For countless millennia, the stranger had carried out the bidding of his master.
He was the will of his master. Nothing more, and nothing less. He existed to fulfill a purpose, and he had never once wavered from that purpose.
Around Greyreach, the cornerstone of his master's grand design, seven lineages had emerged from a single source.
They had spread across the land, their descendants multiplying with each passing generation.
Names were forgotten, and empires rose and fell into the annals of history.
But he had remained. Patiently watching. Patiently waiting.
He had never rushed. There was no need to. Time meant nothing to him. A hundred years, a thousand years, even ten thousand years were but fleeting moments.
He had understood that the slightest mistake could jeopardize everything. So he worked from the shadows, carefully manipulating events and guiding people without ever revealing his hand.
