Night hung low, and dark clouds loomed overhead, as though even the air carried a stifling weight.
Deep within the Mages' Forest, an ancient tower stood silently at the forest's edge.
A few pale strands of moonlight barely pierced the thick clouds, coating the tower in a cold silver sheen.
On the circular gallery atop the tower, Supreme Mage Aurelian stood with his hands clasped behind his back.
Before him, a bronze Message Raven rested motionless on an ornate stone pedestal, its eyes dull and dark. They had not flickered in a long time.
It was the messaging tool of his senior fellow apprentice, Archmage Jurgen Loken. Until a few months ago, it had regularly brought news of him.
Even a few brief words had been enough to confirm that his old friend was safe.
But now several months had passed without a word.
"It's been too long. Surely nothing has happened to him," Aurelian murmured, an unmistakable heaviness in his voice.
He raised his right hand and slowly traced a simple circular magic array in the air with his fingertip. A faint blue-white glow appeared.
"Come," he called softly.
Moments later, twelve gray-robed figures arrived and knelt before him on one knee, their silver masks reflecting the cold magical light.
"Supreme Mage."
Their voices were low and solemn, as though they had become one with the night.
Aurelian lifted his hand, and a rough parchment map appeared in the air, outlining the Ironblood Empire's Northern Frontier.
"Master Jurgen Loken has sent no word for several months. The twelve of you will depart immediately for the Northern Frontier and find the place where he was last seen."
His voice was soft and measured, yet carried an almost sacred pressure.
"Yes!"
"Bring back everything... whether he lives or dies, you must