E V E N T ☆ 1

The sounds of festival celebrations turn to screams across Port Heritage as finally, the revelers notice the demons flooding the sky.

The last few fireworks explode, framing the demons' awful, leathery wings in silhouettes of gold and pink. Then it fades to terrifying blackness as the creatures wing away across the Godsea in a great horde, disappearing at the horizon, with only a few stragglers swooping down toward the tantalizing city.

At Skygardens, HYLAINE'S blood is running down the altar in rivulets now, meeting that of MARLOW, KEE, ELSIE, many other wounded and frightened civilians. In the cruel whipping wind, the altar finally dries. Some of the demons are either too wounded to fly, now defending themselves, outnumbered, in the courtyard -- but most have disappeared into the sky.

The red barrier flickers.

At first, it's just a blink-and-miss moment. But then, a shudder runs through the whole circle of glowing light, and it begins to short-circuit. Red sparks fly into the air. The ground feels soft, wobbly. And then, with a noise almost like a sigh -- the barrier dissolves.

The demons are dead or escaped.

Commander HARTLEY is long-gone, and down in Heritage Cove, you can see his fleet slipping past the Jade Gates just before they close.

As you clutch your wounds, breathing hard, wide-eyed, the silence feels infinite. HYLAINE rips her saber out of a demon's course and casts a cold glance at her surroundings. You can see the wheels turning at breakneck speed behind her eyes.

The Naval officers look to her for guidance.

And then, with a flick of her hand --

They raise their guns toward you.

Everyone in the courtyard -- including those who were standing just outside the barrier, seeking a way in -- are shepherded into a huddled bunch before the steps of High Hall.

ADMIRAL HYLAINE disappeared into the marbled building of High Hall. You have no chance to follow; if you speak, she ignores you.

The sky is beginning to lighten back to a normal twilight-blue. From behind the circle of armed guards pointing weapons at you emerges two towering figures -- seven feet tall, eyes glinting, heavy tails dragging on the bloody ground.

LUDOVICA and AZZURRA, the Blood Twins, Headmistresses of the Naval Academy -- and ADMIRAL HYLAINE's most trusted generals.

Their eyes meet, deep in silent communication you can't understand.

Then LUDOVICA (or is it AZZURRA?) pulls her top lip back, showing her jagged teeth, and points her sword up toward the towering marble building of High Hall.

The guards begin pressing your forward.

There's nothing to do but follow.

So here you are.

You find yourself in a small-ish side room in Port Heritage's seat of power, where courts meet and laws are made. Many of you may have never stepped foot in High Hall in your life, especially if never charged with a crime. The ceilings vault high above you with marble buttresses; the floors beneath are veined with obsidian.

It has been an hour. The guards brought water and medical treatment, but nothing more. HYLAINE, LUDOVICA, and AZZURRA are nowhere to be seen -- instead, you are presided over by AKOLLO VOLKOV, HYLAINE's esteemed head inventor. He sits in a red velvet chair, flanked by guards, his face deathly serious as he straightens his jacket and continually glances toward the only door.

You don't know what's going on outside.

You don't know if your family or loved ones are alive.

You don't know what the fuck you just saw.

And most of all -- you don't know why you're here. Why these titans of the Godsea have taken an interest in you. Simple, normal you.

It seems only time will tell.

The steward refills your wine as ADMIRAL HYLAINE slowly rises from her chair.

"The Navy's wizards," she says, "always felt there were threads of magic so far unknown to humanity... or perhaps forgotten. Spurred by the Red Dynasty's aggressions, our Naval wizards have long been researching how we could access this power. The Dynasty eclipses us in size several times over. If Port Heritage were not so costly to lay siege to, and so well-protected by Heritage Cove and the Jade Gates, I have no doubt they would have seized us already. Building our Navy is only so effective when there are not enough sailors to fill the ships. We needed magic --" She looks around at you. "And to some extent, we have succeeded."

"We've seen small, incremental successes at accessing this seventh type of magic," she continues. "But nothing powerful enough to possibly stand up to the Dynasty. If the Seventh God has sigils, we haven't been able to use them. Since the Godsgoing, the pantheon hasn't interacted directly with mortals, but this is different. It's as if there is an invisible barrier."

"I've been trying my hardest," AKOLLO says moodily.

HYLAINE ignores him. "As you may have noticed," she says quietly, "that barrier is now... thin."

She strides to the wall, where heavy velvet curtains are draped. Seizing a thick golden cord, she pulls it, drawing them back from the windows.

There is a small red glow far, far on the horizon, like a patch of faraway sea is burning.

"In the last hour, I sent our fastest crows," she says grimly. "I fear we have found where the Seventh is sealed."

From a sheath at her belt, HYLAINE withdraws a heavy iron key, nearly the length of her forearm. She lays it on the table.

"I was fortunate enough in my travels," she says quietly, "to stumble across an ancient Storm temple, on an island far to the south. I made my way through its dangers, past the skeletons of those who came before, and came across this. I call it the Storm Key. Its energies allowed us to discover the Seventh in the first place."

Indeed, a strange feeling resonates from the Key. Every Storm devout in the room feels the hair (or fur) rise all over their body, as if lifted by electricity.

"These," HYLAINE says slowly, "are what put the Seventh away in the first place. And if we wish to tighten the restraints once more, we will need all six. Or else--"

"Our souls are fucked," AKOLLO interrupts mournfully.

HYLAINE casts him a withering look, and he quickly looks down at his hands. But then she sighs, and rests a hand on his shoulder, fingernails giving him a light scratch. The red circle glows on the back of her palm.

"We have reason to believe," she says, "that our souls are now... involved. Whether we like it or not."

Her eyes land on each of you briefly.

"A quest for the fate of the Godsea, and our very souls," she drawls. "More wine?"