by a large dome, which was an unusual sight for such a place. Its stone construction clashed with its surroundings, and a sinister atmosphere suffused it. It served as the refuge of a substantial group of mages who had broken away from Draelia’s High Order of Magic and Alchemy, and proclaimed themselves the Fellowship of the Veil, several years after the Great Reconciliation.
More than two centuries had passed since the discovery of a mine full of peculiar never-before-seen green crystals. Disputes arose between the High Order of Magic and Alchemy, and the Symeris Order of Arcane Scholars, as both wanted to take credit for discovering their qualities. The crystals were carefully extracted in small quantities, and the mages devoted themselves to their study. Yet they soon encountered serious difficulties, and at a certain point, all of the mages who had busied themselves examining these crystalline formations began to exhibit madness and paranoia, prompting the High Order to suspend their investigations. The Archmages limited access to the extraction chamber by casting an illusion spell, and by stationing a guardian golem that would take form from the rock and dust should anyone tread upon the magic glyphs.
That being said, some stubborn mages of noteworthy talent managed to avoid the glyphs and sneak into the mine, so as to continue extracting the crystals. They started gathering in secret to study the stones’ bizarre properties. Many succumbed to madness and death, but through their sacrifices, the mages came to understand how the crystals worked. The Fellowship of the Veil was formed in that period, and remained hidden and forgotten for a long time. Not even the Archmages of Olennon remembered them.
The mages of the Fellowship discovered that the crystals had to be stabilized before they could be used, feeding each of them with a person’s life essence. A large quantity of stabilized crystals, when gathered in the same place, would begin to form small temporal distortions. Before long, the mages realized that those small, floating rifts of light were slowly growing, and that strange whispers were coming from the other side. The voices became more and more substantial, and echoed in the minds of the mages, addicting and enslaving them to the whispers. They became unable to perform the simplest of tasks without receiving their instructions. The Priestesses, guided by the potent Sight of the seers and the High Priestess, directed those mages to commit heinous acts, including atrocious murders. They taught the mages the perfect ritual to feed the crystals, and helped them choose the perfect victims. Quite often, these poor unfortunate souls ended up being children up to fifteen years old, as they were considered the purest fuel.
After more than a century, the ever-increasing number of crystals had transformed those rifts into a huge portal, beyond which Fellowship mages could view an arid, foggy world of grey.
At the same time, on Alceas (the other side of the portal), the tulvaren legions were ready to cross the threshold into Elantion for the third time. King Athal waited to receive the latest news from his Commanders, surrounded by all his stern and fearsome family members. As soon as everything was ready, Athal spurred his horse, and the horns sounded the advance. The immense column of soldiers generated a deafening din as they marched. It was a warm and clear June day on Elantion, very different from the smoky and gloomy Alceas. Athal passed through the portal, and his horse’s hooves tread upon the stone-slab floor of the Fellowship temple. The Third Tulvaren Invasion of Elantion had commenced.
II
An unexpectedly cold autumn had come to Draelia, on the heels of an oddly hot summer, as though the seasons themselves were affected by the tragic events that gripped the world. The sky grew more leaden with time, and frigid air lashed every corner. In some areas, the fog was thick, and in others, the rain gave no respite. But apart from the tulvaren army, there was no longer anyone beyond the boundaries of Elelreel—neither human, nor elf, nor dwarf. Two and a half years after the invasion was initiated, not much was left of the Monarchy of Draelia; all that remained were the few strongholds and cities that the tulvars rebuilt after destroying. The divine powers of King Athal, of his Commanders, and of the High Priestess had helped them stand victorious.
In those days, the tulvar Sheera Khelun, Commander of the Violet Archers and royal daughter, rode her dappled grey horse (a large and inexhaustible steed, and her companion on many journeys) toward the village of Deryel, situated at the mouth of the winding Spur Valley. The emblem of the House of Khelun, a black flame on a red background, which she had embroidered on her cloak and engraved on the leather of her armor, made her immediately recognizable. Her helm, which sported a long black horsetail, was symbolic of her title as Commander, and the meticulous finishes on her armor affirmed her royal lineage. Sheera was tall, and regarded as very beautiful among the tulvars. Her long oval face was framed by black hair, long on one side and almost shaved on the other, which provided a contrast with her ashen grey skin. Her small, almond-shaped eyes, a characteristic of all tulvars, were a very intense red, and topped by thin black eyebrows. She had a long nose that was slightly pronounced, and her lips were wrinkly and not very full. On her left cheek, two ritual scars indicated her spiritual path. Uniquely, Sheera had a large purple iridescent spot that trailed from her left side all the way to her neck. In tulvaren culture, this was viewed with suspicion; in fact, it was said that whoever was born with the Abyssal Sigil could prove either a blessing or a curse upon the entire race.
She was ordered to journey to Deryel as quickly as possible by direct order of the High Priestess. Upon arriving, she got off her horse, left it at the pole, and approached the Governor. “I hope the load is ready… my patience is at its end,” she said, her voice coarse, as she gave her fellow tulvar a letter.
“It’s going to take time to prepare the crates,” began the Governor, as he read it. “Besides, only the best crystals are selected for the High Priestess.” He was hunchbacked from age, and much shorter than the Commander, his rumpled and frayed clothes dragging against the ground.
Sheera brought her hand to her sword and pulled it slightly from its scabbard. “Load. The. Crates.”
The Governor stiffened. The reputation of the King’s daughter preceded her, and none of the tales involved generosity or mercy.
Sheera and the heavy and noisy wagon left Deryel, and in a few days’ time, they arrived at the Eyjanborg Temple, where the High Priestess Yvalee made her anger at the delay known. The secondary portals that had opened to the south, in the heart of Symeris and Austur, had now lost their power, and their threshold was impassable by the tulvaren soldiers who had to invade those lands. The crystals would have served Yvalee precisely to restore power to the portals, even if the ritual would have been slow and involved. Sheera greeted her mother and reassured her that her anger would vanish as soon as she laid eyes on the crystals.
The High Priestess opened a chest, and her eyes lit up as soon as she verified their purity. “Bring in the crates,” ordered Yvalee. She then turned to Sheera. “When will you take the oath?”
“Never,” she declared.
“Don’t you think your rebellious phase has gone on a bit too long?”
“Even so, I will never become a priestess.”
“You’ll come to see your folly, sooner or later,” said Yvalee, glaring.
The great Temple of Eyjanborg had just been finished, and the large round hall, covered by an enormous dome painted in gold, accentuated the sacredness of the place. Sheera was momentarily entranced at the sight. She lost sight of her mother and saw her sister Auril emerge from a side room. Auril approached Sheera and gave her a nod, and nothing more. The younger of the sisters was shorter than Sheera, albeit slightly, and she too had black hair, though hers fell well below the lower back. Her long, spindly arms ended in bony hands and pointed fingers. Her face was very thin and devoid of scars, and her eyes were red, small, and distant, with fine eyebrows. Her nose was long and a tad pronounced, and her wrinkled lips were made dark using a lipstick composed
