The synchronized marching of Sarconian soldiers could be heard throughout the bustling city streets. Men and women of all races strolled idly in and out of the many colorful stores that bordered the main strip of the city. They paid the armored soldiers no mind as they marched past, pausing briefly to inspect alleyways before marching deeper into the city. The squad came to a halt as a fur covered woman dashed out from a deli, almost knocking over one of the soldiers as she fled from a heavyset man in a white smock.

“Stop her!” He rasped angrily; his fat cheeks flushed from exhaustion.

The soldiers were a step ahead of him, fanning out in front of his store, magic rifles aimed at the cowering lady as she clutched a brown bag tightly against her chest. Her furred ears were flat against her head as the soldiers began to bark orders at her. Those bright yellow eyes darted left and right, then she charged as if to push her way through the soldiers, only to be met with the brutal force of three of the men. One struck her with the stock, sending her to the ground in a bloodied mess as another stepped on her back while a third quickly cuffed both of her hands behind her back. The woman howled in agony as they hoisted her to her feet.

“Please!” She cried. “My children, they have to eat, please!”

One of the soldiers returned the stolen goods to the deli man who quickly offered his thanks before shying back inside his store. The woman continued to scream, flailing her legs as the soldiers held her in place. The one holding her from behind placed a gloved hand over her forehead, murmuring a spell and sending her into a deep, silent sleep. Submission magic. A block away, a high window closed briskly, the man inside turning away, hiding his disgust behind an expressionless clean-shaven face.

He turned to face the woman he’d come to see, who was flicking between documents and stacks of money, sorting them as she did so.

“Valians get no respect here; especially the women.” She remarked in a disinterested tone, as if she’d been standing by the window, too. The man moved to sit down, pausing as she finally looked up at him. “Do you know what they’ll do to her once she’s jailed?”

“Of course,” he grunted. “I know just how demented Sarconia is. I’d expect nothing less of the dogs who rule over it and enforce its laws.” The woman flashed him a smile, showing off a set of pearly whites with four golden canines.

“Should I take offense to that? No one is more twisted than you, Dommy.”

He shot her a cold glare, his bald head glistening under the incedis flames that flickered above him. “That’s Mr. Tourneau, to you.”

The woman went back to organizing her desk, stapling documents and wrapping the money into stacks of a thousand. Fifteen stacks, the man counted to himself.

“Play money for a man like you.” The woman announced, sweeping everything into a deep drawer and rising to her feet. “Well, wanna talk over drinks?”

Dom nodded, holding out her sleek black blazer he’d grabbed from its hanger. She slipped into it, brushing her fingers against the rough palms of his hands as she stepped away. “So, you do still have manners? Color me shocked!” She teased and stepped through the door Dom held open.

“You may be a beast, but you’re still a woman.” He said as she looped her arm through his, noting the way his white dress shirt hugged the bulging muscles of his arms and torso. “And….” He trailed off.

She shot him a mischievous smile. “And this is the only way I’ll give you what you want! Buuuut,” she feigned as if thinking of the right words. “You could always take it from me, you know.”

His throat bobbed. “That type of thing isn’t my speed. How far is this bar?” He asked as they stepped into the cool night air. His companion ignored him, guiding him away from their building, and into the city through a bustling crowd and bright stores with neon signs and high billboards.

She shushed him, pulling him gently through the city, turning corners onto busy blocks and taking shortcuts through twisted alleyways. Dominic Tourneau was silent as the two of them walked, scanning the crowds for anyone suspicious. He relaxed a little after he was sure they weren’t being followed. His companion, Avelina Starreaper, noted his cautiousness. “No one will bother us, especially since I’m here.” The pair turned down a dark alleyway that didn’t match the vibe of the city at all. It was musty and humid. Dom could smell the blood before he saw it. Avelina pulled him past the rotting corpses, a group of rats squeaking at them as they stepped past. Further in the alley were more corpses, fresh ones. They continued to step over them until they ended up at a solid brick wall. Dom could see it glowing, and as he focused his eyes, he saw right through to the other side, to where another squad of soldiers stood on watch.

“Come.” Avelina urged. She stepped toward the solid wall first, phasing through it like it was made of jelly. Dom followed, and as they stepped out to the other side, a chilly wind buffeted them. Standing between them and a black metal door were about a dozen more armed Sarconian guards that must have been out of sight, rifles all aimed at Dom. He peered down at Avelina whose red eyes narrowed at the guards in front of her, but they didn’t lower their weapons. “The verse.” She hinted softly to Dom, who blinked before straightening up.

“The mother’s eye, a nightlike void, watches from beyond. We must follow her path and execute her wishes. Guided by her words and bathed in her void. We are the Order, the Paragons of Nelaste.”

All at once, weapons lowered, and the soldiers stepped aside as the towering man before them and Avelina moved forward, pushing through the black metal door, the sounds of their steps on the iron plating echoing as they descended into a dark basement. Avelina’s arm remained looped through Dom’s as they worked their way down the stairs in silence.

The dark stairwell opened into a short hall spotted with hidden red lights, and voices could be heard from within. Dom’s eyes narrowed as they ambled onward, passing through a magic threshold that was surely scanning their identities to make sure they were…acceptable. Their footsteps echoed off the porcelain tiled floor, and as they neared the end of the hallway, the voices quieted.

Dominic Tourneau entered first, eyeing the various men in black hoods, eyeing the matching pendants on silver necklaces. A few acknowledged him, while others remained chatting in hushed tones.

An older man with grayed hair and a pockmarked brown face moved from a silent corner of the room, stopping between the couple and the men seated around a large round table. The incedis lights dimmed and brightened as the two men stood silently for a moment. The room quieted, everyone basking in the two powerful auras fighting silently. Avelina moved beside Dominic, but she didn’t speak.

The older man extended a wrinkled hand from beneath his black robes. “It isn’t often the shadowed warlord graces us with his presence. How are you, Dom?”

Dominic looked past the frail man before him at the others who, in their uniformed robes, began to whisper and motion amongst themselves. “I’m afraid that title belongs to this one,” Dominic bobbed his head at Avelina, who didn’t so much as smile at the compliment. Her pale face was plain as stone; her brown eyes scanned the group of men before her. She’d grown used to being the only woman in situations like that, and her magical aura was in a way similar to Andromeda’s: demanding. The men eyed her warily, shifting their gazes between her and Dominic, the two powerhouses that headed operations of the Order.

Dominic shook the man's hand, moving to sit at the head of the table, a comfy wooden seat that was often left empty as he barely attended those meetings. Avelina, instead of taking the vacant seat next to him, moved behind him, folding her arms and staring blankly around at the same old faces she knew all too well. Idle conversations stopped as the energy in the room shifted. The floor and walls began to twist and turn and change colors as if they were alive, and the incedis lights flickered out, sending the room into total swirling darkness. Avelina smiled to herself as Dominic’s magic transformed the room before them, the gothic underground basement purging them from itself and becoming something brand new.

The room transformed into a top floor office on a high rise. Dominic Tourneau was a businessman, so this new look felt more natural to him than that stuffy basement lit with magical flames. Avelina snapped her fingers as the new space became visible again, and shadowy ghouls wisped down from the ceiling, swooping across the long black table and leaving glasses of champagne in front of each person seated at the table. Two were left in front of Dominic.

“Sit.” Avelina commanded as one of the men moved to gaze out the ceiling high windows at the faux city far below them. The man immediately seated himself, his body stiff as a board. The other men exchanged nervous glances as Avelina placed a small orb into Dominic’s hand. It was warm to the touch, emitting a low lavender glow. The men gazed upon it wondrously with wide eyes and calculating faces. “We can thank the king, or queen, Antham, for this treasure.” Avelina exclaimed, her face still a blank canvas. Dominic nodded his head.

“Though we’ve only unlocked a fraction of its true power, it's a great start. This is what we need to bind the witch Soren to our will. The remaining crowns are still being sought after.” Dominic shifted in his seat, handing the small orb back to Avelina who accepted it graciously.

The man who had been forced into his seat earlier looked around suddenly, asking what had just happened. No one said anything to him; all eyes were on the pair at the front of the room. Dominic spread his hands, “Questions, anyone?”

The old man from earlier stood, bowing his head before eyeing Dom with a cocked brow. “When exactly do we plan on capturing Soren? She’s been awake for a few days now.”

“There are a few places she could be at this moment. But she hasn’t left the continent.” Avelina proclaimed.

Dominic stood, murmuring a spell and cascading the table in wondrous white and blue magic, forming a sparkling map of the entirety of Nelaste. “If you were a witch who’d been locked away for thousands of years, you'd need a few things: enough power to escape your prison, and a way to refill your magical energy after your escape. And Soren was as evil as they come, so it's very likely she’s using living beings to complete her missing magic.”

A few of the men scratched at their beards or nodded their heads in agreement. Avelina poked at the fluttering map, marking three spots. “Here,” Dominic explained, “Is Swinescar College. It houses both promising magic users and future military enlistees of the highest caliber. I have no doubt Soren will attack that academy.”

Dominic stood, moving between three men adjacent to him. “Here—is Sarconia. We have two of the four masks of the ancient kings. She will need these if she wishes to truly rule over this world as she once foretold,” the group began to murmur amongst themselves anxiously, quieting quickly as Avelina raised the orb of Antham into the air. “Sarconia is in no danger. If she comes here directly, she will submit. You have my word.”

The tall man rounded to the opposite side of the table, but further down the line. “And here,” he motioned to the third spot Avelina had marked, “Is Fafe Nalore: home to the Anesens, the last settlement of beings related to high elves. This area is so potent with magic, it’s almost certain that they will come under attack.”

“But that witch is of elven descent, too! You’re saying she would attack her own people?”

Avelina laughed loudly, a beautiful, musical laugh that was a stark contrast to the twisted smile forming on her lips. “That witch wants to take over the world, old man. Many of those elves only know of her through stories, the same way you all do. But those of us who have distant relatives that fought in the Great War know all too well what kind of monster Soren was…is. There isn’t a word in existence to describe the type of evil she plans to unleash. So be quiet and listen!”

Dominic began to thoroughly go through his plans to capture Soren and use her powers. The room was silent as his magic constantly shifted through graphs and summaries and maps. His master plan was only missing one vital piece of information: Soren’s current whereabouts. He insisted it wasn’t necessary, and that his hounds would alert him the moment Soren’s power appeared anywhere in Nelaste, including Swinescar. And when he was done with telling his plans, he disappeared in a veil of red-orange magic, and the room returned to the way it was. Avelina Starreaper awaited any questions, but there were none. Every member of the Paragon had instilled their complete trust in Dominic Tourneau the moment he’d become their leader. There was no doubt his plan would proceed without fail. But perhaps he’d been underestimating the witch Soren, even if just a little.