The old wooden doors of the shadowed church creaked closed, cutting off the last sliver of moonlight. Within the dim, flickering interior, a robed cultist knelt at the front of the sanctuary, head bowed low before an altar twisted with bone and black crystal. The pews behind him were filled with other cultists, faces shrouded by hoods, watching in silence.
A large orb rested on the altar, pulsing with a dim red glow. The surface shimmered, and an image began to form—a man cloaked in darkness, his face obscured by a steel mask carved with intricate runes.
"Report," came the voice from the orb. Cold. Commanding.
The kneeling cultist's voice trembled as he spoke. "My Lord... the group of traders we targeted—they defeated the others. All of them. The beasts we summoned... they were slain."
The Lord's voice turned sharp. "And the funds I provided for the mission?"
"Gone, my Lord. Taken by the traders."
A dangerous silence lingered.
"And you fled," the Lord said slowly, voice heavy with malice. "You ran!"
The cultist lowered himself even further. "I possess no combat abilities, my Lord. Had I stayed, I would've perished without contributing. I thought it better to bring you information."
The orb flared red. "Information? Did you at least learn their identities?"
The cultist nodded quickly. "Yes, my Lord. I recognized them—Erion, former swordsman and merchant; Mira, his granddaughter; Thorne and Bran, city guards; and Erion's caravan mage, Erion called him Kael—but I do not know anything more about him."
The air in the church thickened as the Lord's presence surged through the orb.
"Useless worm."
From somewhere within the darkness of the Lord's chamber—on the other end of the orb—a dagger lifted into the air, spinning once in place. Then, without warning, it vanished.
In the church, the kneeling cultist gasped as the blade reappeared midair behind him and drove itself deep into his spine. He collapsed forward, dead before he hit the ground.
The other cultists remained silent.
The orb pulsed again. "You all know what must be done. Find this Kael and his companions. Bring them to me. Dead or Alive."
The orb dimmed and faded to black.
—
In a stone chamber on the far side of the continent, the Lord stood before a bloodstained altar, the air around him thrumming with residual power. He clenched his gloved fist.
"I should have sent stronger members," he muttered. "This Kael… whoever he is, he's disrupted too much already."
The Lord turned toward the massive tome on the altar and flipped through the pages with a wave of his hand.
"No more mistakes."
Darkness thickened around him as he began to prepare for what came next.