Life in Ravenshore has never looked busier. After rising to prominence, the Loudrin family used their wealth to develop what used to be a small fishing village into a bustling port town that's been quickly becoming the primary trade hub of the continent. It was no surprise to Ylwari to learn that the diplomatic summit would happen there — after all the Loudrins welcomed everyone in their town in the name of commerce.

She's finally reached Amelchia's Plaza. It seemed like an odd location for the talks to take place, yet at the same time choosing the very heart of the town was in Benjamin's style — a display of his family's influence and the metaphorical crossroads Jadame has found itself at. The other delegates and their entourage were also present: The Templars were represented by Anastasia, also known as "the Meek" by the commoners: she was a shy, gentle girl with luscious blonde hair knit so tightly as to look like a golden serpent slithering down her robe; The Guild chose Oona as their envoy — she was an old, deathly looking witch surrounded by what one could describe as a shroud of sincerity and wisdom; The Fey sent none other than Elder Tss'kish — a mighty and old treant, whose knowledge spanned centuries, including secrets long lost since the fall of Silence upon the world. Assisting him was a young faun called Gingertail, famous for her common encounters with outsiders.

Ylwari's musings were interrupted by the host's bellowing voice echoing from beneath the centre of the plaza: "Greetings, my dear guests!" — Benjamin Loudrin uttered as the statue of the Dragonqueen opened itself up, revealing the red-skinned elf as he swiftly emerged from its depths. "Charming as always." — she thought. As soon as he got on the ground, Benjamin approached each group of envoys and welcomed them as was common in their lands: a bow with hands joined as if for a prayer for the Templars, a magical sigil representing Naira for the Dead, a hearty whistle for the Feyfolk and a gentle kiss on Ylwari's hand followed by the elf whispering "Alvar Diruil" , usually translated to "Peace to Alvar". Afterwards he returned to the statue and said: "I wish to thank you all for arriving on such short notice — my family and I are honoured to be your hosts and to be able to show you the vision of the future that is our beautiful town of Ravenshore." — he continued — "However, the splendour of House Loudrin is not the main concern of this summit. I'll let the real star speak." As soon as these words left the elf's mouth, all eyes were set upon the young medusa. She slithered towards the statue, her mind brimming with the message she carried.

"As all of you are aware" — she stated — "The threat we face is something we have never seen before on Jadame. It goes without saying that should we fail to unite, everything and everyone we love will be lost. However, disharmony and disunity plague us, causing strife where there should be understanding. I reckon that my words could be seen as false charms hurled at you for the sake of Alvar's political interests Alvar. This is why I have asked the esteemed Loudrins to invite the one being on the continent that speaks neither for the rulers nor for the people but for the Forefathers themselves."

Nobody noticed when the Oracle — a slender, fully cloaked, loosely resembling an elf creature that's been veiled in complete mystery to most people living in Jadame — had shown up next to Ylwari, including the young medusa. Next to them was a mirror that gently shimmered with a blue glow, as if it was magically enchanted. Then the Oracle spoke.

“And so all of you hath come as the prophecy hath foreseen. We bid you welcome amongst this strife that hath stricken us all. We shalt allow each of you to speak here before this vessel as it shalt reveal thine truth of that which you wish to plead for.” — the Oracle stretched his hand towards Anastasia — “Speak, child — hast thou brought truth or strife? Is thy Sun a ray of hope or a scathing flash of anguish?” The young girl approached them, a small bird settled on her shoulder as if it was a tree branch, her modest but elegant dress dragging itself across the cobblestones as she moved. She greeted the Oracle and addressed the others, her voice trembling.

“Be-beloved envoys” — Anastasia seemed even smaller than before as she talked — “I am just a simple mess-simple messenger. The Lords of Dawnbreak asked me to deliver their worries and to plead on th-their behalf. I hope my message will be heard.” — she stopped for a second and turned towards the Oracle — “But before I share it, perhaps the others could be introduce-introduced, as well? If it isn’t a problem, o-of course! I wouldn’t wish to exhaust you, Your Grace.” she stammered, looking at the figure with warmth and a strange soothness. If seeing an inquisitor was a cause for alarm, Anastasia’s gentle aura invoked a feeling of complacency and happiness.

Ylwari couldn’t shake a feeling that magic was involved, but didn’t say anything. Innocence doesn’t have to be a cover for miraculous enchantments, even if it seems like it. The Oracle spoke again.

“Young thou may be, yet thy heart seems to harbor grace. There shan’t be any harm in accepting thy plea. Come.” The Oracle then beckoned Oona to step forward. She looked frail, yet each step carried a sense of certainty and experience, a vast contrast to the priestess that came before her. Ylwari could tell that the old witch has seen many things and knew many truths, yet would shroud them in secret at any moment if necessary. This time was no different from the perspective of someone as adept in diplomacy as Ylwari. However, something seemed odd — Oona appeared to be in pain.

“The youngling’s gesture is much appreciated. Lady Lia did the right thing by choosing you. You show great promise.” Oona’s overall presence caused unease around the other envoys as if they had to continuously resist being compelled to speak their truest mind so it came as no surprise that her mildly patronising words startled the young girl, as if a needle pierced her mind. Anastasia’s stance became more defensive and her muscles tensed; all could feel the stakes had risen a notch. The Oracle gazed upon the witch and the priestess, uttering no word yet giving them a disappointed look. “Nightshade…” Ylwari stepped in. “Dear envoys, stay calm — please.”

“I am sure Lady Oona meant well. If I may?” Ylwari put her hands on both envoys and nodded to reassure them, her skin smooth to the touch like alabaster, her snakes reflecting the light on their iridescent scales, her presence an equaliser between the two of them — like a gentle, parently touch during a bad dream. The tiniest, fresh traces of Nightshade magic could be felt within Anastasia and flickers of holy dust gleamed on Oona’s face — like little specks of mercury poisoning one another. She focused on them and drew them out. Once that was done, the Oracle whispered something in a language long forgotten by the others and a pristine dome had been raised around the plaza.

“As imbalance threatens thine convocation, there I have raised a barrier that shall keep peace. Should anyone outside — or inside — try to interrupt thine musings, they shan’t succeed.” The Oracle’s power was tremendous. To erect such a barrier required powers only few beings in Jadame were capable of. “Could they be a vessel of the Forefathers?” Ylwari’s thoughts were interrupted by the Oracle’s speech.

“Thine proceedings may continue.” — they said, their voice dispassionate — “Speak, young sapling. Thou beheld thyself in quiet this entire time — a feat I do not remember you for.” Elder Tss'kish was a massive creature, the tips of his crown gently touching the top of Oracle’s dome, like the canopy of a forest beneath the calm sky. Very few treants could reach the size he did, but not many of them stayed in the world long enough for that to happen. To have him referred to as a young sapling was very amusing to Ylwari. The Elder’s steps shook the ground a little bit as he approached the rest of the envoys alongside his escort.

“Our Mycelium sings, my friend. It speaks of pain, of sorrow and of nothingness. It sent me to remind the sproutlings of the consequences. I bring that song with me so that you may grant it your voice, old friend.” As soon as the ancient treant was done talking, the Oracle put their hand on his bark and started chanting, their body not their own but rather an extension of something greater.

“A tyme of stryfe and woe shall follow the ‘Aege of Shefar,’ and in this Aege, all shall fall to naught as the gates of chaos are opened unto Enroth. And this shall be a sygn unto ye — when the elemental forces of the Earth, the Wind, the Fyre and the Water shall freely roam your lands, to usher death and destruction upon theyr wings, ye shall have entered the fynale Aege, ‘the Aege of Purification.’ Once this Aege hath begun, there shalt be no recourse. For lo’ the lords of the Earth, the Wind, the Fyre and the Water both giveth lyfe unto thee and stryketh lyfe from thee. In tymes of stryfe the cycle of destruction cannot be avoided and thyne only repose shall be death. However, in tymes of harmony those that gather in allyance shall stand the possibility of surviving the purification and warding off the end of the ‘Aege of Shefar’ to enjoy a prolonged era of peace.”

The silence in the plaza was deafening — anyone present would think that all sound had been suddenly drained out of the dome they were in. Ylwari looked around — Oona, Anastasia and Gingertail were all pale as they understood the implications of the prophecy. Mr Loudrin kept a nonchalant smile, but it was clear to her that it was a facade to hide the panic behind his eyes. Only the Oracle and the treant remained calm and focused.

“Thine worries are understandable and I shan’t deny that a grim fate awaits should we not adhere to the warnings.” The Oracle remained as dispassionate as they had been since the start of the council. Oona and Ylwari gently nodded. However, not everyone could maintain the same composure.

“How can you expect us to talk about proph-prophecies or peace, when there are monsters am-among us?!” Anastasia was shaking, her uneasiness replaced with anger. “What would you have us do, child — stab each other here and now, so that the rest of the continent would fall to chaos? — Oona seemed displeased with the priestess — “You need to spend less time around that Fiery Catalina and her cries for violence.” With the situation quickly devolving into ceaseless bickering, Ylwari decided to take control of the situation.

“Dear envoys, please — this is not the time for philosophical debates. You may have different views but our goal is a common one. If we don’t put our differences aside, there will be nothing to come back to.” — she continued — “Don’t you both enjoy the revelry as your people — our people — partake in festivities on the continent whenever they happen? Don’t you wish we could focus on the beauty of the upcoming Equinox in one of the Jadamean markets? All of that just gone in a blaze of conflict if we let our emotions cloud our judgement.”

Ylwari’s words, infused with that soothing ripple in her voice, ended up striking true. Both the priestess and the witch looked at each other, then at her and the others, moved away from each other and turned pensive. Seeing the opportunity to take control of the ongoing debate, Ylwari continued.

“Furthermore, the latest events across the continent resulted in our most esteemed minds left completely perplexed — they cannot understand why the fauna acts this way. Many of their schools have also been raided by the insects, leading to even more speculation as to what these phenomena across the continent mean. My lieges back in Alvar have decided to increase security of the colleges, temples, observatories and universities as it was initially believed to be intentional acts of sabotage, but the chaotic nature of these attacks makes it incredibly difficult to predict where this…hive will strike next. Reports also indicate that some of the scholars are missing — I'm worried for their whereabouts.”

Ylwari looked around the plaza, her snakes gently sticking their tongues out as if to measure what impact her news left upon the gathered envoys. It was a calculated move as while all of them had different views and perspectives on philosophical and religious matters, none would accept the loss of brilliant minds that were hard at work harnessing what little knowledge they could from the readings in the stars left behind by the Forefathers. Surprisingly, Anastasia was the first one to respond.

“I know ho-how important the scholars are, but what about the small-smallfolk? On the way here I witnessed the horrors f-first hand: families torn to-to shreds, blood and gore on the roads, houses on fire, cattle felled or gone m-m-mad. These people need our help too. If we ignore and leave them to their fa-fates, then even if we avert the crisis, there will be nobody lef-left to s-save. Lady Zenith and her Lightweavers sent aid to who-whoever we were able to reach out to, but our supplies aren’t sizable enough to provide for everyone — sooner or la-later hunger will take hold of every-hold of everyone affected by these.”

She may have been the youngest among the gathered diplomats, but compassion for the poor and the hardworking was the one trait the priestess expressed in abundance — the result of her roots as an initiate. Hushed whispers of approval were exchanged among the envoys’ guards, which were then quickly silenced as Oona had chosen to address the council.

“Your words may come from a place of concern and worry, but how much truth do they carry?” — Oona disregarded Anastasia’s plea, focusing entirely on Ylwari’s message — “My fellow brethren have discovered strange activity in our lands: odd sigils placed on the ground in villages, unnatural magic traces covering corpses, rumours of spies infiltrating our guilds. Moreover, the Duskmire Swamps have been a place of absolute chaos lately, with the hydras there acting excessively aggressive, as if enticed to do so. What can you tell us about that?”

All eyes were set upon Ylwari now. She had to think of something as — to her knowledge — none of this activity was approved by the Spymaster nor the rest of the Triumvirate. Could these be connected to the insectoid activity in any way? However, this wasn’t the end of accusations towards her lords.

“The song is discordant.” Elder Tss’kish’s words echoed throughout the plaza. “Where harmony used to reign, tethers and false notes appear. All that mana — wild, chaotic, volatile — brings ruin to Mycelium. Nightmarish shapes not of this world take form, then freeze and shatter what has been a part of our song for centuries. Should they continue to do so, the song will be broken and the barriers taken down. Do not let the song go silent.”

What were previously just whispers between the entourage of each respective envoy, has now turned into a cacophony of squabbles and arguments. The Oracle spoke again, this time raising their hand to draw everyone’s attention to themselves.

“Thine temper betrays thee. Hath thee no land to protect? Hath thee no kin to shield? Apply thyself. ‘Tis no time for pettiness. Aeons ‘fore thine lives had begun, this world had seen many calamities.” The Oracle waved their hand and the mirror next to them had begun to ripple, as if they had disturbed a water surface. Images of spherical contraptions that seemed both mechanical and magical in nature appeared to watch as many enemies clashed against one another, undead dragons among them. The constructs seemed both alien and familiar in shape, as if subconsciously they were known to the envoys on some fundamental, core level. Once the vision was gone from the mirror, the Oracle continued.

“Order must be maintained. Thine quarrels shall only lead to thine ancient protectors deeming you as part of mayhem thine lords wish to eradicate — if this convocation fails.” Silence reigned once again. What had been a warning the first time, now almost seemed like a threat from forces far older than anyone else gathered there, including the ancient treant. Finally, after what had felt like an eternity, Ylwari addressed everyone in the plaza.

“My dearest envoys,” — Ylwari’s words were woven with great care, each syllable a note meant to deliver the exact tone and message she wished to convey — “I hear your concerns and I must admit the situation seems to be far more serious than even our lieges believe it to be. It is even more imperative, then, that we stand united against the oncoming storm.” — she paused for a moment, then continued — “When I’d stood before Her Majesty Amelchia, She spoke to me not from the position of a monarch or a ruler but of someone who was willing to sacrifice their own dreams if it meant that Jadame — and everything it has to offer — is preserved for the generations to come.” — Ylwari stopped for a second to reveal a scroll with what appeared to be a mix of draconic runes, elven writing and minotaur seals — “In order to do so She, alongside the rest of Triumvirate of Alvar, has permitted me to provide any of you and your lords with full military, civilian and magical support our people have to offer should you join our cause. She has also granted me the right to share the call for help we have received from Garrote Gorge.”

The sight of the decree from the Triumvirate surprised the envoys. While it wasn’t uncommon for different missions to carry direct missives from their lieges, the Alvar Pact, as a nation, has rarely — if ever — invoked their laws on what could have been considered a countrywide scale, preferring to let local powers form treaties and then relay the results of such negotiations to the capital city, effectively forming a flexible network of fiefdoms. However, the diplomats’ musings had to wait as Ylwari continued her speech.

“There are as many opinions among dragons as there are scale colours shared between them.” — Ylwari’s mention of dragonkind spurred hushed whispers that quickly died off as she continued — “Yet the one thing I believe they all have in common is their pride and belief that few beings on the continent can threaten them. To have them in Garrote Gorge sending calls for aid to Her Majesty — whose ideals they had considered beneath them — alerted Her near immediately. Our investigation into the matter has revealed that many eggs were stolen — Her Majesty’s brethren slain or driven mad by old magic. Whether this is the work of some higher intelligence or just a series of accidents remains to be seen, but it is clear to us that it’s an act meant to throw the region into disarray and shatter the alliance we’ve worked so hard to achieve.” A new emotion entered the plaza: fear. Dragons were thought to be immense juggernauts capable of destruction, whilst near impervious to it. To learn that not only many of them had been destroyed, but that their precious eggs were taken? A few hours ago Ylwari would have been called a liar, a fraud, but now? After everything that had been shared between the council, the terror of something slaying dragons in droves was just another tune of the cataclysmic choir the Oracle had presented them with — and yet Ylwari wasn’t done relaying the dire findings.

“In addition to what I have shared so far, there’s one more matter you need to be made aware of. Many centuries ago, Alvarian elves abandoned most of the ancestral holdings they had inherited from the ancient Vori for reasons nobody seems to remember anymore. Those monuments to the past had been sealed off due to disrepair and remained undisturbed until recently. Reports from the Frozen Keeps talk of mystical forces that have ransacked many of them, leaving strange markings and extremely high magical readings scattered across them. We were made aware of them shortly after one of our agents suddenly stopped sending us missives but we have not been able to track them down since the incursion into the ruins. Their activity also aligns with what the envoys of Shadowspire and the Murmurwoods have reported in their accusations. Who knows what their goal was — and what they have stolen from there? I wish I knew, but so far it remains a mystery that will have to be solved sooner rather than later. What I can assure you of — dear envoys — is that whoever is behind these renegades does not act on Triumvirate’s orders.”

The ruins in question dated all the way back to the times close to the Silence and were attributed to ancient Vori settlers. Whoever had chosen to meddle with them was more than aware of the secrets they could potentially contain.

“I presume you have a contingency prepared for that.” Oona was the first one to speak and Ylwari was more than willing to indulge her.

“It is true. As long as there’s suspicious activity in places long forgotten and forbidden, and the insectoid raids persist, I'm afraid the continent will remain in chaos. This is why we wish to offer the following plan.” — Ylwari stopped for a second, pulled out another official missive from Triumvirate, then started reading it.

“By the power vested in us through the admiration and trust of our people, we — Queen Amelchia of the Stygianscales; Grand Architect Balthazar, Son of Balthazar and Chieftain of His Lair; and Master Caspair Silvertongue, Patriarch of the Alvarian Elves — hereby wish to invite all, who would seek to protect Jadame from threats that would leave it forever scarred, to join us in laying down weapons against each other and raising them against those whose desire is to destroy our beloved continent. Should this Winter Armistice we propose come into effect, our borders will be open to you and our relics of power will be at your full disposal. In return we ask that your archives and banks of wisdom become open to us so that we can evaluate the threats clawing at our people and seek out the strange perpetrators you may have witnessed. We reserve the right to withdraw from this agreement should any side try to abuse it to harm another member of this Armistice.

Alvar diruil.”

As soon as Ylwari was done reading, the entire plaza burst into a cacophony of sounds. What the Triumvirate suggested was seen as preposterous to many, blasphemous to some and impossible to a few of them. A difficult task was ahead of her.

Ylwari looked around — the chaos that she had witnessed was enormous. As she had expected, Anastasia and Oona were bickering with one another, accusing each other of monstrous acts, their lords disrespecting the Dusk Treaty and going as far as to suggest the insectoid threat was just a diversion created by their masters to allow free conquest of Jadame by either the Church or the Guild. What surprised the young medusa was that Gingertail and Benjamin were also arguing with one another, the former calling the latter delusional if he thinks the Fey will allow his entrepreneurs anywhere near the forest even if it’s just to seek knowledge. The wording behind the missive put everyone in disarray and it was clear that personal animosities and prejudices will always ignite conflict.

“Dear envoys, once again I’d like to” — but nobody listened to her this time. Unable to get through their shouts, Ylwari was ready to simply wait it out, but the Oracle had other plans. They raised their hand and once more the plaza felt drained of sound.

“Thine blood burns too hot within thee and thine temper needs constant reminding of what’s at stake. Were it not the fate of the continent that shall be decided here, thine bloodlust would have already devoured this place. Remind thyself that it is not thine future thy must protect here, but of thine younglings and prospects. Should this convocation fail, the beauty of this place shall be gone.”

The Oracle used the mirror once again, showcasing an animal that hasn’t been seen for a long time: a kittenhorn. These little playful creatures used to be a common sight on Jadame in ancient times, yet nowadays only a handful of their hunting grounds remain in this world. To be reminded of something so primal, majestic and yet fading away because of mortal pettiness gave everyone a moment of clarity. Oona was the first to speak.

“By the power vested in me by my fellow scholars in the Necromancer’s Guild of the Shadowspire Chapter, I, Shadespinner Oona, pledge our allegiance to your cause and solemnly swear to help you uncover the truth behind these matters.” The necromancers being the first to agree surprised Ylwari, yet she was glad to have their support.

“We shall join our song with yours for it is change that has always guided the Mycelium and it is change that shall keep it safe. Let our choir aid you with their music and our forests show you the way.” The Elder’s words resonated with power and greatness, and were joined by his entourage thumping their closed fists against their chests — a union of gentleness of the forest wind and ferocity of its guardians.

All eyes were set on Anastasia. She could be seen calculating her decision — after all, such alliances, however fickle, held great power and would leave a lasting impact on the pages of history. After a short moment, she answered, her voice steady for the first time: “As the Chalice dictates and as the light is mighty, I, Anastasia, Priestess of the Sun and envoy to my lords in Dawnbreak, pledge my powers and those of our beloved Order to your service. Let the powers that be know that, however strange this land is, we shall protect it with the same fervor as the cause we believe in.”

As soon as Anastasia said her words, the Mirror next to the Oracle lit up with the sigils of Forefathers, as if binding them all to their agreement. Their actions were watched and from now on they would be held responsible for breaking the armistice. Ylwari was relieved that she had achieved the results her lieges desired. She drew everyone’s attention to herself and started speaking.

“I am extremely grateful that we have managed to come to an agreement between one another. I know that it wasn’t an easy decision to make and I hope we all get to reap the benefits of such mutual exchange.” As she was preparing to slither towards other envoys to thank them in person, the Oracle raised their hand one final time and spoke:

“Be wary — thine pledge is henceforth worth more than thy might have thought. The consequences of breaking thine alliance shall be more severe than you expect.” They lowered their hand and the barrier formed by them followed, indicating the end of the council.

As diplomats started thanking Ylwari for her decisive and gentle approach to the meeting and dispersing to their lounges prior to their departure, her own thoughts were elsewhere. “I have to talk to the Oracle. There may not be another chance.”

Ylwari’s thoughts got interrupted by snow — the herald of Winter Equinox, also known as Winter Solstice in Jadame: a name that varied between its many cultures. There was no time to waste. She slithered across the plaza to rejoin Benjamin and the Oracle, who were on their way to leave it for the Loudrin Estate.

“What brings your attention here, little dreamer?” — The Elf and his wits were always quick and it was no different this time. — “I thought I’d assist you and the Oracle a little bit, mayhaps there’s something you wish to ask but haven’t yet.” — Yet hers were just as quick. — “Fancy a stroll with us in that case, miss Ylwari?”

The town was a sight to behold. Ylwari remembered times from before the Loudrins, when it was but a couple of huts and fishermen, and history records indicated Templar influence in the area of what could be considered the founding stones of the town. To see it as a prospering multicultural port was impressive not only upon entry but even whilst casually traversing across its streets.

They reached the main road leading to the estate and stopped for a moment. “What’s thy worry, child?” — The Oracle could sense Ylwari was here for a purpose and not to ponder about the cityscape. — “I’ve been meaning to thank the illustrious Mr Loudrin for assistance. Without his influence and connections I’m afraid this council would not have gone so well. However, I wish to ask: what part do you play in this, dear Oracle? What did Benjamin ask of you to bring you here?”

The Oracle chuckled, surprising the young medusa a little bit as they were impassive until this very moment. They looked at the sea and said:

“Tis our task to watch the events as they unfold and to announce the folly should they not be unveiled and acted upon. The young elf was merely an instrument to reveal thine tasks at the most opportune time.” — They looked at the sky and continued — “However, be wary, Young Ylwari, for conflict brews at thy very heart. Minds and souls alike shall be engulfed in it, and the very fabric of reality shall be torn apart. When? We cannot tell as time does not flow as it should whenever these are concerned. We shall observe thy actions with great interest.”

Ylwari passed the outer walls of the town and was on her way back to Alvar. Benjamin provided her and her entourage with the highest quality provisions for the road, along with all other luxuries he could, and let her know that she’s welcome in his estate anytime she wishes to make a journey to Ravenshore. However, the generosity of House Loudrin was the last thing she could think of right now.

The Oracle’s words echoed in her mind. A warning like that was very rare as the Oracle was not known for such a direct approach; and yet she couldn’t shake off the feeling that it was granted to her for a reason: that there may be something she will have to watch out for in the future. But what? How do all of these things connect? Where do the insects come into play here?

“I will deal with these as they come.” — She thought — “What matters now is informing The Triumvirate of our success. I only hope this Armistice will last. It has to.” For the first time in her life, Ylwari felt that she will have to be more than a simple envoy. She will have to understand how quickly allegiances can change and what can compel such a transformation. However, that’s a story for another time…