The sun dipped low behind the distant mountains, casting long shadows across the plains. Elder stood atop a ridge, the village of Hallowford shrinking below him. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of smoke from distant fires—evidence that conflict was never far.
Mara rode up beside him, her horse steady. "You've done well," she said. "Hallowford owes you, Elder. But the world beyond is not so forgiving. You've glimpsed only the edge of it."
Elder's eyes narrowed, scanning the horizon. A river of steel and flame stretched across the lands—a massive army marching beneath a crimson banner. Dragon symbols gleamed in the fading light, while blue-gold banners flew on the opposite side. Two forces, clashing endlessly, the scale unlike anything Elder had seen before.
The Covenant's voice slithered into his mind.
[The Crimson Horizon stretches before you. Observe, adapt, and survive. The world's blood will write your destiny.]
Elder swallowed hard. "Those… are empires?"
Mara nodded grimly. "The Crimson Dominion and the High Empire. Their war has raged for decades. Countless villages destroyed, countless lives lost. Hallowford barely survives because neither claims it… yet."
He felt the Seed pulse in his chest, the memory fragments from the Trial of Fire reminding him of the Dominion path. His thoughts drifted to power, to survival, to the strange pull the Covenant exerted over him.
"We need to leave the village," Mara said. "You've proven yourself here, but if we want to survive… you'll need allies. And the only way to earn them is to step into the battlefield, see the larger war."
Elder hesitated. "And if I fail?"
Mara's gaze was steel. "Then you die. But fail or not, you can't remain here forever."
The ridge trembled as distant horns blared. Elder squinted and saw mounted scouts moving toward the ridge from both armies. They were fast, skilled, and heavily armed—soldiers trained to kill anything in their path.
The Covenant's whisper was cold, almost amused:
[First contact with empires. Test your will. Blood will pay the toll.]
A squadron from the Crimson Dominion approached first. Their armor burned in the sunlight, crimson feathers adorning their helms. The leader, a tall knight with a jagged sword, dismounted. His eyes scanned the ridge and fell on Elder.
"You," the knight said, voice sharp. "Step down from the hill. State your allegiance."
Elder's heart raced. He could flee… he could fight… or he could deceive.
[Option: Engage / Retreat / Parley]
He chose parley. "I am Elder," he said calmly. "I have no allegiance yet. I seek knowledge, and survival—for myself and those under my protection."
The knight's eyes narrowed. "A wise choice… for now. The Crimson Dominion respects strength. Prove your worth, and perhaps we shall speak again."
With a flick of his wrist, the knight signaled, and the scouts dispersed back toward the army.
Elder exhaled slowly, heart still pounding. Mara's eyes studied him. "Clever. But you just dipped your toe into the ocean of power. Soon, you'll have to dive."
From the opposite horizon, a column of High Empire soldiers appeared. Blue-gold banners gleamed, cavalry charges ready to strike. Elder felt the enormity of the war pressing down—the sheer scale of forces, of politics, of death.
The Seed pulsed in his chest. The Dominion path whispered promises of command, of bending lesser wills. The Dominion fragment from the fallen knight yesterday—the memory—resonated with the distant army, as if sensing potential allies and enemies alike.
Elder realized then: survival alone was not enough. Influence, strategy, and alliances would define his path. The Covenant's trials had forged his body—but now, it demanded his mind.
Mara turned her horse toward him. "We leave at dawn. We scout their movements, seek those who can be swayed. Empires fight, yes—but they also bleed secrets. Learn them, and you may live to see another day."
Elder nodded, resolve hardening. The horizon glowed crimson and gold, a prelude to war. The world beyond Hallowford was vast, brutal, and unending.
But for the first time, Elder felt the weight of possibility. He was no longer just a survivor of villages and trials. He was a vessel, a pivot between empires, a force that could shape history—or drown beneath it.
The sun dipped fully behind the mountains, and the first stars glimmered faintly. Elder gazed toward the Crimson Horizon, the Seed in his chest throbbing like a drumbeat of fate.
The war had only begun.