Third person’s POV

There was a place on the map that held no alliance. It stationed itself at the border of all four initial empires and was given the name No Man’s Land. Each empire took turns guarding this place, as it was also considered a sacred spot where the historical battle had taken place.

Commander Rehn of the Shadow Guard had patrolled No Man’s Land for fifteen years, and he was used to the silence that accompanied this sacred ground. But this particular night, the calm didn’t seem natural. It felt more akin to the calm before a storm and for a place that bordered all four empires, that was more expected than not.

Suddenly, the grass rustled though there was no wind.

The torches burned steadily, but their flames leaned toward the east.

And then he saw him.

A figure stood at the edge of the boundary stones, clad in black robes that swirled without the wind. His face was hidden behind a bone-white mask, its edges smeared with ash. A grinning skull was carved into its surface.

“State your name and purpose,” Rehn called out, spear raised.

The figure tilted its head, silent.

“Remove the mask,” Rehn ordered, stepping forward.

The air shimmered.

Before Rehn could react, the figure raised a hand and the world exploded into blue flame.

Even with all his years of experience, he could tell the different types of magic.

And this, this was Myrridan.

Not long after, others came each wearing identical robes with a crown encircled by thorns. They appeared briefly, as if only to announce their existence, and swiftly disappeared. Their intentions were clear.

They wanted the world to know they were here.

And upon the path their fire had scorched into the earth, it left behind a name:

The Hollow Thorn.

“Immediately go and report this to the King!” Rehn shouted to one of his subordinates.

Rehn was summoned to the palace without delay.

“What was your take on the rebels today?” the King asked, wanting the opinion of a seasoned warrior.

“They didn’t fight like rebels,” Rehn answered truthfully. “They were more akin to soldiers trained in silence, moving as one mind. My King, I fear this may be more than just rebelling humans.”

At his words, a military council was quickly formed. All the kings, queens, and generals from the Shadow, Demon, and Dragonian empires gathered to discuss the impending threat. Meanwhile, the Shadow Warriors alongside the Dragonian Warriors continued to guard No Man’s Land.

Before long, word reached the still-assembling council:

An army of Hollow Thorns was attacking No Man’s Land.

The Shadow Warriors and Dragonian Warriors regrouped. Steel clashed against magic.

But for every Hollow Thorn operative struck down, two more emerged.

Myrridan magic cracked the night sky like lightning.

The humans’ powers had evolved diverse elements now threatened to bring defeat to the other empires.

And they were not alone.

Unbeknownst to the Shadow and Dragonian warriors, unauthorized Demon warriors cloaked and unannounced had entered the fray from the south. They wielded corrupted Rume blades, weapons inscribed with symbols long banned by treaty. The air rippled with heat as their blades cracked the earth, drawing attention and escalating the chaos.

One of the Hollow Thorn leaders, a masked woman with blood streaking her fingertips and red fiery hair slightly flailing out of her cloak, turned to the ruin of a nearby shrine. She shouted something in the old tongue and slammed a crystalline orb into the ground.

The rumble was immediate. Magic was building fast, the telltale sign of an explosion.

But before anyone could stop her, a Dragonian warrior seized her already self-destructing form and hurled her into the edge portal leading into the human empire.

The explosion that followed was not a sight to behold.

It was layered magic a self-destruct, yes but corrupted with supernatural enhancement.

And just like that, all surviving members of the Hollow Thorn vanished.

Not even the bodies of their fallen comrades were left behind.

The council met in the aftermath.

Military matters of the highest urgency were always convened in the Deep Chamber beneath Citadel Etheryn, a floating island reserved only for times of catastrophic crisis.

Seated at the long rectangular obsidian table were the highest representatives of the empires:

King Korrin Velmorne of the Shadow Empire.

Minister Kael Rendor, the half-shadow, half-human military strategist and steward of the Human Realm.

King Bramik Malzakar of the Demon Empire.

And Emissary Laen Thorne, standing in for the absent Dragonian monarch.

Between them stood a Memory Crystal—the only surviving record of the incident and the sole device that revealed the extent of the damage the human realm had suffered.

“We cannot let this be public,” King Bramik said, fingers laced before him. “News of humans wielding Myrridan will incite panic.”

“And rebellion,” added Laen Thorne, not unkindly. “Let’s not pretend it isn’t already brewing.”

Minister Kael slammed his hand on the table. “This was sabotage. You saw the markings on the orb those were demonic rune layers beneath the Myrridan shell.”

“You accuse us?” Bramik asked, his voice as calm as poison.

Korrin said nothing. Her gaze remained fixed on the crystal, where the memory of the attack played on repeat in silence.

“It wasn’t just them,” she murmured. “The runes… they were layered twice.”

Everyone paused.

“What do you mean?” Laen asked.

“The outer design is demonic. But beneath that… symbols even older. Could it be that part of the original Myrridan or something else, someone hidden was involved?”

The chamber darkened with implication.

“So what do we do?” Kael asked, voice weary.

“We seal the truth,” Bramik said smoothly. “Classify this as a magical accident. Blame it on unstable rebel artifacts. Declare the Hollow Thorn destroyed or better yet, conceal their existence entirely. And we ensure that No Man’s Land is closed to all factions… for the next ten years.”

Korrin’s lips thinned.

“And what if they return?”

Bramik smiled faintly.

“Then we’ll be ready. With the truth or without it.”

“Very well then,” Korrin said, rising to her feet. “Since we are all agreed, there is no need for this meeting to last any longer.”

And one by one, the council members left the chamber.

But deep below the council chambers, a hooded courier passed a sealed letter to an unseen figure in the shadows.

The seal bore the mark of a Fractured Crown encircled by thorns.

“The council buried the truth,” the courier whispered. “Just as you said they would.”

A gloved hand took the letter.

“Perfect,” a voice replied.

“Then let the game begin.”