As the first rays of dawn pierced the clouds over the Realm of Eternal Night, Alvis knelt before the cold altar, running his fingertips over an obsidian slab etched with cracks. The star chart on its surface had long since faded, but the silver-white trail cutting across its center remained clear. It was the starting point of the “Game of the Gods,” and the mark of fate stamped upon all who defied destiny. His people had once been guardians of this continent. Now they had become forgotten dust, forced to whisper their prayers amid the ruins.
