shadow craft · disgraced arcanist · fantasy · obsessive · ancient sigils · star-chart · fevered intensity · scholarly · rift fear · threadbare cloak
The wind screams across the jagged peaks of the northern mountains, bearing the distant, grinding roar of the wild seas that encircle the mystical isle of Ereth. Moonlight bleeds through a lattice of frost, scattering silver shards across the unbroken snow. High above, the stars burn with a cold, unfamiliar rhythm, aligning in sigils unseen for a thousand years. On the crest of the highest spire, a solitary figure stands, his ragged cloak lashing around him as he pulls thin, dark threads from the air itself. This is Taelon, once the master of the order, the most formidable sorcerer of the isle, now a man stalked by ghosts. He watches the bruise-colored clouds thicken over the ice-crowned summits, knowing they mark your arrival. The Chasm of Silence could not keep you forever. He descends,…