It was difficult to keep one’s thoughts away from the world. Forever they seemed to linger.

   Nero struggled to recall when Midworld was functioning, even without the undead tearing its people apart. The Civilian Empire was notorious for allowing people to ruin themselves. Had it ever been more than a trap for mankind, vices like a treat for a beast luring men and women to lives of unfulfilled hopes and dreams? There was no sudden, horrid snap of a pair of iron jaws. No, the process of the falling victim was much slower. Nero had seen it happen.

   A knock on the door interrupted his meditation. No, not meditation. It was more so pondering. His mind hasn’t been clear since he was but a young man, but that was a time long since gone. A dozen lifetimes’ worth of experience has ensured that his mortal mind achieves no rest, no matter the state of his ageless body.

   Another knock was heard, this one more urgent.

   Nero sighed, realizing he had never answered the door. He stood, his footsteps making no sound on the silk rug, but padding closer to the door once he reached the wooden floorboards farther from his place of meditation. Opening the door, Nero laid eyes upon a shaken young man with bright blue eyes, dressed in light armor plating and wearing a scout’s hood. Something about the young man reminded Nero of himself. This fellow could have been no older than a fourth of his age. His skin was not yet entirely pale like Nero’s.

   “War Paragon Albas,” said the young man, his voice trembling. “There is a horde on its way. A-A very large one. Our orders at the gate were to inform you immediately, it is of utmost importance.”

   “Easy, scout,” Nero responded, at last, having heard enough of what the young man had to say. “Are you sure this report wasn’t meant for Commander Luto? He commands the warriors, not I.”

   “Yes, it was meant for you. In fact, Commander Luto insisted himself that I took this news to you!”

   Just as Nero was going to give a reply, the gentle hum and radiant warmth of a magical presence behind him made him balk. He felt a shiver down his spine, and he saw the scout dart away at the sight of the presence behind him.

   “War Paragon Nero Albas,” spoke a feminine yet ethereal voice. “Please, turn to me.”

   Nero turned slowly, peering over his shoulder and recognizing the depiction of Midworld’s guardian: Lady Terrae. As ancient as Midworld itself. This was not the first time they had spoken. The Lady of the Wood spoke through the wind to him on previous occasions. This was the first time he bore witness to her. With a respectful bow of his head, Nero took the time to adjust his eyes to her luminescence, but it was easier with the hooded robe she had draped over her form. It was said that her presence glowed like the skies of dawn. It had been too long since he’d seen anything more than grey clouds in Midworld’s skies. Her skin was like the underside of a violet leaf, and her eyes as bright as the glow of the Golden City’s midday sun.

   “Lady Terrae,” he began. “It is an honor to meet you in person.”

   She smiled gently at him. “I too feel honored by your presence.” Her smile faded and with it a part of her glow. “But as honored as we are, there are pressing matters to discuss.”

   “Is it of an undead horde, by chance?” Nero inquired. “A scout reported to me mere moments ago.”

   “Yes. But this is no ordinary undead horde. Paragon Albas, if I may, the horde is being led by a powerful source of magic.” She paused momentarily, her brow knitting in concern. “I could not investigate for myself. You must prepare for it. I offer to you what little I can provide in this tundra: my blessing.”

   “Lady Terrae, with nothing but respect, we have no need for any assistance from you. The Cicean Society has fended off the likes of a Destroyer. We will outlast the dead.”

   She smiled, her glow intensifying by a small amount. “Is everyone in your Society so brave, Paragon Albas?”

   Nero nodded curtly. “Yes. I am confident in such, Lady Terrae. We can, and will, defend ourselves.”

   “Then it is luck I wish to you and your society. May the tides of nature guide you eternally, Nero Albas. Farewell.” She bowed her head to him.

   Nero returned the bow. “Farewell to you, Lady Terrae.”

   She then slowly faded into the candlelight of the room. Nero’s eyes once again needed time to adjust to the lack of Lady Terrae’s luminescence. The warmth of her presence was gone, followed by the chill of the tundra forever present in the air.

   “Paragon Albas, I felt a disturbance here,” said Nero’s apprentice, Mynerva from the doorway. She stood there with her arms crossed, her icy blue eyes directing their gaze on him. “Is everything alright?”

   Nero nodded. “Of course. I was visited by Lady Terrae.”

   Mynerva raised her pale eyebrows, tilting her head to the side. “The Lady of the Wood herself? I would call you insane, Paragon, but I know better. That head on your shoulders isn’t prone to manipulation.”

   “No mind is immune to manipulation,” Nero explained. “But there is no use in reteaching old lectures. There is a horde arriving, one with a great source of magic in its wake.”

   Her eyes widened. “Commander Luto and the other Paragons need to know of this right away, Paragon. This is unprecedented.”

   “Commander Luto already knows, but I cannot be sure if the Paragons do. I will speak with Commander Luto. Warn the other Paragons.”

   Mynerva nodded. “Take care, Paragon.”

   “As do you, Apprentice.”

   They bowed their heads to each other before going their separate ways. The grounds of the Cicean Society were beautiful in their glory days. Snow trickled from the sky above, luminescent trees standing tall and flowers blooming from the frosted ground. Now, with the presence of constant grey clouds, the frostblooms had all long since perished. The ice trees were gnarled husks. The land had forgotten the feeling of the sun. Apart from the Society, the tundra was dead.

   The streets of the Society’s grounds were quiet, yet occupied. Robed elders and initiates walked side by side, guardsmen standing at every corner of every street. From the streets, the looming figure of the Paragon Temple from the side of the sacred Cicean Mountain watched over them all with its towering columns and ancient engravings. For thousands of years, the Society called the foot of this mountain home. Nero wasn’t going to give it up without a fight.

   Nero reached the command building, a tower that loomed over all but the temple and mountain above. This is where the commander resided. Walking through its halls again made him ponder on his time as commander. That was back when the most they had to fear was an invading coterie of bandits or the occasional mimic making it into the grounds from trading caravans. Commander Luto was handling these times better than Nero ever could during his time as commander.

   After climbing up many steps and going through many halls, Commander Luto came into his view at last, standing and gazing through one of the ice-coated windows. He was reading something, and seemed entranced with it until he finally noticed Nero. He turned to face Nero, and he cocked his brow. “Did I not tell that boy to take the word to you?”

   “Yes, Commander. I wish to speak of it with you. There is something you do not know,” Nero began.

   “That you spoke to someone?” Luto asked. “Or something? I heard the boy screaming all the way to the other Paragons. He was sure you were making deals with a devil, I would bet.”

   “By the frosts, no! That was Lady Terrae I spoke with. She warned me of a magical presence with the horde. This attack is of no natural origin,” Nero explained.

   “Is that so?” Luto uttered, cocking his white brow once more.

   Nero took a step forward. “Yes. This is urgent. Why do I have the impression that you aren’t taking this seriously?”

   “There is no need to go into a maddened frenzy over this,” Luto replied. He was silent for a moment, placing his book face-down upon a table beside him. “Understand this, Paragon: the Society has stood tall for all this time against all enemies, yes? We have history on our side, but in no way am I taking this lightly because of that. I shall bolster all the soldiers we have immediately, heeding your guidance, Paragon.”

   There was a brief silence. Nero took a step back, nodding at the Commander for finally showing some sense. “Very good. I shall take this news to the Paragons with my apprentice. Frosts be with you, Commander.”

   “You too, Paragon,” Luto responded, his gaze remaining on Nero as he left with the new for the other Paragons.

   The walk up the mountain was one Nero had taken many times. The ice steps were difficult to climb for initiates, but the feet of an elder or Paragon knew them well enough to walk to the Temple with closed eyes. Nero could have done just that, but he appreciated his ability to gaze upon the Society’s grounds and beyond. That kind of beauty was unmatched in Midworld.

   Once inside the Temple, all of those within fell into silence. The other Paragons, in their thrones, Mynerva, and the young scout from earlier all fell silent and gazed upon Nero. All was silent for a few seconds, only being interrupted by Nero slowly closing the door.

   “Paragon Albas,” Mynerva began, “please convince the other Paragons of your innocence. They consider that you might be speaking with demons!”

   “Demons?” Nero looked at each of them, and he shook his head. “I haven’t the slightest of ideas where this conspiracy originated, nor do I truly care. I will tell each of you who I truly spoke with: I spoke with Lady Terrae.”

   “The Lady herself? So the apprentice speaks the truth.” one of the Paragons muttered.

   “How can this be?” another murmured. He cleared his throat, his white beard trembling with the rest of him. “The Lady had never spoken to any of the Society before.”

   “You forget where I came from, then,” Nero uttered to the other Paragons. “I didn’t wish to speak of this in front of my apprentice, but I must clear my name immediately. Do any of you remember my arrival three hundred and sixty years ago?”

   There was a pause before another Paragon spoke. "Yes. We remember. You were bloody and cold when we took you in...”

   A second Paragon picked up where the other drifted off. “We had no idea you were even imperial, you were so pale. Even now, after all these years, you have the traits of an imperial. Your hair is black, and your eyes just as dark. Cicean-born are without such colors. Our eyes and hair match the tundra's ice and snow."

   "Once an outsider, now Paragon," another Paragon added. "And communing with the Lady. The frosts have a funny way of reminding us that we are not truly self-sufficient."

   Mynerva was silent for a moment, her gaze turned to Nero. “You… are an outsider?” she murmured, almost in disbelief.

   “Were,” corrected a Paragon, the Paragon of Sorcery: Sarano Nyxus. The only one Nero learned by name. “Paragon Albas has more than earned his place in the Society. He always acts on our behalf, and we would be foolish to deny him a place here. Especially if he can commune with Midworld’s protector.”

   Mynerva took in a deep breath, letting it go and shaking her head softly. So softly, her short white hair didn’t so much as budge. “We are so talking about this later,” she uttered, her brow furrowed.

   “So be it,” Nero replied. “Talk about it we shall, but not before I inform the Paragons of the Commander’s decree.”

   “And what was that?” Paragon Nyxus asked, raising a thick and bushy eyebrow.

   “All of our defenses shall be present at the battle,” Nero informed. “The Commander and I will discuss strategy shortly after my apprentice and I have a brief conversation.” Nero shot Mynerva a look. A look she didn’t dare return. She simply crossed her arms and looked at the floor.

   “Very well,” said another Paragon. “Good luck to you all. Apprentice Valora, field scout, you are both dismissed.

   The walk back down the steps was a silent one. Mynerva walked with crossed arms, and Nero couldn’t bear to look at her. Neither of them wanted to speak to each other, but Nero couldn’t stand the silence.

   “Mynerva,” he began, but she interrupted him.

   “You lied to me,” she hissed. “You told me you were born here! You said that your black hair was because of a birth defect!”

   “Could you please cease your shouting?” Nero asked. “You must understand, it was for good reason. You associate outsiders with evil. How was I supposed to teach you if you thought of me as evil?”

   “A group of outsiders killed my parents, after all,” she reminded him, giving him a side glance. “I know you remember it.”

   Nero sighed. “I do. Not all outsiders are ruthless marauders, Mynerva. Some of them are capable of good." He paused, and he placed a hand on her shoulder. "I gave you a home after their deaths. Never have I dishonored their names, nor do I seek to replace them. You know I would have saved your parents, were I to have the chance.”

   Mynerva was silent. She looked away from him, her hands gripping her biceps. “Don’t…” She took in a shaky breath. “Don’t do that… I-I know you would have. That isn’t what this is about.”

   Nero took a step to the side and removed his hand from her shoulder, to give Mynerva some space, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him closer. “Stay here. Please,” she said softly. “Don’t leave.”

   His brow twisted in confusion, but Mynerva did not speak any more. She kept her grip on his arm all the way down the mountain, only letting go when they reached the final step. She turned and looked at him, a softer tone to her voice.

   “I will see you at the battle, Nero.”

   With that, she left, leaving Nero very confused at the base of the stair path. She called him by name, which he was far from used to. He had other things to attend to, but her odd behavior remained in the back of his mind all the way to the command building.

   A plan was painstakingly designed, but Luto seemed unwilling to take the magical presence into consideration. Nero swore to himself to devote his attention to it, whatever it was. The location of the horde was pinpointed by scouts, and the other Paragons raised the magical barrier to protect the grounds. Meanwhile, the horde was coming ever closer. A legion of corpses spanned the tundra, marching to the grounds, but the bite of frost would force their fall. Nero was at the head of the defense, with his apprentice and the Commander by his side. Confronting the horde was the least of their worries once they realized who led them.

   The sorcerer of the Underworld: Nirakran Mori. He was the source of magic behind the horde.

   With robes of crimson and a burning gaze, the sorcerer loomed over the horde and the Cicean Society's defenses, outstretching his clawed hands which contained the pure evil magicks of the Underworld. It oozed from his palms, flickering like fire, and the sorcerer smiled.

   "Your time has come, Damian Cullen. At last, the soul and flesh of the finest warrior of the Golden City will be mine."

   Nero made a blade of ice out of thin air, glaring at the sorcerer behind his helmet. "It’s Nero Albas now, and the Society is my home. I’ll have your head for endangering it, hellspawn."

   "Foolish, you are. You could have been so much more in my service. I will crush you and your pathetic society." The sorcerer pointed a finger at the Society's forces, and the dead charged. “To the gore pits with them!”

   "For the Society!" Nero bellowed, other defenders yelling the same battle cry.

   The battle was bloody and destructive. Under the cover of the grey clouds, the worst of the horde, the Vessels of Decay, made their appearance. They were fast and deadly. A single touch on your skin meant your death. Nero battled through shambling corpses and Vessels alike, hacking and slashing his way to the airborne sorcerer. Outstretching his hands before him, he slid up a ramp of frost he began conjuring. 

   The sorcerer was prepared, launching a fireball at him, but Nero used a shield of ice to parry the fireball and tackle the sorcerer dozens of feet down to the snow below. On impact with the ground, Nero didn't skip a beat, landing a fierce blow to the sorcerer's head. Nirakran hissed, his robes bursting into flames. The fire licked at Nero's armor, and he immediately stood upright and conjured a weapon.

   "This will be your end!"

   The sorcerer laughed. "Try me.”

   Nero rushed him, kicking up snow with his steel boots. Nirakran brought up a barrier of fire, but Nero was undeterred. Coating himself in a layer of frost, he leapt through the fire and plunged an axe of ice into the sorcerer’s shoulder. Nirakran hissed in pain, clawing at Nero’s armor and beginning to light himself ablaze again. Nero raised his axe, ready to let it fall upon the sorcerer’s neck. Suddenly, the sorcerer was gone. In his place was Commander Luto, charred and gasping for air.

   “Stop him,” Commander Luto gasped. “He… He lied… He wants to kill the Paragons… Not make me one…”

   Commander Luto slumped in the snow, the life in his eyes vanishing entirely. Nero lowered his axe, trying to process what had just happened. The battle raged on, but the sound of the barrier coming down rang in his ears. The sorcerer couldn’t have broken the barrier… Commander Luto had done so himself. He needed to reach the Paragons, and that meant finding Mynerva.

   He found his apprentice battling a Vessel of Decay. She was fighting well, outmaneuvering the skeletal abomination and launching spears of ice at it, but Nero needed her to accompany him immediately. Nero brought an axe of ice down on the Vessel’s skull, splitting it into shards and shattering the axe.

   “Come, Mynerva! The barrier is down! The Paragons are in danger.”
   Mynerva noticed the absence of the barrier, and she nodded to Nero, shouting above the sounds of battle. “On your lead, Paragon!”

   The two of them retreated from the battlefield, rushing through the grounds and slashing through any undead they came across. Vessels of Decay gave chase, dashing on the rooftops and leaping at them from above. Spears of ice stopped them in their tracks, causing their skeletal forms to shatter on the icy streets below. On the way up the steps, the Vessels of Decay followed with ease, launching themselves up several steps at a time. Mynerva used the frost below the feet of the Vessels to freeze them in place, freezing them solid to create obstacles for the others. It bought them enough time to reach the temple and fling themselves inside, slamming the door behind them. Both of them were exhausted, but now wasn’t the time for rest: Nirakran Mori sat on the throne of the Paragon of Sorcery.

   The sorcerer laughed at them. “You are too late… Gaze upon the remains of your Paragons. Thousands of lifetimes, each lived with more wisdom than the last, gone. Ended with screams and gushing blood. How delightful...”

   Nero took a step forward, a longsword of ice forming in his hand. “You forgot one, sorcerer: me. Come down here and do battle with me.”

   The sorcerer chuckled. “That would be suicide. But since you are so eager… Come--battle your colleagues, pretender. They fight in my name!”

   The corpses of the Paragons began to rise, afflicted with the blight of undeath that plagued the rest of Midworld. Apart from one. Paragon Nyxus was frozen solid, likely by his magics that Nirakran perverted. Nero and Mynerva readied themselves for battle, engaging the undead Paragons. The undead Paragons were fast, ducking and dodging and swinging weapons made of frost. Mynerva was overpowered by three Paragons, and Nero was struggling against the rest. To make matters worse, the Vessels of Decay breached the Temple, their jaws snapping as they shrieked into the Temple.

   That was, until they all froze solid.

   “It will take more than a petty reversal gem to stop me, sorcerer!” grumbled Paragon Nyxus, who was free of his icy prison. His hands were coated with frost crystals, indicating a use of advanced frost sorcery.

   “No matter,” the sorcerer chuckled. The frozen Paragons and Vessels crumbled into dust. “These will be useful to me. Perhaps given better forms in the gore pits…” He gave a low chuckle. “Farewell, you fateful three. The Underworld is watching.” Nirakran vanished in a pillar of flame, leaving the three of them alone in the temple. 

   “Paragons,” Mynerva began, stumbling to her feet, “what happened?”

   “The sorcerer deceived one of our own,” Nyxus replied. “Commander Luto doomed us all. He wanted Nero’s place as the Paragon of War too soon.”

   Nero was silent for a moment. “He confessed to it before he perished,” he admitted. “He was burned. Tainted by the fires of the Underworld.”

   “You were right, Paragon Albas,” she murmured. “Commander Luto, of all of us, was deceived by that demon. What could become of the Society if he were War Paragon?”

   Paragon Nyxus raised a hand to her. “You are very observant, apprentice, but there are more pressing matters at hand.” He approached the door of the Temple, his robe swaying in the mountain breeze billowing inside. “The grounds have been gutted...”

   Nero and Mynerva approached the door as well, gazing down at the destruction. Fires had been lit. Corpses littered the snow and street. It was all enough to sting Nero’s eyes. The Society he worked so hard to defend for hundreds of years was gone. He was no Paragon without the Society.

   “We cannot remain here,” Nyxus continued. “We must seek out Lady Terrae immediately.”

   “But where could she be?” Mynerva asked, raising her eyebrows. “Midworld is dead.”

   “But the Outerrealms are not,” Nyxus told her, turning his gaze towards Mynerva. “The Lady must be begging its Champions to assist Midworld. None remain in Midworld to defend it, after all. Though, we cannot be sure if they will help us.”

   “We cannot reclaim Midworld and the grounds on our own,” Nero uttered. “It is our best chance.”

   Nyxus nodded. “I would have to agree.” He reached into his robe, pulling out a vial of luminescent sand. He turned and threw it upon the temple floor, the vial shattering and the sand forming into a portal. It swirled in the air, glowing and sparkling with ancient magics.

   “How did you get that?” Mynerva inquired.

   “It was a gift from a friend,” Nyxus replied. “I will explain once we find him. I have much to discuss with him.”

   And so they padded to the swirling portal, giving their beloved tundra one final glance before vanishing amongst the sand.