The Dark Millennium

The Border of Chaos, Wildlands of the Four Realms.

Jeramy walked through the thick, almost tangible nameless mist. Beneath the cracked leather of his battered army boots, the rotting, spongy earth glimmered with an unnatural luster. Within the darkness, chaos-tainted fiends whispered in chilling, sibilant voices—but he strode forward without fear. This rough-hewn man was as wild and untamed as the beast pelts he wore, his flaxen hair a tangled mane down his back, his exposed skin weathered and ruined like ancient leather. Only his black eyes shone, bright as the star-strewn night sky.

“Too quiet,” he said, exhaling a ring of smoke into the fog.

As one of the Night Watchers, Jeramy was more familiar with the Wildlands than any other. The Evernight Wall, erected by the Forebears as the first bastion against darkness and chaos, had indeed served to some extent as a barrier between order and chaos. Yet the wall alone could never fully hold back the nameless horrors that crawled within the chaos. Even the beacons of order, burning eternally, could not disperse the palpable mist.

Thus a second line of defense was born.

The Flame.

The Flame was civilization, hope, and the incarnation of order. The war between chaos and order began in a past so distant it defied memory, in the age of the Forebears. It is said that in the beginning, there was no order—only blind, ignorant chaos—until the Forebears came from the light, their steadfast will illuminating the path ahead, their tempered swords cleaving the darkness that barred the way. From light wa