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[h1][u][i]Capitol City - The Atrium Supra Magus[/i][/u][/h1]

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The 3 largest towers in Capitol City represented the 3 branches of the Imperium, able to be seen from almost anywhere in the city.  Largest of them all, the Central Tower was [i]The Sword of Ileandra[/i], representing the Divine Bloodline.  To the east of that was [i]The Spire of Mytheria[/i], representing the Senate.  To the west, [i]The Spear of The Source[/i], representing the Church.  All three were feats of great beauty and craftsmanship, but they were not just mere symbols of power and decorations of magnaminty.  They were also powerful conduit towers reserved for the most powerful magical rituals and ceremonies.

The Spire of Mytheria connected to [i]The Atrium Supra Magus[/i], office of the highest magical authority in the Empire. Archmage Teclis was stood in the highest room of the tower, a room with missing walls, no glass in the windows, allowing the winds of altitude to rush throughout.  The Archmage’s robes rippled with the gale as he stood dangerously close to the edge, only a hand on the stone column next to him for balance.  He would always come here to think, when a problem or puzzle seemed insurmountable.

The prediction that The Wellsprings would remain asleep for several months was wrong.  They had stirred already.  Not quite awake yet definitely on their way back to full power.  To be so incorrect was concerning on it’s own.  The Free People’s ability to interpret the Source Code correctly and have faith in academic journals from The Mythic Age, was a fundamental pillar upon which The Empire leaned.  But something else had also happened.  In addition to their miscalculations:  Yesterday, the moment that the Wellspring stirred was marked by a surge of Source that almost killed one of the city’s best Code Readers, leaving the woman permanently blind to boot.

“It is all so irregular,” Teclis mused as he went over the pieces to the puzzle.  Academics were not known for tolerating inconsistencies.

His thoughts were interrupted by none other than Dante Valeron, leader of the Adventurer Party, The Good Fight, and Chairman of The Council of Heroes.

“Archmage.”  Teclis returned the greeting but did not turn around.  Dante came to stand next to him, the man’s silver hair and polished silver armour both glistening in the sun.  “Valhiem is under attack.”

The Archmage bristled.  “An unfortunate development.  What do we know?”

“Nothing,” was the reply, Dante’s tone and expression as if the very word tasted foul.  “It hasn’t been confirmed yet, but I feel it in my bones.  Contact with the city has been magically blockaded.  I have put in requests for Code Readings on the city and surrounding area.”

“I will go to [i]The Basilica Magna Decoris[/i] at once.  Expedite the process and make sure that our very best are on the job.”

“There is something else too,” Dante added.  “I have received word from Fornost, from the party True Grade, who were at Valhiem only weeks ago, that there is a strange and uniquely powerful party that have seemingly appeared out of nowhere.”

Teclis’ eyes grew wide.  Dante nodded knowingly.

“They call themselves Second Chance.”

“Could it be…?”

“I think so.  We know that the The Summoning was completed.  They had to turn up somewhere.  It stands to reason that they would land perfectly between here and Azeroth.”  There were no more than a dozen people who knew about The Summoning.  All of them were in Capitol City, with the exception of The Witch Queen, of course.  Which meant that if this really was the heroes that had been brought from another world, Valhiem would not have a clue.  “Whatever is happening in Central Mytheria, we must pray that they survive it.”

“We have gambled so much on them.  May The Mother protect their souls and The Warrior smile on their battles.”