“The Republic of Verona once waged a brutal war against the Traxian Empire. It was a fruitless struggle and waste of men and material as thousands clashed across both land and sea. Where the lizardfolk boasted incredible martial prowess, unmatched by any Imperial footman or marine. The island’s isolation until recent centuries have seen them lagging behind technologically. When faced with Traxian war mages casting complex spells, the Veronans suffered greatly until the entry of Abenstadt in the war. Their arrival heralded the beginning of the ‘Unending Ceasefire’ as they brought their fair share of magically inclined mercenaries to Verona’s aid, stifling Imperial ambitions. But to this day, though relations have thawed and Verona actively interacts with the nationals of Cyndralia, the war never officially ended. ”

- Professor Al’kirzath Vertils, Adventurer’s Guild Historian, “Swords on Land and Sea: When Verona Fought the Imperials”

Princess Luna wept openly in her chambers, her murky tears dripping down onto the frigid stone floor below. She clutched at her bedpost with trembling hands, her weakened body threatening to give way as her legs wobbled unsteadily. With a final wordless cry she dropped to the floor, leaning against the bed in a struggle to seek some form of comfort. Pain wracked her body as every muscle seemed to tense, her physical form beginning to decay once more.

For centuries she had remained alive through the copious use of magicks and arcane formulas. Time spent defying the natural order of things as she pushed well beyond her normal lifespan. But the years were not without its cost. Unlike her loyal praetorians who aged and mutated through the use of blood magic. She sustained herself through faith and mana alone. While her conscience was still tarnished from the past, she remained more sane than most, even while she weakened with each passing year. It was why a part of the remnants turned to her for leadership, to her for guidance, to her for a way to bring them out of the hells. I never asked for this.

Luna was tired, very tired. She had fought for so long to maintain some form of society, some form of normalcy, to keep what was left of her people alive. Disaster after disaster, calamity after calamity, all of which beset her and her flock. Through thick and thin she had stuck by them, holding stalwart against the darkness that threatened them all. And now… Luna teared up once more and didn’t even bother to wipe her eyes.

Now, the world had seemed to shift completely over the course of a year. Where her people had struggled so hard to preserved what remained after the fall of the kingdom. Pyra had simply appeared one day, flaunting her powers and presenting before her the impossible. A pureblood untainted by dark magicks, at least nothing that Luna could sense. So it was that her centuries of work crumbled before her eyes. Many of her flock left to follow her insane sister’s warpath, seeing the bloodshed as a way forward in the restoration of their peoples.

Pyra, Luna tasted the name with similar parts affections and disdain. For a long time she thought herself the only one alive. The only survivor of the slaughter and betrayal that had befallen her family. Then Pyra returned, insane, rambling and capable of possessing different hosts and bodies of the peoples of these days. At first Luna had brushed it off, simply happy to find her alive. But then Pyra began killing, ravaging every place that they explored. Her banishment brought great relief to Luna’s flock. But when Pyra returned once more after centuries of absence, she managed to steal Luna’s flock, to convince them of her way of life. And now, Luna felt defeated.

Her praetorians and survivors of the calamity protected a small settlement that had formed around the base of their mountain temple. High in the mountains, surrounded by frost, snow, and unnatural winds, they were cut off from the world but also protected. It was here that Luna had thought they could thrive, away from the Myndir and those who would hurt them. For those in the temple, they had carved deep into the mountain, unearthing pockets of heat crystals that allowed for the low level cultivation of crops and some animals within the caves themselves. Self sufficient, that’s all we ever aimed for and now… people rely on us. On me.

It started with a few tribals trying to escape orcish raiders accidentally stumbling upon their sanctum. In a moment of benevolence, she allowed them to stay. When they were finally allowed to go, she heard from later arrivals describing a palace of wonders high in the sky. A place where a Goddess resided who would tend to your ills, guarded by eagle-like sentinels of steel and silver. A thin smile crossed her lips, her eyes closing as she sought solace in the memory.

Then, over the years, more and more arrived. Outcasts, refugees, tribal pilgrims, lost folk, and even treasure hunters, drawn by the allure of a strange temple high in the mountains. Inaccessible to all but the most determined given its location and inhospitable conditions. Yet the people survived. They weren’t thriving but they lived all the same, a community of those willing to shelter under her wings. People in whom she saw a brief glimpse of a future when her and her flock could return to the world once more. Then Pyra came.

The people stayed, but many of the praetorians left. Now only the Tribune Kermenadies and her honorguard remained alongside most of the auxiliary staff. They alone were all that stayed to help her and defend the people below the temple.

With word of demons slowly breaching the treacherous mountains, her retinue had been able to keep the situation controlled for now. But with little doubt that this was the beginning of a new Dark Tide, Luna had little faith that any defences below the temple would be able to hold, even though they’ve begun training whoever they could, her people knew that the Tide would be unstoppable. And I somehow doubt there’s any saints or saintesses among us, she chuckled grimly. Maybe they’ll die well, a small mercy.

For her only other option would be to allow them access to the temple, and if they were to step foot here, the illusion would be shattered. There would be no salvation, no bountiful blessings of a forgotten Goddess or mountain spirit. They would only find a broken princess, floundering hopelessly trying to just survive. May they forgive me for giving them false hope. For nurturing their beliefs in such an unworthy soul.

Death. An unfortunate but all too common aspect that happened with life. It was also an altogether unpleasant feeling, of being interconnected with a body and feeling the life slip from its grasp. There was a certain panic at the cold hollowness that followed when one tried to use a no longer functioning limb. The fear as each organ stopped working. Then the blank nothingness before she awoke once more, trapped in her mask.

She had been left alone, half dead and unable to move. Her last moments were spent in pain and agony as the traitors took her and broke her. Only when the fighting had died down and the ruins of the city started being buried did her spirit eventually stir. Flashes of magic, rituals, and elves haunted her when she awoke. But it was too late, she had already been subsumed by the mask; a decrepit old thing that was cracked but never truly able to be broken. For untold spans of time, she would watch the world change around her. Of how nature shifted ever so slightly under her watchful gaze. Or the maddening array of creatures that crawled, stepped, and picked her up and moved her. Since then, she found herself restless, stricken with an urge to be able to move, to do anything as her mind grew tired from simply watching things.

She did not know when her mind began to slip, the unstoppable spiral of her thoughts that led her to her newfound joy. All she knew was that a bear was slaughtering a tribe of goblins when one warrior snuck past it to loot the bear’s cave. It was there it put on the mask and she felt the connection. Pyra seized the chance she was given and recoiled from the jolt as she inhabited the creature. Without even noticing, she completely broke the creature’s mind, wiping every last part of it from existence beyond its physical form. The rest became a blur, a stain on her mind as she emerged from the cave alone, goblins and bear all slain by her hands. It made her feel alive, whether it was the goblin’s rage or her own. She didn’t care.

It was the one gift she had been left with, to live and seek vengeance for her people. Only that when she had awoken, there was no one left for her to seek revenge upon. The Myndir had been wiped out, the traitors all dead by now, and everything she had ever known had simply changed as if had never been there. Vague mentions of her home appeared here and there but the people of this world no longer remembered. Her suffering had all been for naught.

It doesn’t matter now, she growled through her host’s mouth.

She stared at herself in the mirror, a strange sense of displeasure welling up as she gazed at the one legged ranger’s reflection. I don’t even remember what I look like anymore.

But there was one bright spot in her state of affairs. She had found a person stuck in a situation so similar to hers that she didn’t even need to fully shatter their mind. Whereas most of her hosts had been adventurers or errant souls stupid enough to just wear a mask that was laying around, this one was different. She was already broken, her heart torn asunder. Furthermore, the ranger was, much like Pyra herself, a former princess who had been dispossessed from her rightful holdings and kingdom. Perhaps the only difference was the ranger’s lack of ambition. Where Pyra had longed for order, for the restoration of a kingdom that was rightfully hers. The ranger merely wanted to find love, to find somewhere to belong to.

It was a pathetic way of thinking but Pyra tolerated it nonetheless. For they were able to share the body, the ranger having agreed to this all for the sake of ‘love’. Pyra loathed the concept but understood it. For she too, had been overjoyed when she first found her sister alive. Simply finding out that she was not, in fact, the last survivor of a race of peoples had brought her a a never before felt a scent of relief. Only to be immediately ostracised for trying to right the wrongs of the past, to be cast out for doing things whilst Luna and the others rotted away in their dinky little temple.

So she set out on her own, braving the harshest wilds and delving into ancient depths. It was in the ruins of a Myndiri city did she find a site that horrified and delighted her to unfathomable proportions. A mass grave of her people, executed and buried, left forgotten by the passage of time. So she rebuilt. She studied anything and everything related to the magic arts. She searched for rare tomes and magics from both cities and ruins. She hunted for treasure and trinkets, be they valueless or priceless. Everything she did in service of a far greater vengeance than she could have ever imagined, to resurrect a race and stamp over the Myndiri graves. To prove that their efforts to extinguish her people failed.

Now that, in her eyes, was a worthy goal. To right the wrongs of the past, to bring back a people wiped out too early. In her attempts to do so, she spent centuries isolated, cultivating her knowledge and honing her skills. All until she found two ancient Myndiri mages and ripped their souls back into the land of the living before consuming them utterly, making them her puppets and opening their repertoire of knowledge.

Her eyes flicked to the flap of her tent where a few armoured figures now stood. Some wore plumed helms whilst others had the somewhat pointed yet round look that she found ever so nostalgic to see. With a manic grin on her face she turned to the new arrivals. The familiar figure of castle praetorian Lyran stood there with his head bowed and she almost cackled. Perhaps with a little intervention from the ranger’s consciousness, she held back and simply walked up to them. Watching with a tinge of mirth at how the large armoured men seemed to pale at her very presence.

“Your majesty.” The praetorian hissed, almost unsure of himself.

“Cheer up.” Pyra beamed, “Whatever’s getting you down, worry not. For we’ve got a castle to take!”

“But-”

“What? Did you fail? Think that maybe I would care? Dole out a punishment?” Pyra teased.

“It would be fitting. For we failed our objectives in the ruins, we were interrupted by a stranger who wielded... simply incredible powers. And our losses-”

“I don’t give a shit!” Pyra giggled, “Did you manage to capture the stranger?"

"N-no, milady."

"Pwah, then it's really whatever, isn't it? You win some, you lose some. Look, if you and yours really want to earn your place because you feel guilty you failed, then there’s something simple you and yours can do!” She snapped her fingers.

“A-anything, your majesty.” The praetorian bowed lower, caught off guard by her childish demeanour.

“In a few hours, we will par-lay.” Pyra drawled out the words, seeing if she could get a rise out of her host. Failing that, she huffed before continuing to speak with the praetorian, “It will fail. For they have a fanatic leading them. So, then we attack. Then they die. But before they die, that fanatic is a powerful divine caster there. My own knights are weak to the light, but you are not. Kill him, that is all.”

“I… of course, my lady.” Lyran confirmed the mission alongside the other praetorians.

“Good. Good! Because, think of it this way. Once we have the town, we can begin rebuilding our kingdom. Once we begin, I will bring in my greatest creations. Together, we will become what we were always meant to be, a kingdom for the ages. A place for our people, for you, to call home.” Pyra finished, looking exceptionally pleased with herself, “Oh yes… home… a home for us all.”

“Of course.”

“And not like Luna’s! No cold frosty little dungeon here! We’ll have enough for you, me, or anyone who wants it! Now go! And get ready, because we won’t get much break time after we start.”

“At once, your majesty.” Lyran saluted with the others before heading back out.

“Oh! And welcome to the right side of the war!” She called out after them.

She found this whole saga terribly amusing. From nobody to being on the verge of not just securing a fief for herself, but to be on the cusp of giving her people a true home seemed almost too good to be true. Yet, if this were a dream, it felt oddly realistic and with her being so close to the goal, there was little that would dissuade her now, even if the ranger’s consciousness complained every once in while.

“Oh yes…” She muttered to herself, her eyes wandering back to the mirror, “How positively exquisite. And the blood we will spill… ah! Don’t worry dearie, I promise we’ll avoid what we can, but you can’t deny me this, can you? No? See! I knew we’d get along.” She cackled, “Just imagine! A little home, and a bed to fuck on for you and your little follower. Your home.”

And mine. A home for me, for us. Are you watching Luna? Are you? We'll be proper princesses once again!