The night sky hung low, dense black clouds obscuring the many constellations while a fragmentary moon appeared intermittently between the clouds, casting mottled and shadowy light.
In an ancient, desolate ruin beneath the Cyart Royal Capital, the area was encircled by withered vines and twisted trees, the air filled with an indescribable scent of decay and malevolence.
Suddenly, a deep, prolonged horn sound sliced through the night sky, resembling a call from ancient times that awakened the dark forces slumbering beneath the earth.
With the echo of the horn, a group cloaked in gray robes, their faces shadowed by hoods, noiselessly gathered on this cursed land.
They marched in eerily uniform steps, holding various kinds of sacrifice in their hands.
Live creatures struggled and emitted cries of despair, gems that flashed an ominous glow, and scrolls engraved with ancient runes, each emanating a heart-palpitating evil energy.
