Before Veridia, before the Heptagon Accord, and long before the rise of the noble Empire of Indoris, there existed a Kingdom that was far richer than anyone could imagine. Its sphere of influence spanned the entire northern half of the continent. History has largely forgotten its name, leaving only myth to preserve its existence. It was a cosmopolitan state- a concept that seems more like a fever dream than reality in today's fractured world. Elves, Dwarves, and Humans lived there as equals. Its capital once stood where the seven cities now sit, protected by two massive and powerful fortresses that guarded against enemies from all sides- the Iron Fort and the Golden Fort.
Both strongholds were perched atop high barren hills, where sharp cliffs met the green waves of Azure Bay on the west, while vast empty plains stretched out across the other three. Their geography alone made them impenetrable and unconquerable. Things were going well, other than occasional clashes with Orcish clans and Beastmen tribes from the South. However, the peace and prosperity did not last long.
According to legend, strange serpents suddenly appeared on the continent. Some say they crawled out from the deep underground; others claim they emerged from the sea beyond Azure Bay. At the time, the Kingdom was locked in a brutal war with an alliance of Beastmen and Orcs to the south. However, when the serpents began attacking everyone indiscriminately, the warring enemies were forced to set aside their animosity for the time being and fight united against the alien invaders.
For decades, a fierce battle raged across the continent. In the end, the united might of the continent's different races overthrew the invaders. Whether the serpents were wiped out or merely driven back into the darkness, no one can say for sure. But the victory was bought at a dire price. Something had happened during, or perhaps just after, the war that filled every race with suspicion. It was as if the serpents' venom had poisoned the hearts of all living things.
The great Kingdom that once spanned the entire northern continent collapsed into a vicious civil war. The same fate befell the alliance in the south between the Orcs and Beastmen. Since that dark era, the races have remained hostile toward one another;- some openly, some in secret.
Today, the Kingdom of Valoria sits where the Golden Fort once stood. Over generations, the Valorian rulers reinforced and expanded the fortifications, making the city seemingly invincible. However, one weakness remained that could never be fully overcome: Valoria was dependent on other city-states for the resources it needs to survive. While the Iron Fort, now known as Aethelgard, depended mostly on Port Azure, Valoria has always relied on Veridia.
The Stormhold family maintained a deep, personal friendship with the Thrones of Veridia for years. But now, the situation has shifted. The Stormholds, once the proud rulers of Valoria, find themselves imprisoned in the very dungeons they once renovated.
Serena Stormhold was walking from wall to wall within the cramped area of the cell. The whole setting reeked of bitter irony; after all, she was the one who had personally overseen the design of these quarters to house high-value prisoners. At that time, it had never crossed her mind that she would one day be the one staring at these dark stone walls from the inside.
Suddenly, a distant metallic sound of footsteps reached her ears. It was growing louder gradually. The particular noise of the footstep however was not normal, but rather uneven and abrupt;- as if one footfall was creating louder noise than the other. Serena did not need to see the visitor to know his identity- it was none other than senior Justicar Lord Mordan Terance. He had lost a leg during a past mission and now walked upon a heavy metallic prosthetic. He had another identity now however; he was one of the chief architects of the coup against her. The rhythmic clanking of metallic footstep finally stopped directly in front of her door.
Mordan slid back the Judas on the heavy door and peered into the dimly lit interior of the cell. Serana was standing directly in his line of sight, arms crossed; her face was a mix of disappointment and ridicule.
"At last," she spoke with a commanding voice that was steady despite the damp stone walls, "Mordan the Limp finally finds the courage to show his face. Commendable, indeed. I imagine it took every ounce of spine you have left to walk down these stairs."
Mordan scoffed, his face twisting behind the narrow opening, "Oh, the audacity! The sheer, blind arrogance. It was your pride that led you to this folly, yet you cling to it like a drowning man to a lead weight. Pitiful."
"Pride is the natural companion of royal authority," Serana countered, her eyes never wavering, "It is a concept a man of your stature- a man born to follow and destined to fail, could never hope to grasp."
"You are no longer 'Lady Justice,' Serana," Mordan hissed, "You are no longer the Head of the Justicars. The sooner you accept the cold reality of this cell, the better it will be for your health."
Serana took a slow step toward the door, "A lion remains the King of the jungle even in sleep. A fox does not become the King simply because the lion fell into a trap."
Mordan let out a short laugh, sipped in a tone of mockery, "Let me correct your metaphor, my Lady. You are a woman- you cannot be a King, nor a Lion."
"A Lion's gender matters little when it is busy smashing a fox back into the dirt where it belongs," she replied coldly.
Mordan's eyes glinted with a sudden, dark humor, "Perhaps. But a Lion's age matters quite a bit, does it not?"
Serana's eyes flashed like burning coal. Her subconscious understood the hint instantly, even as her conscious mind refused to believe it. "What do you mean?" she roared, the sound echoing off the low ceiling.
"Oh, did you not catch it, my Lady?" Mordan's triumphant grin was visible through the Judas now, "I have known you long enough to know you are a pillar of stone. You cannot be bent. You would withstand any punishment we devise. But what about your daughter? What about young Selena?"
Serana lunged, her fist slamming into the wood with a force that made the door groan on its hinges, "Leave her alone! She is a child! She has nothing to do with your petty coup!"
"SHE IS A WITCH!" Mordan shouted over her, his voice booming to silence her. He leaned into the Judas, eyes drunk with fanaticism, "She is a witch, Serana! And a witch deserves no mercy, no sympathy, and no future."
"Mordan, you…" Serana's teeth grated together, "Don't you dare lay a finger on my daughter. If you harm her, there is no corner of this continent where you can hide from me."
"Oh no, don't worry about that!" Mordan spoke in a tone that was full of assurance, dripping with mockery, "As soon as your daughter accepts her wicked true nature, we will torment her no more. However, if she chooses to be as adamant as her mother, we may find ourselves helpless,- forced to call in the Witch-hunters."
Mordan leaned closer to the Judas, his eyes wide with a sick, fanatic light, "You know how thorough they are, Serana. Obsessed. They are experts at rooting out the rot of witchcraft. They say they can make even the stones confess to a crime. Imagine what they could do to your dear girl." He erupted into a sharp, sadistic laugh that echoed mockingly off the stone walls.
Serana opened her mouth to roar in defiance, but Mordan silenced her by pressing his index finger to his lips. "Shhh…" he whispered, his grin widening, "They have begun. Pay attention, my Lady. If you are quiet enough, you can hear her."
Serana focused on stilling her panicked breathing, forcing her agitated heart to quiet its desperate pounding. In the sudden, heavy, suffocating silence of the hallway, a faint, painful scream drifted from the far end of the corridor. It was thin and desperate.
Serana's blood ran cold as she recognized the voice. It was Selena.