Aethel-Sol, the cold and blinding power of pure Light, and Syren-Gha, the untamed force of nature and the elements, once fought a war that scarred the world itself. Where their powers annihilated one another they left behind a vast petrified plain, saturated with raw cosmic energy. On that impossible ground humanity built Thaloria: a monumental ring-city, and the last great bastion of a broken world.

But the old war left something behind. Deep beneath the Khor-Vhal caldera an ancient darkness is stirring again. Nir-Khor is bleeding back into the world, the seals that once held it are breaking one by one, and the first cracks have appeared in the walls of Thaloria itself.

Three bloodlines stand at the centre of it. Paladins carry the Light in their blood. Wizards channel the wild elemental forces of Syren-Gha. And the Fallen — human, whatever else is said about them — descend from those who made a forbidden sacrifice to save the city from destruction.

Thaloria knows its own history. It simply does not know all of it.

Thaloria stands at the centre of a land still marked by the war of the gods. To the west rise the frozen Mor-Khar mountains. To the north-east opens the Khor-Vhal caldera, a living wound of fire and ash from which Nir-Khor seeps into the world. To the south and south-east lie the Vael-Ghar range and the frost-bound Hoarfrost Wilds.

The city is more than a refuge. It is a web of old alliances, fear, power and debts nobody wants to name out loud. Paladins hold the borders. Wizards work to keep the forces of the world in balance. The Fallen are feared, used and watched — while the crown owes its survival to the very bloodline it refuses to acknowledge.

And while the world outside keeps breaking, another war is growing inside the walls: over truth, freedom, loyalty, and how much injustice a society is willing to excuse in the name of survival.