Scene 1 – The Northern Wind
The wind bit like an icy whip.
The scout descended Glairepierre Pass, his boots slipping between black rock and slushy snow. His patched cloak billowed as he ran, barely hiding the concealment runes sewn into its lining.
His name was Ravhen. He was neither noble nor soldier—only a witness. A survivor.
And what he had seen at Dornhal—Kaelen crowned in black, the stones humming with ancient magic—had to be reported to the Chamber of Azareth in the North, where the old empires still watched, hiding behind obsidian walls and forbidden rites.
He paused on the edge of a ravine, chest heaving. A shadow passed overhead—not a bird, but a spectral hunter freed from ages past.
— They have truly awakened it… he whispered, then sprinted on.
The Forsaken Realms were no longer silent.
Scene 2 – The Black Throne
At Dornhal, Kaelen stood at the center of a vast collapsed hall.
Laborers, mages, and makeshift craftsmen swarmed around him. Ancient stones were being shifted. Enchanted blue torches illuminated plans etched into the floor.
Kaelen traced a map—not of conquest, but of restoration. Of reunification.
— Water must flow here again, he said, pointing to an old aqueduct. Then the forges, then supplies. War will come. But first… we must build.
Beside him, Maelis, former strategist of the kingdom of Neryath, nodded.
— Do you truly believe you can rebuild a throne from ruins and ghosts?
Kaelen met her gaze. For a moment, his eyes softened.
— No. But I can build something else. Something they won't understand… until it is too late.
Scene 3 – The Northern Eye
Ravhen finally reached the Brûlenerf relay station. A circle of eternal flames guarded a black stone door. He slid an obsidian plate into a slot, and the seal groaned open.
He descended a pitch-black spiral staircase.
At last, he entered a chamber whose walls were covered in onyx mirrors.
They were already waiting: three hooded figures, faces hidden in shadow.
— Speak, one of them commanded.
Ravhen knelt.
— The Monarch has returned. And he is not alone. He is awakening something…
Silence followed. Then a low, almost satisfied voice replied:
— Then… it is time to break the chains of the South.
Scene 4 – First Oaths
Kaelen stood before an assembly of a hundred souls. Not an army—just a people.
— Today, we have neither walls nor grain nor armored soldiers.
But we have a name.
He stretched out his hand toward the crown resting on a stone altar.
— We are the Sons of Oblivion.
And every stone we raise, every enemy we defeat… will be our answer to those who thought us dead.
The survivors pressed their hands to their hearts. The pact was sealed.
Yet in the shadows, one figure watched.
Not a spy.
Not a traitor.
A man in a sand-colored cloak, his eyes glowing like the setting sun.
He smiled.
To be continued…