A subdued flame...

Somewhere within the North Cardinal.

A towering structure stood unchallenged, even as the dark rain lashed its ancient walls with much more rage than sorrow.

The roars of monstrosities were fiercer here than anywhere else in Astrea. Yet the death toll among those that fought them and those that called the North of Astrea as their home was curiously low, than anywhere else in Astrea.

In the South, numbers were being culled even to this minute, as the Surge was quickly coming to a close. In the East, things were quite average at best, with everyone fighting on their own.

And quite miraculously, it had saved them from more death.

The West was and has always been supiciously quiet, but everyone had learned not to delve much into the matters of the West. 

And then came the North with constant numbers.

And that made up the four Cardinal directional regions that divided the whole of Astrea.

The sheer number of slain creatures within the North alone had dyed the land black with ichor, leaving it barren, corrupted, cursed, and yet strangely fertile—haunted by wails that grew louder with every passing surge.

What the end result of it was? None really cared, for the 'Light of the Eternal Flame would bear the burden'.

Far beneath the dark earth lay something one could only describe as an advent of horror. The scenes unfolding within this subterranean space were nothing short of pure nightmare. 

The underground structure resembled a small, ancient cathedral, its towering columns vast yet quaint, regal yet subdued, their presence so muted that one could barely fathom how the structure had come into existence if not naturally formed, for it fit so well with the earth below that many would not even notice it were a structure in the first place. The colors were dull and lifeless.

The air carried an unseen weight, its presence veiled yet unmistakable—a place of worship for something far greater than mortals.

At least that's the picture painted by figures seen kneeling on the bare floor, with hoods covering all their features.

Why wear hooded robes when you were the only ones present? 

At the center of the cathedral stood a simple, ornate altar, constructed from the most mundane materials available in Astrea.Nothing about screamed divinity. And yet a strange, lulling presence permeated the atmosphere.

But this had little to do with the figures gathered there.

Draped in cloaks of the finest silks yet tailored to embody a subdued luxury—looking more like a commoner's garb than a noble's—they knelt before the altar, foreheads touching the ground in reverence.

Soft chants drifted through the air, soothing syllables forming what could only be mantras, whispering prayers to that which was unseen.

There were only three of them. Two bore the forms of men, their physiques hinting at masculine strength, while the third was a female figure, her proportions and aura marking her as something extraordinary.

Yet, beyond these surface observations, their identities remained hidden and mysterious.

"The Great Flame that has never sought worship, the Great Light that illuminates an invisible glow—we, your children, have come to seek your blessing for the fated union."

The leading figure, noticeably larger than the others, spoke. His voice was aged yet soft, like the whisper of wind or the rustling of leaves at midnight. 

"My daughter and her beloved have come seeking your favor— underneath a warmth that has never sought to shine."

Though his words carried an increasing weight of devotion, his tone never once rose; it was still soft like empty winds.

The figures behind him did not stir, though they were the very subjects of his prayer.

And so it became clear who the female figure was. His daughter....

At first, there was nothing unusual about the scene—a father praying for the blessed union of his daughter and the young man he had recently come to favor.

But that was only if one failed to observe their surroundings.

Encircling them was a deep pit, dug in a perfect ring around the altar. Its purpose unknown, save for the constant sloshing sounds with faint, weakened screams that rose from its unseen depths. No light shone within it, only a subdued glow, making it impossible to discern what lurked within.

With every moment that passed by, a flickering flame would ignite upon the altar—only to be snuffed out in an instant, as if struggling against an invisible wind.

The air itself moved in hushed tones, whispering through the cathedral's walls as though in feigned reverence 

It would brush against kneeling figures with a touch almost maternal, sending visible shivers through their forms as they fought to maintain their composure.

'He has come.'

'the waning flame has shown us his unseen splendor.'

The girl's thoughts swelled in excitement, betraying her otherwise composed posture. A few loose strands of her waning golded braid slipped free, catching the dim glow.

It was a strange gold—rich yet muted, tinged with gray as though the brilliance of its shine had been deliberately veiled.

Realizing her mistake, she swiftly tucked the strands back beneath the hood of her gray robes, momentarily revealing the soft, grey hue of her skin; it was supple, luminous in an unnatural way, hinting at beauty both ethereal and forbidden. 

A beauty meant to be left to the imagination.

She dared not move again.

She had felt her father's silent warning—like a weight pressing upon her, though he had not so much as twitched the whole time. The chanting continued uninterrupted. 

The third figure, however, had not moved at all since there arrival. If not for the faint, rhythmic rise of his chest and the subtle tremors that wracked his form, one might have mistaken him for a lamenting corpse.

Then, the atmosphere shifted.

A silent wail echoed through the air—an ethereal sorrow that clawed for recognition among the living. But none acknowledged it. Or preharps, they had simply chosen to ignore it.

Something was terribly wrong.

He knew it.

But he dared not voice his doubts, lest he earn ire for treading upon truths that were never meant to see light.

Still the weight of suffering pressed upon him, so deeply woven into the air that even he, with his unique nature, had nearly overlooked it.

And yet...

He simply did not care...

Why chase elusive answers when all that he needed was in front of him?

His mind held room for only one thing.

That woman.

His head lifted ever so slightly—just enough to steal a glimpse at her.

And there she was, her body ever so proportionate, her curves out and splayed for only him to see. her figure so perfect, he simply could not wait.

The golden glow of his eyes burned like twin embers in the darkness, illuminating the world in his gaze.

Even with his features obscured beneath the hood, the fire in his stare alone hinted at the depths of his passion, his obsession.

Today she would be his.

Princess Rena Northflame, the only daughter of the Nothern Cardinal Duke, the temptress of the North, the bloodied flower of the North, would be devoured by him alone.