Crossing the border to the great Province of Zana was not something one could do without knowing. It´s border was not a mere line on a map, a geographic feature or even a fortification. The very land itself bore the mark of Zana.

The ground was grey and lifeless where Zana began. The land of the Judge and the Reaper was one defiant of everything that was not it. It resembled a mangled corpse, with deep ravines and pits dotting the landscapes like gruesome wounds. It had bled out long ago, whatever rivers still ran through the land were of a sickening black and brown colour, the desperate drank from them not in hopes of survival, but to put an end to their flailing lives.

Zana was a land of the strong, and the dead. Those were the only two kinds of existences that could thrive here. The living resided in the three great cities: Termina, the city of the Reaper, Dogmata, the seat of the Judge, and Lahmia, the black city, capital of Zana.

The black city was a symbol, a mirror of the greater province as a whole. It´s buildings did not reach to the sky, instead the Zanaan dug deep into the earth. The land around the city core was torn and split by ravines that brought a few merciful glimpses of sunlight to the lower levels of the city.

The "Purity" docked at it´s own tower, the large structure had been built solely to carry and house the large vessel. The crows departed the ship, in one thick cloud they flew toward the guardians´ headquarters close to the city centre.

When Serafin departed the "Purity", she was greeted by a familiar figure.

A short woman, dressed in an impeccable black dress that drew further attention to her ghostly pale skin and hair, and the pure red of her eyes.

"Viviane, it is so good to see you."

Serafin took the last two steps separating them in one and pulled the ivory in for a tight embrace. It did not bother the paladin that the ivory took a moment to return the gesture, or how icy cold her body was. Or how Marion was not breathing.

"The pleasure is mine, lady Serafin." Marion´s voice was as soft and elegant as it was void of emotion. "Her highness has asked me to require your presence at court before you make your visit to headquarters."

Serafin took a step back and was about to protest, but Marion cut her off.

"Lady Marion has already informed your superiors of this, and would like to inform you that the matter is one of great importance to Zana. Please, if you would."

A summoning by the Sovereign of Zana herself even a paladin could hardly ignore, and last of all Serafin. She even relaxed a little while following Viviane down the tower and onto the streets of Lahmia. It was good to be home.

Many outsiders called Lahmia the 'labyrinth of the dead', for it´s chaotic and arcane structure. The surface streets were a thin facade of order, where the non-Zanaan resided. Merchants from other provinces, dignitaries, students of the arts only taught here.

It was when they descended into the innards of Lahmia that the madness of the city revealed itself.

Endless tunnels, barely lit, seemed to go on for eternity. Every now and then they crossed or split, usually ending in large dug out caverns deep below the rock. One was hard pressed to find the imperial architecture down here, instead the homes and houses were either reclaimed ruins, or built close to resembling the style of whatever remnants had been dug up.

Signs were few, and rumour went that anyone attempting to create a full and comprehensive map of Lahmia was fated to go mad before ever finishing even the first three layers, that the Sovereign herself had those killed who attempted it so that only she could know.

Some tunnels were cut into the sides of the ravines, giving a semblance of fresh air and sunlight, illuminating the sprawling city deep below, the few fires that they could see in the dark that swallowed the ground.

They were relatively alone on their journey downward to the fourth level, the only people they crossed had long stopped being people in the traditional sense.

Their skin was pale, some had no skin at all, covering their skeletal bodies in armour or clothes. And many did not even have bodies anymore. They patrolled the tunnels and halls as hollow suits of armour, a faint purple glimmer beyond their visors the only sign of life that remained in them.

Death was not an end in Zana, it was another door. The guilty, the convicted, the traitors could not hope to escape the Judge through death. Branded with a death seal, their souls remained among the living, in whatever shape that was required.

It was the dead who dug deeper into the earth, under the watchful eyes of the disciples of the Reaper and the Judge. The dead who built the great undertowers and monuments to heroes of years past.

And it was the dead who marched to war so the living did not have to. Not all were forced and condemned. To many it was an honour to continue serving after their bodies had given up, to ensure a better life for those who they had left behind.

Their path ended at a large cavern, it alone the size of a small city. Only a single structure stood in it´s centre, a pyramid carved entirely out of pitch black stone. Before it´s gates stood the lumbering corpses of giants, the flickering of their undying fire betraying their life.

They had reached the palace of the Sovereign Viceroy of Zana, the lair of the spider lady.

Serafin knew this place as much as the rest of Lahmia, she was able to overtake Vivian as they walked through the quiet halls within, all the way to the throne room.

A single white light shone from the ceiling, bathing the room and it´s pillars in a mesmerising play of shadows. At the other end of the hall, sat atop a massive black throne, was the sovereign.

Her body moved with an elegance that was at once sickening and captivating. Every inch of her skin was hidden under a pale white silk, her dress flowing mere inches above the ground. A long veil hid her face as she reached out her arm to point at Serafin.

The paladin sunk to her knees.

"You are late." The Sovereign´s voice was little more than a whisper, yet it echoed in Serafin´s ears as if the lady spoke right into it.

"I apologise, your highness." Serafin looked up, unable to take her eyes off her Sovereign.

"I have been informed of your actions at Castrum El Cynthia. You have caused quite a stirr, Serafin. The magisters seem unsure whether to have you promoted, or hung."

"Whichever the high council decides shall be my fate, your highness. I submit to their wisdom."

"Pah. Foolish girl. You ought to think more highly of yourself. I would not have my investment in you turned to naught because you lack any instinct of self-preservation."

The words of the sovereign were a whip, and Serafin winced in pain.

"A Stipendium at the academy, a personal instructor, the dignity of my name and the very clothes you are wearing under that damn cloak of yours, Serafin. You would do well to remember who gave you all of this, and to treasure it more dearly."

Compared to the lady´s tirade, the gallows began to feel like a less uncomfortable alternative.

"Forgive me, your highness. I did not mean to disrespect all you have done for me, truly. I would be just another orphan on the streets were it not for you, I could never forget it."

The weight pushing down on Serafin grew weaker, the paladin slowly struggled back to her feet.

"Good. The gallows are completely unreasonable a fate for you, and the high council will soon see the same, I will assure that. Your path is a very different one, that is why I have called you here."

The lady returned to her throne and snapped her fingers. Two ivories stepped out of the shadows with a large map of the northern empire and the lands beyond. They laid it out on the ground and returned to the shadows of the pillars.

The lady rolled her neck with a loud crack before tapping her fingers on the arms of her throne, the noise echoing through the dark hall.

"El Cynthia is the last straw. Elias may continue his blind policy of negotiations with the inhuman, but his castrum being invaded and burned to the ground is the deathknell to that ideal. He has failed, and where Atal disappoints, Zana will show it´s worth once more."

Once more she pointed at Serafin, though the paladin was allowed to remain on her feet this time.

"I have send word to Mhall for support from Sovereign Zinoven. Together we will build up a force to send against the High hills, to show these backwater savages the cost of interfering with the empire. Of course, no Mhall force would accept a Zanaan commander, and Zinoven will command my people only over my dead body. This would require a neutral force, with the rank and authority necessary to take command, and who has displayed sufficient bravery and loyalty to be given the title of outrider."

Though Serafin could not see it, she could hear the lady´s smile through her words.

"Someone like you, Serafin. You will scourge the savages for their insolence, wash your name in the blood of our foes, and return to your post a redeemed hero of the empire. I expect a great success from you."

The paladin was at a loss for words, her thoughts moved too quickly for her to get a hold of them.

"I thank you, your highness, for your trust. I will give it my all to be worthy of it!" She reached for her sabre, drew it and placed the tip on the ground as she knelt down.

"I will return in triumph, or in death."

The sound of the slap echoed around the pillars. Serafin reached her hand up, her eyes wide open as she felt the red hand mark across her cheek. The voice of the sovereign rung in her ears.

"Did I not make myself clear earlier? Leave the suicidal charges to the Mhall or those Cireian lunatics. A Zanaan commander only gives their life when it furthers the cause. And you are much more valuable to the empire alive. Tataya!"

Out of the dark stepped a pale woman clad in black. She was much shorter than Serafin, and clung to her staff for support. The dark rings under her eyes were the only real colour in her face, save for her bright green eyes.

The sovereign crossed her arms and sighed.

"Tataya is my most promising student, she will accompany you on your task and serve as your adviser. Her words are mine, so make sure to heed them. And she will drag you back here, by the hair if necessary."

With a dismissive wave the doors behind them opened. "We will speak more after your trial has ended, it would be a shame for you to miss it, no? I think we have kept them waiting long enough."

Serafin staggered back to her feet, her cheek still stinging from the hit.

"Yes, your highness. I thank you."

The lady did not answer. Serafin departed the hall in silence, followed by the limping Tataya. Behind them the doors closed, leaving the lady alone with her ivory servant.

"The more you seek to keep them alive, the more they desire to die."

Lady Marion scoffed, and slowly rose from her throne.

"But as much as you may try, you will not meet the Reaper while I still draw breath. I promise you that."