At dusk in the City of Endure, the merchants working their outer city booths tore down the poles of their colorful tents and packed up their trading wares for the day. A steady stream of men and women plodded by them and through the North Gate to the inner city. Most returned home after working the fields beyond Endure, others had enjoyed a short trip browsing and trading within the rows of the outer city market. The scent of fresh winter's wheat lofted through the air, sweetening the city's usual musk.

Chancellor Marcus Thane stood gracefully above it all, observing from his grand arched office window in the Citadel. It faced the west where he could witness the day turn in for sleep, a favorite pastime. He had learned to appreciate the beauty in life, no matter what troubles lay ahead. His black and gold robes covered his slight belly which felt like it might burst. He had indulged, as he did too often, in more than one custard tart for dessert, but after news that Jaspel had disappeared and was presumed dead, he felt no need to curb his appetite. 

It only left him troubled and cemented his decision to leave. He hoped Jaspel's initiate was safe and in good hands somewhere. He couldn't feel their presence, so they must have been somewhere far away.  Though he could feel the power rising in his own initiate, a little bit every day. It was only a matter of time. The sooner he left the better, but his heart ached as he realized it may be the last time he surveyed his city's bustle.

The Citadel, where Chancellor Thane was housed, stood in the heart of Endure. It was a grand structure, its silver peaks bigger than any castle in Valterra, bigger than the Royal Church of Light in Dunne. Its huge brownstone walls inlaid with gold and silver ornaments loomed over the inner city. He heard shouts and laughter below, merriment at the days ending. The inn across the street already had a crowd waiting to get in as performers played quick melodies on the fiddle and flute while many people sang along in rhythm from inside. Smoke filled the air as chimneys were lit across the city, and candles began to burn in far off windows creating a dance of flame across the stone cityscape. 

An Honor Guard walked the streets and lit the lamp lights, to give the citizens more light to lead their way. They would burn until at least midnight, anyone walking home after that would have to take their chances with the dark. Not that any should have reason to worry, but Jaspel's disappearance was an omen, at least to Marcus, a reminder the Dark was rising, and those who follow could be anywhere.

During easier days, Marcus spent his time counseling citizens and mediating concerns, whether individual needs or feuds between neighbors, he would surely miss his duties as Chancellor. More so his other responsibilities, like blessings on Feastdays and storytelling on Namedays. Those he particularly liked because there was always plenty of food afterward, not to mention the dancing and happiness those celebrations brought with them. He lived for the social aspect of his position. People brought a smile to his face and he often went out of his way to meet their needs, sometimes without having to be asked. He was certain he would be missed as well. Perhaps not by the Elders, or those he advised on the Council. He knew it was his young face, never changing, that kept them ill at ease, but they heard him all the same, and most respected his words.

With such a jovial life here, he often forgot the true reason he'd been appointed Chancellor all those years ago. No one could replace him but his initiate, who'd finally been born only seventeen years prior and was ready to be brought to the Light. The time was nigh. 

He pulled himself away from the window and rifled through reports of strange tidings on his desk. They were from all over Valterra; lakes drying up overnight, nightmares coming to life and skirmishes between once peaceful folk. All he had dreamt had come to pass. His prophetic visions, all now on the verge of coming true had distanced him from recent responsibilities as he planned his next moves. Each step calculated to ensure all was in place before for his journey. People kept asking him if he was well or needed rest. He'd wave away their concerns with a smile. The business he was concerned with was only myths and legends as far as most people believed. The Birds of Tides, the Shattering, the Crystal Elves, the Soulless. No one really knew the ancient tales were true and the fight between the Light's warriors and the Dark's minions was about to start again. Small uprisings had occurred over the years, of course, but they were quickly suppressed, appearing as mere wars to most. 

He swiped the reports into a pile and placed them in the top drawer of his desk. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and tried to calm his thoughts, allowing himself time for one more vision. The songs from the city below muted, soft echoes took their place as he focused on his breathing and sought the Light. When he found it, he looked inside himself for guidance. When the vision overtook him, he jolted, let it flood through him from beyond. It showed him the same images from his own dreams theses last few nights; a familiar face, hands aflame, lightning storms piercing the skies, mountains forming and gigantic waves crashing against the shores. He even saw himself fighting the dead; poor draugar raised by the Dark.

Once he came out of the vision and back to reality, he buried his sadness at leaving his post and set fire to his determination. He turned away from his desk and started making a mental list of last minute details. Mostly everything had been attended to as far as collecting supplies for his travels and writing to those he counseled to forgive his absence. He still needed to send word to Lucinde to expect their arrival, and most importantly, he had to convince the Elders his dreams were real and prepare them for what's to come.

"Master Thane?" Marcus jumped and spun around at the unexpected interruption. It was his Page who beckoned from an open door to the hallway beyond. "The birds are at your disposal, my Lord."

He sighed and acknowledged. "Thank you, Henry. Call a meeting of the Council, then you may retire for the night."

"A meeting?" Henry began but did not wait for a response as he bowed and answered "yes, my Lord, right away." 

Marcus smirked as Henry rushed out of the room, he knew better than to question his master. 

The birds were back. Yes, he had to send the message. First things first. Marcus put a hand to his chest. Inside his robes, a tiny rolled piece of parchment lay safe inside a hidden pocket. He'd written Lucinde during the waning moon, letting her know about Jaspel's disappearance or death and the strange events. Plus he told her the time had come to use the scrolls she protected, even if she wasn't ready. 

He was reluctant to send his message by horse, dreams of the dead made him unsure of who could be trusted. He thought it best to send it out through a carrier pigeon. He had asked Henry to remind him to send it out at dusk to decrease the risk of its demise by predators or any other creatures of the Dark. A Bringer's eyes could be anywhere. 

He grabbed his packed satchel from under his bed and blew out all the candles that lit his room and scurried out and down the long hallway to the stairs. He raced past portraits of Kings and Queens from another age, who seemed to loom down upon him from the walls. He turned right through an archway and began climbing up a long winding stone stairwell that led to the mailing coops.

 Breathing heavily as he reached the rooftop, he opened a cage and grabbed a bird he specifically trained to fly to Bolster. He plucked the message from his inner pocket, carefully unrolled it and took one last glance at it before tying it to the bird's leg for delivery. Two loops, three knots, and it was done.

Walking out into the brisk night air, Endure's glow captivated him. The shining lamp lights in the streets below now looked like a huge maze of fire, the soft flickering candlelight on windows like falling embers. Rarely up here so late, he was thankful for the enchanting view. He threw the animal up into the air and watched, only for a moment, as it flew determinedly towards its destination. 

The Elders no doubt waited below, roused by Henry. He took his leave from the birds and made his way back down into the Citadel and towards the Grand Chamber.

"This is preposterous, Marcus, you can't actually believe the Soulless will return?" Elder Drume, the speaker designate, already waved a hand in dismissal, turning around and shaking his head. Marcus was not easily prone to anger, but the Elders had been dismissing his worries since the Great War. The two men stood in the Grand Chamber, in front of a podium where other members of the Council sat in observing silence. Elders, wealthy landholders and high members of the Guard made up most of the Council. But it was late, not the usual time to call a meeting, so only the Elders who resided in the Citadel were in attendance.

"I know, Elder Drume, I know. It sounds far fetched but--"

"Far fetched! You act as though these dreams are real!" The Elder looked up at the Council in disbelief.

Marcus had never seen Elder Drume so frazzled. He paced back and forth in small, fragile steps. For being an Elder, he was still quite younger than Marcus, though he didn't look it.

The Elder must have believed some of what Marcus told him, otherwise he wouldn't have lost his composure so quickly. To him the Soulless were just stories, legends of old. Marcus reminded him how long he had been Chancellor and told them he had faced the Soulless before. They could only take his word for it, and that made them weary. He reminded them of the Great War and his fight with the Raven. 

Marcus remembered the Soulless clear as day; once living humans, reanimated through the Dark's magic. Some would die willingly, trading their soul to the Dark for a chance at immortality. All lies of course, for who could live without a soul?

If they were bound to the Dark before their death, they were called Bringers, tasked to do the Dark's bidding. But most were warriors. Most were chosen for their strength, their fearlessness in the face of conflict, but more so for their inability to care for another's life, especially when protecting their own. Perfect soldiers. Thousands of them had been brainwashed just before the Shattering, thousands had died.

Once Bringers were killed, they would rise again, dead but undead, Soulless, cursed to follow the Dark's orders, and spelled with a hunger for rotting flesh. Centuries ago, they took out many armies and towns by surprise when they first arose. Now they were long forgotten except in the minds of a few.

"There was someone else in my dreams, Elder Drume. It was Ivar, the Raven. I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of him. And these strange reports? We had no such tidings before the Great War. I have a very bad feeling here and I need you to trust that I know what this means."

The Raven, a corrupted Primordial, who Marcus knew as the Earth Builder, had engaged and led the Bringers of the Great War. If he was truly back, Marcus knew it wouldn't be long before he faced him again.

Elder Drume stopped pacing, growing stern as he faced Marcus.

"It is said Primordials have been resurrected throughout the ages, since the beginning of time, with the same purpose; to hold the balance of nature," he smacked his fist into his palm. "To protect life, to guide the elements, to ensure the stability of future generations to come. Tell me again, Marcus, why did this Raven betray us? This Shadowbringer?"

"He was tainted by the Dark, my Lord. You know this. Turned. Usurped. There really is no way of knowing how early he was touched. The Dark grows stronger every day. Young Ivar fooled us all."

Though Ivar was no more, he was sure of that, for it was Marcus who pushed a blade through Ivar's chest, watched him die, and buried him in an unmarked grave. His death ended the Great War. So how does he live? What has he become?

"And you're certain it is the Shadowbringer in your dreams?" Elder Prath called out from the podium.

Marcus looked up to all the Elders, and though he knew it should be absolutely impossible, he replied, "Yes, my Lords, I'm certain." His voice shook ever so slightly as he felt a vision take hold of him and urged him to speak. "But take heed," his booming voice echoed, making Elder Drume take a step back. "A drought will lay waste, sickness and hunger will rise. Valterra will become a shadow, a desert storm, enveloped by the Soulless. If the Shadowbringer returns, he will bleed the earth and build it no more." Marcus gasped and wavered as the vision left him. 

The Council sat in silent contemplation, worry encapsulating their features.

When he felt more himself, Marcus added, "Elder Drume, you know what I am, you know what my initiate has the potential to become, what I have done to ensure her survival! I can assure you, I would like these prophecies to be a prelude to as little as possible, but I am not about to risk the lives--"

A hand lifted up, cut him short. Elder Drume stood quietly for a moment, emphasizing the importance of his decision. "I do believe you, Chancellor," he conceded. He then looked to each of the Council members, exchanged briefs nods, had a conversation without words.

"It is then agreed," he began. "You shall go collect your initiate, and others like you if you can locate them, and defeat this Shadowbringer. You shall do so with haste and secrecy, there is no need to cause alarm if not needed."

Marcus nodded. No one could find out what he was up to. The girl had been hidden for a reason. If anyone without a mind shield knew who or what she was, their thoughts alone could send her essence straight to Ivar, if he was indeed still alive, who could then compel a Bringer to search her out. If Marcus could reach his initiate, get her to Bolster city, complete the ritual with Lucinde and the scroll, there may be a chance they could defeat Ivar before he raised another army.

"It is promised, my Lords."

"Then you have my leave to go," Elder Drume continued. "Be steadfast, Master Thane, be vigilant. Do not sway in uncertainty, walk with the Light."

"I will walk with the Light." Marcus bowed, turned and made his way out the Grand Chamber and towards the stables. There was no need to wait for morning.