Part 1: The Ominous Dawn
The darkened sky loomed over the vast continent, casting a shadow that stretched far and wide. The once-thriving lands, rich with the ambitions of the seven nations, now bore an eerie silence, save for the restless whispers of the wind that carried a foreboding message. It was as if the very world held its breath, awaiting the storm that had begun to form in the unseen depths of existence.
In the heart of Valkarath, the grand palace stood like an unyielding sentinel against the unknown. Queen Seraphis sat upon her throne, her gaze lost in the void beyond her chamber's great glass windows. The omens had spoken. The stars flickered like dying embers, and the priests had fallen into fits of trance, muttering incoherent words of doom. The high council had been summoned, their faces grim as they gathered before her.
"Our scouts report unnatural occurrences along the borders," Lord Ithrael, the queen's trusted general, spoke first. "Men vanish without a trace, and those who return speak of shadows moving with intent."
Seraphis exhaled slowly, her fingers tracing the armrest of her throne. "We are no strangers to war, but this... this is beyond what we have faced before."
A murmur of agreement passed through the room. The political games and territorial conflicts that once dictated their every move now seemed trivial in the face of an unseen force.
"The other nations have reported similar disturbances," Lord Ithrael continued. "The northern borders of Druunval have seen disappearances. The Oracle of Zaromir has sent warnings. Even the seers of Eldrithar have fallen silent."
The queen's lips tightened. "Then we are not alone in this." She turned to the assembly. "We must convene the rulers of the seven nations. If this is not stopped, there will be no land left to fight over."
Part 2: The Gathering of the Kings
The grand hall of the Thaldris Empire had not seen such a gathering in centuries. The rulers of the seven nations, once divided by greed and ambition, now stood as one—brought together by the looming darkness that threatened their world.
King Vorghan of Thaldris, a man of towering presence and iron will, was the first to speak. "We have all seen the signs. This is no mere rebellion, no mere scheming of rival nations. Something older than our history stirs beneath us."
Queen Seraphis nodded. "Even our strongest warriors grow uneasy. The very air we breathe feels tainted."
High King Malek of Druunval, ever the skeptic, leaned forward. "We have spent centuries at each other's throats. Now, we are to trust that this... unseen force is real?"
The Oracle of Zaromir, veiled in shadows, stepped forward. Her voice was but a whisper, yet it silenced the room. "The stars weep for us. The void has begun to open. If you do not stand together now, your nations will crumble before the dawn."
A heavy silence followed her words. Then, King Vorghan nodded. "Then we must act. We must prepare."
Part 3: The First Strike
Despite the alliance forged in desperation, tensions remained high. Each ruler returned to their land with promises of vigilance, but beneath the surface, ambitions still festered. The uneasy peace would not last.
In the dead of night, a lone figure rode through the war-torn hills of Kynthorath. A messenger, bearing an urgent missive, his heart pounding as he neared his destination. The winds howled around him, carrying whispers that clawed at his sanity.
As he reached the outpost, he barely had time to utter his message before the darkness swallowed him whole.
The first kingdom fell without a sound.
By dawn, the ruins of an entire city lay in eerie silence. There were no bodies, no signs of battle—only abandoned homes and shattered remnants of life. The kingdom of Eldrithar had vanished.
Part 4: The Breaking Point
The news spread like wildfire. Panic gripped the nations, and old wounds reopened. Accusations flew like arrows, each ruler suspecting treachery. The fragile unity shattered.
In Valkarath, Queen Seraphis stood before her war council. "If we do not act now, the entire continent will be lost."
Lord Ithrael, ever loyal, met her gaze. "Then we go to war."
The decree was sent. Armies mobilized. The nations prepared for what they thought was an inevitable war against each other.
But they had yet to realize—they were no longer the true masters of their fate.
For something far greater had begun its ascent.
The war of power and resources had begun, and yet, unseen forces laughed in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
The end had only just begun.