The town of Duskbrook lays in the shadow of a kingdom on the brink.  Tension hums in the air, as palpable as the coming storm.  The skies are heavy with dark clouds, the horizon stretching in shades of bruised purples and greys.  The scent of rain hangs faintly, mixing with the earth and the wood smoke curling from distant chimneys.

Brycen Vardell adjusts the weight of his sword, the new Paladin sigil still bright on his armor; a symbol of honor freshly bestowed.  He has trained mercilessly at the Academy in the capital for years, and finally has seen the fruits of his labor.  A slight smile tugs at his lips as he walks beside his comrades- brothers and sisters in arms from the Academy.

Their banter lessens as they draw closer to the border town, replaced by a somber quiet.  They all know what is coming, even if they haven’t spoken of it.  They were sent out to Duskbrook because of rumors that Myrvallis to the north was restless, sending in small attacks to towns all along the border.  Duskbrook’s mayor had asked the Paladins for aid, scared that they are to be the next to be attacked.  The fragile peace between Myrvallis and Durvelle is wearing thin.  Brycen can feel it in the air as they enter the town proper.  The way the townsfolk watch them- wide-eyed, wary, as if sensing something terrible on the wind.

They reach the town square just as the first drops of rain begin to fall.  Brycen’s nostrils flare as a faint, acrid scent cuts through the rain-scented air. He frowns, glancing toward the horizon, his eyes catching the ominous clouds swirling above like a slow churning cauldron. Something wasn’t right.  Aaron Quinn- the only senior Paladin among them, and even he was only two years Brycen's senior- was the first to break the silence.

“Stay sharp,” he says quietly, his voice barely audible over the low rumble of thunder.  The others nod, hands tightening on their weapons.  Brycen had fought in skirmishes before, but there is a foreboding here, something unsettling that makes his instincts prickle.

The attack comes without warning.

One moment, the square is filled with nothing but murmurs of townsfolk going about their daily business and the distant roll of thunder.  The next, the ground trembles beneath their feet.  A sharp hiss slices through the air as a heavy mist spills into the town from the north.  It swirls like smoke, dark and oily, wrapping itself around the cobblestone streets.  Brycen has only seconds to react, but in that moment he sees the horror in the eyes of the townsfolk, hears the screams as the mist closes in, suffocating, burning.

“Move!” Aaron shouts, but Brycen is already in motion, throwing himself into the fray.  He wraps a scarf around his face, and reaches for a woman who has collapsed, pulling her away from the encroaching cloud of poison, his lungs still burning as he coughs against the acrid air.  His vision blurs as he drags her to safety, then another, then another.  His training kicks in, keeping his body moving on instinct alone.

But the alchemical weapon is merciless.

His limbs grow heavy, vision dimming as the mist clings to him like a living thing.  He hears shouts from his fellow Paladins, distorted, distant.  Brycen stumbles, the world spinning as darkness crowds the edges of his mind.  The last thing he sees before he collapses is Aaron’s face, grim and determined, as he and the others fight to protect the town.

Then...nothing.

---

To the south, the village of Greystone is quiet, isolated from the brewing conflict.  Nobody would ever view such a small village as a target, so the residents live in peace.  However, news travels quickly.  Whispers of unrest at the border has reached even here.  The village is nestled nicely in a forest, and outside of the village, deep in the forest where it’s hard to find unless one knows where to go, is a small home.

Kaylin Eilaro works by candlelight in their small home, their hands deftly mixing herbs and tinctures with practiced ease.  The scent of lavender and marigold fill the air, a stark contrast to the tension that grips the land beyond the forest.  They mix potions of varying sorts, their knowledge of healing and alchemy unmatched in the village. Most are minor healing potions, traded regularly for supplies, but they always prepare a few specialized concoctions- just in case.

Kaylin wipes their hands on a cloth, the light catching the delicate features they work so hard to obscure.  In public, they are known as a female Beta. It’s a guise they’ve worn for years, perfected with every whispered cautionary tale of those who had been discovered. The cost of failure wasn’t something they allowed themself to dwell on.  But in private, in the dim light of their small home, they allow themself to exist as they truly are. It is dangerous, but necessary in order for them to feel truly alive and not just living a part.

A sudden pounding on their door shatters their quiet.  The pounding on the door shatters not only the quiet of Kaylin’s home but the stillness of the forest beyond. Outside, the trees stand tall and unyielding, their branches swaying gently in the night breeze- oblivious to the war creeping ever closer.

Kaylin’s heart leaps to their throat.  Who could that be?  Who knows that they’re here?  They stand, moving cautiously towards the entrance.  They pull a face mask up to block most of their face.  They open the door just a crack, then throw it open fully when they see Aaron standing there, his armor scorched, his face pale between the grime and blood.

“We need your help, Kay,” he rasps, barely able to stand.  “It’s my team. They’re dying,” his voice shaking, eyes wild with fear.

Kaylin’s heart sinks. Aaron’s presence means one thing- war had found them, even here, in the safety of the forest. In a single breath, they weigh their options: Should they turn him away and preserve their secret, or help him and risk everything?  But how could they refuse him, knowing what would happen if they didn’t act? Was there even a real choice here?

"Bring them inside, quickly."