frowned at them all. "This is not an argument worthy of our time, Brothers and Sister. The Night moves against us as we dawdle, speaking of Ideals."

"I could not agree more," said a new voice, one Kellis knew almost better than his own. A woman in pure white robes stepped from behind the throne with two of the High Guard at her side, a silver diadem on her brow and an alabaster staff in her left hand. "Order is maintained by Strength, Strength is maintained by Purity, and Purity finds its fullest measure only under Order. These are the Ideals by which I have built this nation, how I bound our Fates together under the auspices of the Pathless. It is by these Ideals that we still stand, free of the greater threats upon the Continent, and it is by them that we shall have victory before the Night."

As one, the Hierei dropped to a single knee, even the ponderous bulk of Mivun. "Glory be to the Hierophant, Servant of the Remnant King, the Trackless Lord."

"May all your Paths shine under the light," the woman intoned. Kellis shivered at the simple, earnest compassion in her voice. "Please, stand."

They did, and the Hierophant looked to them all in silence for an extended moment. The woman was neither old nor young, comely nor haggard, though her hair was long and lustrous and her smile bright and unbroken. Lines crinkled the edges of her eyes, proof of her incredible age—for a Paragon to exhibit even that much meant she had lived far longer than all of the Hierei combined. They were only Grandmasters, after all, still mortal. Ocalla Marzul, Hierophant of the Shining City and Ruler of the Hierocracy was something far more.

"Lar, what news have you?" she asked, voice an ethereal mix of warm regard and cold command. "How fares the West?"

"It remains, as it always has, beneath your benevolent hand," Lar said with a deep bow. His lavender sash swayed with the movement. "But there has been unrest at the furthest reaches."

"You speak of the upstart? This...Autarch?" the Hierophant asked, and a chill descended upon the chamber. Kellis barely suppressed a shiver.

"Felix Nevarre. Yes. As I have mentioned before, my Inquisitors were in the area before this strange barrier was erected. They were searching for the Unbound, as you ordered us, and were set to capitalize upon some unique resources. The Foglands had opened up, and the treasures within that untouched vista are said to be as potent as anything within the Interior." Lar's voice stumbled as he caught the Hierophant's uninterested glare. "But, I uh have not heard from a single one since the barrier went up. I saw that more Inquisitors were dispatched to the edge of it, halfway through the city of Setoria, but none have been able to penetrate it." Lar shook his head, and Kellis could hear the bare flicker of fury from the man's Spirit. "It is a potent working, fueled by a higher Tier of Authority."

Hierei Mivun tried to gasp quietly, but it was loud as a Smith's bellows. "Such a thing is not possible."

Kellis agreed. Not all Authority was created equal, not for Ages. Even the Seats and Seals upon which their own power was based was—for all its complexity—a butchered version of the processes of their forebears. The old ways were Lost, Ruined in Ages past and buried beneath the ever-growing mountains of time.

"Nevarre," Quist said, rolling the surname across her tongue. "The name sounds Wyvarren. Is there a House Nevarre on record?"

"Not that I have found," Lar admitted. "The Master Archivist is still looking, but we've precious little from Wyvarr due to the civil war last century. He's not of the Major Houses, of that we are certain."

"Then we simply let this act of rebellion go unchecked?" Mavun said imperiously. He was very carefully not looking at the Hierophant as he vented. "It is asking for far worse from this supposed Autarch."

"Enough. Let us think on this. Quist, speak of the South. How goes the conquest of the Scorched Expanse?"

The woman quivered under that gaze, and bowed her head. "I fear I too have unfortunate news. Contact with High Justiciar Haim has been...severed."

Kellis drew a sharp breath, as did everyone save the Hierophant. She only blinked slowly. "And the Regalia?"

Quist wet her lips, and clutched her hands before her. "Lost."

Kellis reeled at the implications of Quist's words. To have lost a piece of the Pathless' mortal Regalia? Such an artifact was precious beyond measure, and Kellis was astounded it had been gifted to the Paladins of all people.

"So your Paladins are dead," the Hierophant said.

Quist nodded unhappily. "It must be assumed so, your Eminence. No Ffen have been received, nor messages upon the Waystones in Ghreldan. For the moment, I must assume the Kel'lyv discovered the ruse and turned upon our forces. No other explanation makes as much sense."

The Hierophant nodded. "I agree. The Grandmaster of Desert's Fire has always been a rabid dog. I had hoped that the Paladins would be able to put him down, but he and his Territory were of minor importance. What of the Unbound?"

"They found him. A Minotaur of incredible Strength and some sort of necromantic ability." Quist's expression twisted. "But the creature has continued to evade my Paladins. His whereabouts are currently...unknown."

Silence poured into the Conclave, a thing alive and volatile. The Hierophant did not stare at any of them, but glowered upward, at the apex of the domed chamber where a hanging Mana crystal had been grown. The silence stretched and wavered, a steady, pulsing flex like the echo of his own heartbeat. Sweat gathered at the nape of Kellis neck, clinging as if too afraid to drop for the noise it would make.

Quist stumbled through the silence, clearly unable to take it any longer. "I—I can send more men into the waste. I am already mustering another battalion to—"

"No," the Hierophant snapped.

The silence returned, heavier this time and edged in something so very close to violence. Kellis watched the Hierophant's fingers flex on her staff, hard enough to creak the Tier X stone it was constructed from and turn her knuckles white. All of them went still, too afraid to even look at one another.

She raised her staff and rapped it against the floor. A boom loud enough to shatter a Journeyman's eardrums ripped across the chamber. "What matters is corralling these wild Unbound. We have lost contact with Haim, meaning the Unbound likely overcame him. How, in such a short amount of time in that blasted desert, I haven't the foggiest. But that means he is too dangerous to bring in...for now. Instead we must focus on those who have not yet amassed such power."

"The Gnome and the twins," Kellis said. "Unless you have word of the others?"

"Not as of yet. But you are correct. Quist, send a small contingent into the Expanse and dig around. See how Ahkestria has fended off my soldiers, and locate the Unbound but do not engage. Mivun, focus your efforts in the East upon the twins. I know you've had little progress, but I assume a battalion of Paladins and Inquisitors would aid your search?"

"It would indeed, your Eminence."

The Hierophant locked eyes with Kellis. "And Faer, you have tracked the Gnome down to a city along the Rimefangs?"

"I—I have, your Eminence. It is between three cities, actually," Kellis started, but was cut off.

"You shall have the resources needed to secure the creature, simply let the seneschals know of your needs."

Kellis bowed as deeply as his old bones could manage, forcing his Spirit to beat a tattoo of grateful relief.

"What of the Autarch?" Lar asked. "How would you like me to proceed?"

"I am unconcerned with this lordling's attempts at rebellion. Even he must know that the Path he walks is one that leads nowhere but the grave, which is why he maintains that barrier. Nevarre is of minor importance. Soon so much will be changed."

"Then let us send the High Guard, your Eminence," Lar suggested. "They will make short work of the barrier and reclaim the Territory for you at minimum cost. The added Authority will only be beneficial in the face of our Adversary."

The Hierophant pursed her lips before nodding. "A small contingent, same as the Paladins. Let it be done."

"As you will," Lars said, bowing gracefully once more. "This Nagast will fall before the end of the year."

The Hierophant waved a hand, dismissing the man's words. "As I have said, its re-acquisition is of minor importance. But...Faer."

Kellis couldn't help jerking slightly in surprise. "Yes, your Eminence?"

The Hierophant paused, tapping her lips with a slender finger. "Your situation is uniquely suited to testing our newest recruit. I would like you to take them with you when you return to the North." She rapped her staff once more on the ground, and a door opened somewhere behind the throne.

"Newest..." Kellis' voice trailed off as a woman was led into the room, her face hidden by a mask and her body covered in enough Master Tier armor to assault a mountain. The unmistakable weight of her unveiled Spirit was like a blow to the spine. Small shouts of alarm erupted from them all, until the Hierophant gestured sharply and the pressure vanished.

"Unbound..." Lar whispered, astounded. "I had not known she was...ready."

"She is well trained, her Skill levels advanced far beyond what my people can teach her." The Hierophant's hand clasped around the other woman's armored bicep. She was perhaps a full stride taller than the Hierophant, but just as slender despite the armor. "Imara is ready to truly experience what the Continent has to offer. Aren't you?"

"Yes," Imara said, but Kellis recoiled at the sound of her voice. "Yes, I wish to see it all."

Her voice sounded dead.