A cold world. A broken world. An evil world. A dead world.
Valvicin. Bitter winds whip the earth. The only things to mark the endless red dirt and rocks are the colossal stone structures, each glowing with an ethereal energy, each alive, each waiting for victims. Tombs. Burial grounds of the ancient Valvicin Lords.
Yes, the stories all tell you the same thing, the bards all sing the same song. A tale of the Valvicin Lords, how they raised all the worlds in tumult and storm, brought down their volleys of destruction, raining fire and brimstone... and how the Masters of the Holy Order rose to defeat them. How their war started, and how it ended, with the Valvicin Lords resting cold and dead for all time. Yes, we've all heard the stories.
But the tales of history are often a happy lie to cover something darker.
For the Valvicin Lords were greater than a ruler, who lives and then dies and then is gone. They were greater even than a dynasty, which carries on until at last a child is overthrown. The Valvicin Lords were something entirely different. Are something entirely different.
The Valvicin Lords are an idea, and an idea will never die.
A cold world. A broken world. An evil world. A sleeping world.
A world soon to awaken again.