People who were born with a keen sense of sight, hearing, touch, smell or taste. Half of all people born in Saencila are born as an adept in one of the five senses. As an adept one of their senses is heighten beyond what normal people are born with. Usually this heightening comes with an additional kink which varies from person to person. For example, an adept in sight may be able to see heat, while another sight adept may have the ability to see colors unseen to the normal eye.

The Nation of Smell farms spices, and produces the world's greatest soaps and perfumes. They are very big on gardening and having vegetation growing throughout their cities. The plants are bred to create a pleasant fragrance which they use to enhance the smell of their cities and towns. They are also a very clean people. Their nation has a big trade deal with the nation of Taste in spices. In return they receive exotic foods and meats.

The Nation of Taste is located in the most fertile location on Saencila. Its a perfect location for farming and as such the majority of their nation is covered in farms. They produce an overabundance of food which is traded in other countries. Their food products are top quality which the locals attribute to magic produced by their land. One might think their country is prone to attacks due to their good fortune. Well they would be if it were not for the mountain range which protects their country from others. The Nation is most known for their talent in producing savory dishes and delectable desserts.

The Nation of Hearing is a pacifist nation, full of the land's greatest scholars, schools, and of course musicians. Politicking is big here. The more educated a person is here, the more respected they are in the eyes of their peers. The cutting edge of science occurs here. They have produced fireworks, spyglasses, spectacles, and are on the verge of creating printing devices. Musicians and playwrights are also well respected here. Particularly the more talented ones.

The Nation of Touch is known for their craftsmanship. Their architecture is a work of art, their weapons are the best in the land, and they create the best clothing, tools and furniture. Their land is abundant with metals and as such there are many mines through out their lands. Their nation currently has the strongest army and is at war with the Nation of Sight.

The Nation of Sight is where the story will begin. This nation is currently losing a war with the Nation of Touch. They are known for their artists, their paints, their dyes, their fashion, and quality pens. Unfortunately, being a Nation of Art makes for a poor nation, although their food dyes are valued by the Nation of Taste. The Nation of Touch was once a valuable trade partner with the Nation of Sight as craftsmen valued their dyes and paints. Relations, however, have obviously faded and since then the nation has been struggling economically. In the far reaches of this Nation lies the Cult of Insight. The cult has been isolated to a few towns for as long as anyone can remember.

Dark forces, once great and honorable people, sacrificed to prevent an ancient evil from destroying the world. They were broken, corrupted, and twisted until they surrendered to the Evil’s will. Discarding their very essence and being, they have now been transformed into great and horrible forces of power whose very presence distorts and corrupts the physical world as well as the mental state of all people within their presence. They seek only to corrupt and destroy in accordance to the Evil’s bidding.

Each of The Discarded embodies and corrupts one of the five holy senses belonging to mankind. Sight, touch, smell, taste, and hearing. The corruption of the five senses is done normally in the form of torture. People who stay in the presence of The Discarded will frequently break down. It is in these moments of brokenness that peoples' minds become vulnerable to The Discarded. Whispered promises to end the suffering. These broken people will discard their afflicted sense and give it to The Discarded. The price for the end to their suffering? The loss of their mind, will, and humanity. Forever to be slaves to The Discarded.

Title: The Root of Insight

Arguably one of the most dangerous of The Discarded, Vi’daerus is the only active Discarded at this time. His presence causes many strange world altering effects. The sky becomes as dark as night during the day and turns shades of purple at night. The sun will begin to rise from the North, shining an eerie green, and will alternate from setting in the East to the West. Fire will emit black flames while strangely still giving off the same orange glow. Shadows, of the living, will lean towards sources of light, reaching yet never touching the source. The ripples in a pool of water will move towards the source of disturbance on the water's surface. Everyday objects, such as barrels, pots or forks, will change shades of color and slightly shift positions when nobody is looking. And some people will even foresee their deaths minutes before the event actually occurs.

Vi’daerus's effects on the surrounding world differs from other Discarded. Where the other Discarded's world altering presence is used as a way to torture people to the point of breaking and submission, Vi'daerus's world altering presence may be unsettling, but is actually quite livable. What makes Vi'daerus dangerous is not how he alters the world around him, but rather the hordes of faithful followers his presence creates, even among those who haven't submitted to Vi'daerus's will. Where other Discarded torture their victims, Vi'daerus will instead seduce them into submission with his "gift" of Insight.

Insight is a side effect of Vi'daerus's "omniscience". Vi'daerus sees all things covered in shadow. He sees what has been, what is and even glimpses of what has yet to come. His sight is flawed, however. Things touched by light are hidden to Vi'daerus. Vi'daerus cannot read messages written by hand. His foresight is also not always correct and he is unable to see into the distant future. Vi'daerus's sight on the world around him bleeds from his being and onto those in his presence. It is these glimpses of knowledge that his followers have termed as Insight.

Under normal circumstances, Insight will first come as dreams to people, touched by Vi'daerus's essence, so long as they are sleeping in shadow. The visions these dreams grant are intoxicating and often in some way personal. It will show people visions of friends who have betrayed them as well as horrible dark secrets about the people a person trusts and loves. When a person wakes from there slumber, they are left with the strange yet undeniable feeling that what they saw in their dreams was true, and it did happen. Many people feel compelled to act on their dreams. Others are a touch more hesitant. All people, however, feel a loss of euphoria upon waking and are left with a silent itch for additional glimpses of Insight.

As a person is granted more glimpses of Insight they become addicted. They become more aware of Vi'daerus's presence gripping their soul. Initially unnerving, yet euphoric at the same time. The visions begin to occur while the person is awake, showing not only the past and present, but even glimpses of the future. These future glimpses show people a path toward obtaining their desire. Often these future glimpses show people dark methods to obtain their goals, such harming others mentally and/or physically. At this point in the process, a person's mind has been corrupted by the Insight. Hurting others to obtain one's goals starts to seem logical and make sense. It doesn't take long from here for people to begin acting on the visions and in doing so corrupting the person's mind further.

Before long a person's personal goals begins to shift towards coinciding with Vi'daerus's goals. The spread of his essence and influence. They begin to worship Vi'daerus as their god. They do his bidding even if it puts their lives at risk. These people make up Vi'daerus's followers, The Cult of Insight. The Cult of Insight is a name commonly used by most people living in Saencila to refer to the cult. The cult members, however, prefer the name The Clan of Insight. There are two levels of hierarchy in the cult. The bottom level is composed of the common followers, people whose goals have begun to shift towards conforming to Vi'daerus's goals. Then there is the top level. The Sightless. People who have clawed out their eyes, discarding their sense of sight according to Vi'daerus's will.

The Sightless are the most dangerous of Vi'daerus's followers. They have allowed Vi'daerus's root to seep into their soul, and by doing so are forever transformed. Shortly after, discarding their sense of sight, The Sightless begin to grow a black protective treelike bark across their body. Slowly it replaces their skin until it covers their entire body. The Sightless, do not see light. Instead they see darkness and the wisps of life. They emit a field of shade that cannot be penetrated by light. They are also capable of seeing glimpses of Insight whenever they want, coming directly from Vi'daerus, and can gift the Insight to people so long as the person is willing. Their limbs are living plant mass that can grow at will and attack others from afar. Out of all their abilities, their most important use for Vi'daerus is their ability to spread his essence.

There are two reasons why Vi'daerus is arguably the most dangerous Discarded. The first reason is his cult of devoted followers. The second is his ability to spread his range of influence beyond his core. Vi'daerus's Sightless are capable of planting seeds which spreads Vi'daerus's essence beyond his current location. However, oddly, these seeds will not grow without permission from the designated "owner" for the land the seed is planted. Though, if allow to grow, the seed will plant its roots into the land and spread Vi'daerus's world altering essence. When grown these seeds are often guarded. The seeds can be destroyed, but a fair bit of warning, they will fight back.

Title: The Mother of Unbirth

When within Ta’Nigarie’s proximity, the natural properties of the world no longer act as they should. Brushing one’s hand through water feels like moving one’s hand through tiny oily metal beads instead of its natural wet liquid feeling. Wood becomes claylike. Soft and Malleable to the touch, conforming to the shape whatever is touching it, reform back to its original shape when left alone. Wind becomes hot and feels like the prickling of a thousand needle tips against one’s bare skin. The ground becomes springy. Mud like quicksand. Stone turns flaky and brittle. Metal acts like glass while glass acts like metal. Fire cold to the touch yet still able to burn that which it touches. And the weather goes back and forth between sweltering heat and freezing cold within minutes. One cannot be too careful within Ta’Nigarie’s presence, for her very being alters the world.

Ta’Nigarie’s presence does more than alter the world. Her presence also affects the mind and body. When under Ta’Nigarie’s influence, a person’s positive emotions are dampened while the negative emotions are amplified. Mother’s become inattentive, fathers turn abusive, and children act delinquent. In addition to the mind altering effects is the unfading pain. Ta’Nigarie’s presence amplifies any pain that a person feels. Additionally her presence induces pain on the joints and muscles of anybody who moves. All pain felt in Ta’Nigarie’s presence lingers even after the body fully heals. And due to the world altering properties of Ta’Nigarie’s presence, injury to even the most careful of people is not uncommon.

The dampening on a person’s mind increases if a person is trying to escape Ta’Nigarie’s influence. It dulls the mind causing people to forget they are trying escape. It further emphasizes the person’s pain in hopes of breaking the person to the point of collapse. Escape is possible but requires a struggle. Those who stay eventually break to the pain discarding their sense of touch and any ability to feel to their tormentor, Ta’Nigarie. In doing so, they give birth to one of Ta’Nigarie’s “children”, The Unbirth.

The moment a person submits to Ta’Nigarie, that person is compelled to seek out her core, a mass of blue pulsing flesh. Once at her core, Ta’Nigarie’s mass of flesh will devour the ones who submitted to her will, and spit out a child sized cocoon of ice cold blue flesh. It’s from these cocoons that The Unbirth emerge. Gender-less, child sized, monstrosities that sap the heat from everything around them.

The Unbirth share facial similarities with the people who gave birth to them. Their skin is blue and taunt with pulsing blood vessels extruding from the skin. Their hands and fingers are long and bony with and iron strong grip to boot. Their claws and teeth razor sharp and ideal for slicing through flesh. Their necks protrude below their shoulder and from their chest creating a V shaped indentation from shoulder to shoulder. Their heads are rotated upside-down. Hair dangling from their scalps. Faces gaunt. Eyes enlarged with oval shaped irises. Pupils the color of red.

The Unbirth perform their Mother’s bidding. Unfeeling and uncaring. The Unbirth are great at climbing and should always be avoided if possible. Killing one of them will cause them to release a blood chilling screech alerting their siblings to a person’s presence. They like to attack in hordes and will not stop attacking until the last of them are dead.

Title: Bringer of Pestilence

The most obvious indicator of being in Ol’Falkaer’s presence is the smell. His presence taints normally pleasant fragrances into smelling off while already horrible smells become more pungent and overwhelming. Flowers will smell slightly foul. Soaps and perfumes will smell nauseating. Fresh Fruits overripe, and cooked meats a touch rotten or sour. Although this may seem tolerable, truth the stink is constant and nausea inducing. It is not uncommon to lose one’s breakfast when encountering Ol’Falkaer’s stink for the first time. That said, the smell is the least of one’s worry when shrouded in Ol’Falkaer’s essence.

The smell is just the immediate effect caused by Ol’Falkaer’s presence. Shortly thereafter comes The Taint. The Taint effects all living and nonliving things ensnared in Ol’Falkaer’s grip, causing the spread of grime, rot and disease. The grime comes first, quickly covering everything. Bathing becomes pointless and cleaning an impossibility. The rot shortly follows, causing fresh foods to spoil and fabrics to fade and decay. Fresh food and non-ragged clothing becomes a rare community horded by the rich and inaccessible to the poor. Last comes the outbreak of disease weaken those inflicted.

All who stay too long in Ol’Falkaer’s presence eventually catch The Taint. Its symptoms are forever influx. An infected may suffer from fever one moment, to fits of coughing, to chills, to sore muscles and then back to a fever again all within 10 minutes. The Taint does not kill, at least not directly, for the dead are of no use to Ol’Falkaer. The dead cannot give themselves to him and discard their sense of smell. The purpose of The Taint is to break people down and make them too weak to escape Ol’Falkaer’s influence. Those who break before Ol’Falkaer’s will, discard their sense of smell and become one of The Tainted.

The Tainted are those who have completely succumbed to The Tainted. On first appearance, those who have succumbed to Ol’Falkaer’s will seem no different than the average person who has no choice but to live among the grime and filth brought by Ol’Falkaer’s presence. After a closer look, however, one might notice a few things off. For one, they no longer care about cleanliness. Caked in filth and grime, wearing only what can barely even be considered rags for clothes, The Tainted seem to relish in filth. Their teeth are rotten brown with gums that bleed a blackish red goop. Their hair is unkempt and oily. Their nails grown long and yellow, looking chipped at the ends. The real tell though is their smell. The smell of rot and death.

The Tainted are hot to the touch. Forever feverish, forever sickly. They are Ol’Falkaer’s tools. Contaminators who help spread The Taint. By succumbing to Ol’Falkaer’s will, they have been internally transformed forever. The Tainted are no longer bound by what one would consider normal joint movement. Their joints are flexible, reversible, and will rotate however The Tainted desires. When running, The Tainted will run on all fours conforming their joints to work similar to a canine’s. This allows them to run at greater speeds and jump greater distances.

Their irregular movements makes combat between them unpredictable and dangerous. When bleeding, the bleed a blackish red goop which is corrupted by The Taint. If the blood gets on the skin, it will seep into the bloodstream and act as a beacon. This allows the Tainted to track a person from miles away. They’ll track people relentlessly until The Taint is purged from a person’s system or until The Tainted succeed in hunting their prey down and killing them.

Title: Endower of The Famished

Gu’Sturrael's presence distorts the taste of all things within his vicinity. All foods and drinks become bland, extremely bitter, and near impossible to swallow without wanting to vomit. Nonfood items such as dirt, rotten meat, and human waste suddenly becomes, by comparison, more edible. As one might imagine, cities inflicted with Gu’Sturrael's presence quickly find their populations famished, dehydrated and malnourished, as many people find it very difficult to swallow or drink the necessary substance and fluid to maintain bodily functions.

Unlike most other Discarded, Gu’Sturrael does not put in much of an effort prevent people, who have been in his presence, from running away. Fact is he does not need to stop them. Simply being within his presence implants a seed of his essence into a person's mind. With the seed of his essence implanted, running away from Gu’Sturrael does not grant one immediate relief from his influence on taste. The effects will last for three days at least. More than long enough to break a person down, especially if they are already famished.

Those who begin to break from the hunger and thirst, open their minds to Gu’Sturrael's sweet whispers promising release. "Discard your taste," he whispers, "and it will all go away. Give your taste to me, and I'll serve you the entire world as your plate." Submitting to the whispers binds a person forever to Gu’Sturrael's essence and allows the seed he implanted to being its growth.

Submitting to Gu’Sturrael's will begins a gradual transformation into one of Gu’Sturrael's minions; monstrosities known as The Famished. Initially everything seems normal with two exceptions. The first of which, is the insatiable feeling of hunger. The second of course is the lack of taste. The hunger is manageable at first and can be satisfied with six meals a day. Gradually, as the hunger grows, The Famish find themselves needing to eat more and more often.

Before long, The Famished will start eating things that one would not normally eat. They will grab chunks of dirt off the ground and stuff it into their mouths. They will devour spoiled milk, rotten meat, cockroaches, and even living rats. The eat nonstop, tears pouring from their eyes, crying happily about how good what they are eating tastes despite their inability to even sense taste. Cries such as "Sooo good... sooo good..." will often be heard in-between mouthfuls of trash and the joyful sobs of The Famished.

Before too long, The Famished begin the next stage of their transformation. Their arms, jaws, hands and fingers begin to elongate. Their fingernails and teeth fall out and are replaced by claws and razor sharp teeth. Their backs become hunched, their saliva slightly acidic. Any remaining body fat remaining on The Famished is burned away to nothing, leaving only skin and bone. It is during this transformation The Famished become far more dangerous. They start biting chunks out of wood, stone, clay pots and, before long, people. People quickly become their favorite meal, particularly people who show little signs of succumbing to Gu’Sturrael's will.

Gu’Sturrael likes to keep his full-fledged Famished close at hand, hidden and away from the normal populace in order to keep the knowledge of what becomes of those who submit to a minimal. He will only let a few loose at a time, often at night, to do his bidding. The Famished who have yet to undergo their transformation he allows to wander the streets of whatever town or city he is currently inhabiting. They are used as his "town criers", so to speak, often putting on displays and shows of what submission to Gu’Sturrael's will has to offer.

Title: The Reaper of Anguish

Out of all of The Discarded Au’Diurale is by far the cruelest. She revels in the torturing and suffering of the unfortunate people she ensnares in her essence. Her very presence creates a high pitched painful ringing in the ears, which will erratically change frequency making it impossible for people to get used to it and cast aside as white noise. The ringing cannot be ignored. Covering one's ears will only block out the ringing slightly but not enough to block out the pain. Earplugs made of wax have been shown to block out the majority of the pain, but they do not block out the sound.

Finding sleep in her area of affect is near impossible. Whenever someone is on the verge of drifting off, the ringing will bore into a person’s mind quickly waking him/her. People suffering from her presence for a few days or less, will quickly become irritable and violent. Staying for longer than a few days often causes people, who have yet to submit to her will, to inflict bodily harm in hopes that the new pain will overcome the pain caused by the constant ringing. Many will bang their head against nearby walls, claw at their ears, break their fingers, tear off their nails, or worse. Despite their efforts, inflicting bodily harm only makes the ringing worst.

People trapped in Au’Diurale's presence find leaving or even committing suicide to escape near impossible. As whenever someone tries to do one of the two in order to escape, the ringing becomes so unbearably painful that it will often cause loss of balance. Only those who have help, those who have only been in Au’Diurale's presence for a short time, those with wax earplugs or those with extremely strong will are capable of escape/suicide.

The constant ringing isn't the only effect of Au’Diurale's presence. Every sound heard within her field of affect becomes twisted and wrong. The singing of birds becomes an ear piercing screech. The rubbing of wood against wood sounds like nails on a chalk board. Music turns to noise and even the soft sound of footsteps becomes a reverberating thud. Oddly enough the sound of one's voice remains unchanged, with the exception of the erratically rhythmed reverse echoes of the speaker's voice, which begins a half second before the speaker begins to speak. All of it is very disorienting and gives an immense sense of wrongness. It's enough to give chills to even the bravest of people.

Those who break and discard their hearing before Au’Diurale's will, must do so by piercing their ear drums, one by one, with a metal nail. Doing so submits one to Au’Diurale and forever opens their mind to her essence. These people become a part of her army of servants known as the Silent Ones. The Silent Ones sole purpose is to obey her every command and unleash torture and anguish upon those who have yet to submit. Forever are they deaf to cries of mercy to those they bring harm. They are her voiceless soldiers, her silent assassins, her quiet executioners. They say there is a way to tell if someone has submitted to the will of Au’Diurale. Every sound that person makes can be seen with the naked eye, but never can those sounds be heard.

The Smell Nation Farms spices, and produces the world's greatest soaps and perfumes. They are very big on gardening and having vegetation growing throughout their cities. The plants are bred to create a pleasant fragrance which they use to enhance the smell of their cities and towns. They are also a very clean people. Their nation has a big trade deal with the nation of Taste in spices. In return they receive exotic foods and meats.

The Nation of Taste is located in the most fertile location on Saencila. Its a perfect location for farming and as such the majority of their nation is covered in farms. They produce an overabundance of food which is traded in other countries. Their food products are top quality which the locals attribute to magic produced by their land. One might think their country is prone to attacks due to their good fortune. Well they would be if it were not for the mountain range which protects their country from others. The Nation is most known for their talent in producing savory dishes and delectable desserts.

The Nation of Hearing is a pacifist nation, full of the land's greatest scholars, schools, and of course musicians. Politicking is big here. The more educated a person is here, the more respected they are in the eyes of their peers. The cutting edge of science occurs here. They have produced fireworks, spyglasses, spectacles, and are on the verge of creating printing devices. Musicians and playwrights are also well respected here. Particularly the more talented ones.

The Nation of Touch is known for their craftsmanship. Their architecture is a work of art, their weapons are the best in the land, and they create the best clothing, tools and furniture. Their land is abundant with metals and as such there are many mines through out their lands. Their nation currently has the strongest army and is at war with the Nation of Sight.

The Nation of Sight is where the story will begin. This nation is currently losing a war with the Nation of Touch. They are known for their artists, their paints, their dyes, their fashion, and quality pens. Unfortunately, being a Nation of Art makes for a poor nation, although their food dyes are valued by the Nation of Taste. The Nation of Touch was once a valuable trade partner with the Nation of Sight as craftsmen valued their dyes and paints. Relations, however, have obviously faded and since then the nation has been struggling economically. In the far reaches of this Nation lies the Cult of Insight. The cult has been isolated to a few towns for as long as anyone can remember.

Year 4256. 58 day of the month Auddium.
Nation of Sight
City of Irissia. Capital of the Nation of Sight.
Early Evening.

The sun is beginning to set. As is the future of for the Nation of Sight. The war with the Nation of Touch has cost them greatly over the past few months. The once thriving city of Irissia is now quiet. Few ever come to visit anymore.

At the center of the city stands The Shining Palace. Envisioned by the Nation of Sight’s greatest artists and built by the Nation of Touch’s greatest craftsmen, The Shining Palace is the jewel of Irissia, even in these dark days. Its walls are made of solid Crystal Jade, a rare yet sturdy form of jade colored crystal which glows in the darkness and glitters in the light. Its walls are covered with intricate carvings of mythical heroes long forgotten. Its interior filled with tapestries and paintings encased in frames of gold. These were treasures from a time when the Nation of Sight flourished. No longer does it flourish. No longer.

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Within the confines of The Shining Palace, the Crowned King Y’lleant Spaectrum walks the halls. Following closely behind him is his loyal advisor, Rictern, and a handful of guards. King Y’lleant stares ahead as he listens to the words of his advisor. They both had just been briefed on the latest status of the war. They've lost more ground and the Nation of Touch was just about on their doorstep.


“We cannot win this war, your Highness.” Rictern began. “Our troops are made up of painters, sculptors, dyers and potters. They are artists. Not soldiers.”

King Y’lleant nodded sullenly. He had this talk many times before.

“We must surrender my King. Your people are dying for you. They fight for a hopeless cause.”

“Our country is not a hopeless cause.” Y’lleant asserted sternly. “If we surrender. I am a dead man. My family will be slaughtered. And my wife… My precious Tallea, once again she will fall prey to her brother’s despicable… desires.” He said the last part quietly. There was no need for the guards to be spreading rumors about his wife. Even if they were true. Especially if they were true.

“You don’t know that for sure.” The king’s advisor responded. “This new Emperor of Touch, My Queen’s brother, his nation praises him as a man of the people. A great man. An honorable man who keeps his promises. You surrender with the proper terms he may let you live out your life as a city lord. Your children, his niece and nephew, left alive. Perhaps even he will leave The Queen alone. He has an Empress now. Surely that must sate his... his needs. We could end this peacefully.”

Y’lleant shook his head grimly. No matter how gracefully he surrendered. The Emperor of Touch would not allow him to live. Not this one. His father would, but not the son. Emperor Talissare was a man of the people, only from the outside. The man loved being adored. In truth, this was not the case. If a person slighted this man, even unintentionally, Talissare would find a way to utterly destroy that person.

King Y’lleant had learned about his cruelty the hard way as a youth. When Y’lleant visited the previous Emperor of Touch, with his father several years ago, Talissare had challenged him to a game of The Senses. Y’lleant’s future wife had been there then. Standing silently at his side, suffering her brother’s far too intimate touches and creepy lingering stares. The boy disgusted Y’lleant, but he said nothing.

That was the first time Y’lleant saw his future wife. Little did he know that his father and Talissare’s father were negotiating their marriage that very moment. She was a shy thing then, but once away from her brother’s grasp, she developed into a strong lady. His Queen. His entire world.

Y’lleant won that game, of The Senses, against Talissare as well as the next three that followed. Talissare didn’t take losing well. His sister made an off handed comment about how she never saw Talissare lose before. That earned her a backhand across the face from her brother. Talissare stared daggers at Y’lleant before composing himself. Later that night, he came to Y’lleant’s guest room, while Y’lleant slept, and beat Y’lleant till he blacked out. Talissare was punished severely for his actions, but Y’lleant had learned his lesson. Never cross the future Emperor of Talissare.

Unfortunately for Y’lleant, he was never able to act on that lesson. His arranged marriage to Tallea had sealed his fate. That was the real reason for this war with the Nation of Touch. No matter what the Emperor said. Y'lleant knew Talissare wanted his favorite plaything back. Y’lleant’s wife. Talissare's own sister. He truly was a disgusting man.

Did Y’lleant’s people deserve to die in order for Y'lleant's family to live and for his wife to be safe? No they did not. Rictern was right. Y’lleant should surrender his throne. Even if it meant the death of his family. That would be the morally correct thing to do for the people. However, depending on how this next meeting went, perhaps surrendering wouldn’t be necessary.

Rictern eyed the king expectantly. He was waiting for a response from Y’lleant. Y’lleant sighed. Ahead was the Y’lleant’s destination. The Palace wine cellar. An oak door guarded by four guards.

“Perhaps you’re right Rictern.” Rictern nodded appreciatively at Y’lleant’s comment. “However, I'm not yet ready to surrender. I will come to a decision depending how this meeting goes I will come to a decision.” Y’lleant stopped expectantly at the oak door to the cellar. The guards nodded and opened the door revealing a stairwell covered in darkness.

Rictern cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrow questioningly. “Meeting?” he asked. “I wasn’t informed that we had an appointment left today.”

“Consider yourself informed.” Y’lleant responded while grabbing a nearby torch and proceeding down the stairs. Rictern frowned for a split second before smothering it and following the king’s lead.

“Why are we meeting someone in a dank place like this?” Rictern asked quietly.

“Our guest prefers the darkness.” Y’lleant responded.

“And who is this guest exactly?” Rictern asked as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

A dry voice answered behind Rictern. “Someone who is right in the eyes of the lords most ancient. Someone with the vision to grant you victory in your country’s plight.”

Rictern jumped at the voice and spun. Y’lleant turned as well to face the one who spoke. The torchlight shined on a being who appeared to be covered black treelike bark. Around the man, if he could be called a man, light seemed to dim as if it were being obscured through a veil of thin cloth. He had no eyes. The man had long since ripped them from his eye sockets. Yet despite his inability to see, he stared right into Rictern’s eyes. Head slightly cocked to the side. Smiling as if he knew a funny secret.

Rictern’s eyes went wide with fear and concern. “One of The Sightless.” He said barely above a whisper. He was clearly unnerved.

The Sightless’s smile deepen further as if satisfied with unnerving Y’lleant’s advisor. Rictern turned to face Y’lleant with the speed of a flying arrow. “You allowed The Cult into the palace?!” Rictern accused.

Y’lleant’s face grew stern. “These are desperate times Rictern. In desperate times, a ruler must consider all his or her options.”

“Not if it involves the Cult of Insight!” Rictern retorted with a sneer. It was an uncommon expression for the man. “They are heathens who spurn teachings from The-Lord-Who-Senses-All!”

“Please,” The Sightless began with his dry voice, “there is plenty of room in this world for more gods than your own. Especially when your said god has been absent for ages.”

Rictern spun, disgust in his eyes. “You don’t know-”.

The Sightless cut him off. “I know far more than you could ever know. More importantly I know you. Loyal like a dog, aren’t you? So long as the price is right.”

Rictern blanched and fell silent. Y’lleant raised an eyebrow questioningly, glancing in Rictern’s direction. What did he mean? The Sightless smirked and turned his eyeless gaze upon Y’lleant.

“Your… Majesty,” The Sightless began, bowing ever so slightly. “My fellows call me Vetius. The most ancient of all Sightless. Thank you for finally allowing The Clan of Insight an-”

“The Cult.” Rictern interjected finding his voice again. The color had returned to his face. “The Cult of Insight.”

“Enough Rictern. Let Vetius speak.” Y’lleant commanded. Rictern grudgingly obliged.

“Thank you, your Majesty.” Vetius said smiling before turning his gaze to Rictern. “We actually prefer the name The Clan of Insight, Sir Rictern, but I am appreciative for your input.” Rictern twitched his eye but said nothing. Vetius turned his attention back to Y’lleant and continued. “As I was saying, thank you for finally allowing The Clan of Insight an audience with you. We’ve been wanting to meet with you ever since you took the throne. You are of great interest to us.”

“As was my father, and his father, and every other landowner in Saencila.” Y’lleant stated. “It doesn’t take much to get The Cult- I’m sorry- The Clan’s interest. The world is well aware that you wish to spread The Distortion across the land.” The Distortion was a bizarre natural occurrence that affects the land around The Cult’s ground of worship. It makes the sky dark during the day, turns the sun green, and changes the land in other ways. The Distortion was harmless, as far as anyone could tell, but it made the world feel… wrong. Y’lleant had never experienced The Distortion himself, but he heard stories about it. From his understanding, The Cult worshiped it.

“That’s… not… exactly correct… We seek to spread the Seeds of Insight to all who lack the true vision. To do so we require permission from the true ruler of the land. We are not able to spread it without consent.” Vetius corrected.

“And you wish to spread this ‘true vision’ through our lands.” Y’lleant said bluntly.

“That is our only desire, your Majesty. We simply wish to not have our faith oppressed.”

“Lies.” Rictern said. He was eyeing Vetius like a disease. “All lies.”

“Our faith, Sir Rictern, is no less of a lie than your own.” Rictern narrowed his eyes at Vetius’s comment. There was no trust in that gaze.

Y’lleant was silent for a long moment before speaking. “My country is at war with the Nation of Touch and we are losing. If we lose I will be dethroned and this land will become ruled by Emperor’s Talissare. The Clan of Insight occupies my Nation’s lands. If Talissare takes control, he will make sure to root out you and the rest of The Clan’s followers.”

“Yes. This has been foreseen by The Clan. Emperor Talissare has never tolerated our people. Although he may find it more… difficult than he expects to root us out.” Vetius responded with a knowing smirk. Y’lleant eyed The Sightless for a second wondering what the man wasn’t saying. Vetius then continued. “In any case, it is in our best interest to assist in your war. This war is not a lost cause. We have seen it. I have seen it.”

Y’lleant narrowed his eyes. “You speak of seeing things. Things that haven’t happened.”

“I do.” Vetius replied in his dry voice. “I see many things. Including those yet to come.”

“Your Majesty! You can’t possibly believe-” Rictern began in an urgent voice. Y’lleant silenced him with a hand

“Rictern. My family’s lives are at stake. I will do what I must. I will listen to who I must. Do you understand?” Y’lleant gazed in Rictern’s direction, meeting his eyes. The man grit his teeth but nodded. “Thank you, Rictern. No more interruptions.” Once again Y’lleant turned his attention back to Vetius. “Tell me about this true vision of yours. What The Clan calls Insight.”

“I can’t tell you.” Vetius said simply. “But… I can show you.”

Y’lleant eyed the man for a long moment. Hesitant. “Show me then.” He said finally.

A wicked grin crossed Vetius’s face. “Very well.” He said raising his arms.

Suddenly Vetius’s arm lashed out at Y’lleant, like vines in rapid growth. They wrapped around Y’lleant’s head. Fingers digging into the depths of Y’lleant’s mind. Y’lleant grappled the vine like arms and screamed out in pain. Vetius was digging, digging deep into his soul. He could feel something’s presence. Something gripping him in its grasp. Not Vetius. Something… something else… And then… Visions flashed before Y’lleant’s eyes. Knowledge, so much knowledge. Secrets, dark secrets. So much to digest. Too much to digest. Too much! But… it felt good. So good! This knowledge. He needed this knowledge! It was the secret to winning this war! He must have more! He needed more!

And then, it stopped. The world went back to normal. The euphoria dissipating leaving an itch that only more Insight could scratch.

“My King.” Rictern’s voice. The man was kneeling beside Y’lleant who was… on the ground? When? Rictern was holding the torch Y’lleant had. Y’lleant must have dropped it. There was a pool of blood on the floor. Y’lleant rubbed his eyes. They were bleeding.

“You Monster!” Rictern’s voice again. “Guards! Seize him! He attacked the King!” A shuffling of feet and the flickering of torchlight came from the cellar’s entrance.

“Silence, Rictern! Everyone, stand down!” Y’lleant shouted. The guards stopped already at the bottom of the stairs. “I’m alright.” Y’lleant said as he pulled himself to his feet. “I know what we must do.” Y’lleant whipped out a dagger he kept hidden at his side for protection and slashed Rictern across the throat. The man’s eyes went wide. Surprised. He made a gurgling sound, trying to say something, but no longer able to speak properly. Then he collapsed to the ground. Dead.

“Rictern was a traitor.” Y’lleant exclaimed. He knew that now. He had seen it from the Insight and knew it to be true. “He’s been spying on us and reporting to the Nation of Touch. He’s the reason our armies have been flanked battle after battle.” The guards stared daggers at the dead man. Many of their friends had been killed because of Rictern’s actions. “Send for our generals and weapon craftsmen. We will meet in the War Room. The Nation of Touch is building a new weapon. A weapon that will shoot giant metal fireworks. They will devastate our armies with these contraptions. So far they only have it in the planning stages, but now I know the secret to building them. We will build them for our armies, and with them, we will be victorious."

The guards looked slightly confused. A few looked in Vetius’s direction questioningly. But they said nothing. “Now go! And send for someone to clean up this traitor’s mess.” The guards nodded and left.

Y’lleant walked towards the stairwell. Feeling an itch that needed to be scratched. “Come with me, Vetius. I’ll be needing more Insight.”

Vetius Stayed put. “About allowing The Clan to spread our Seeds of Insight.”

“I’ll give you three towns.” Y’lleant responded. “Depending on how well the cult serves, I’ll allow for more.”

Vetius grinned and began following Y'lleant up the cellar's stairs. After years of trying, The Clan finally got a win. “My fellow clansmen will be happy to hear this. The Clan is yours, as is access to our Insight. You will need some time to recover from the last batch I showed you. A freshly exposed mind can only take so much.”

“Very well.” Y’lleant said grudgingly. “For now though, we will begin preparations to win this war. I’ll need you by my side so that you can help… explain to my Generals what you have shown me.”

“As you wish, your Majesty. I am your humble servant” Vetius said. Y’lleant wondered how much he could trust The Sightless. He would play along for now, but as soon as they became too dangerous he would rid himself of them. After so much struggling, he could finally see a future for his country. It was time to win this war.