~To become Immortal and wield Blue Magic, you must first consider: What is Destiny?~

          The twilight leading into the morning slowly grew lighter. The stars in the night sky were swallowed up by the suns’ light as it peered more and more over the horizon. The sea sparkled in kind with its own hued light. A corridor of magic opened on a path along the upper walls of Whitegate, the tension of the weaving a blink of an otherwise easy sunrise. In this space, in the dead of morning, the city slept. No one saw the ornately garbed Immortal set foot onto the stones, heard the gold soled bottoms of his charuq as they landed upon his adopted home. The only souls to bear witness were those housed by Seraph himself, power gathered across his travels.
          Unable to help himself, he lost himself to the memories of arrival in this foreign city and how the warm stones first greeted him. Of the enigmatic soothsayer who, instead of revealing the tapestry of fate, caused the Elvaan to seize it. Of the hands that had borne him up, of those whose grasp he evaded, and those who gave a push but were missing…
          What seemed like it was just a few moments in time had spanned hours. A boat had drawn into port, and fresh faced adventurers could be seen stepping into Aht Urhgan for their first time. One of them, taking the whole of the city in noticed watchful eyes from above. Gaining the attention of their compatriots, the collective gaze of the group went upward. Even Seraph’s hearing did not extend from this far. But…


          All the workers at the dock turned their eyes upward.

          “Guardian of the Empress…”

          Seraph had been away too long as to be mindful of what his attire represented. For him, it was a means to an end. To focus a torrent-swelled river to an intended course. For the people of Aht Urhgan…

          …was he guardian?


          …Beast to be put down?

          He proceeded along the upper pathways of the city. The attentiveness followed him. A mix of awe and terror seeped out of the mouths of children. As Seraph descended a set of stairs, parents shooed away their charges as subtly as they could. Approaching one of the guards of the city, they straightened up considerably. So ornate the unique cloth, purple and white, spilling out from leather armor while brandishing spears. All things in Whitegate that were simple in the Middle Lands of home were lush and ornate in the Near East. Seraph requested Sanction, special dispensation granted to mercenaries from the Middle Lands, which stirred confusion within the guard. ‘What high and mighty Immortal need suffer the permissions of commoners when favored by the Empress?‘ they must have wondered. Seraph proceeded toward The Imperial Whitegate, a structure that shared its name with the city, which was ornate and wrought with gold as the least expensive of the metals in it. The monolithic wall housed the seat of power of the Empire of Aht Urhgan. When last he came here it was to to accept his next mission as one of the Empresses’ favored soldiers.

          Now it was time to continue to walk along the path he had chosen.

          Under the eyes of more soldiers, ever vigilant, Seraph laid his hands on the archway which would take him to the palace. It was cold and unyielding.

          The time was here.

          The Justice one seeks will be branded as Vengeance by another. Seraph would not sleep until these scales were balanced. Under his hands, the gate began to open. The guards were called to attention. Seraph’s being, one soul fueled by one hundred and twelve more, focused their collective into one word. One name. One sound which would open the floodgates within him and spill wrath, wreck, and ruin upon the world.


          So much led to this point. His recent life, in an instant, came to the forefront of Seraph’s mind. What was the word Waoud had chosen so short yet so long ago…?

~ What is destiny?”~
~“It is what one must decide for oneself.”~