They handed me a black robe and a silver mask. They wanted us to pretend.
We walked through the temple doors, each choosing our allegiance. I picked Ice. It felt right.
Inside, I found a brazier burning with a strange, unnatural flame. A woman knelt before it, praying. She told me to wait, so I did. Patience is a skill, same as any strike or throw. I watched the room, listened. Learned.
We needed a key. The cults had them. First, the Children of the Suffocating Ooze. Then the Children of Splintered Ice. We fought, and we won. The way is open now.
Ahead lies a portal. A summoning. A thing greater than a dragon, greater than Wastri’s ooze.
We step through soon.
I do not know if we will step back.