Chapter Text
Far from Abaia, far from Ophira, two men sat in silence in a darkened room. Incense filled the air, and candlelight flickered in the golden filigree of columns and tiles. One man wore a mantle of golden scales, a red robe, and a tasseled crown that mingled with tight locks of hair. The other wore gaudy coats and capes, fastened with belts across his body. A fine rapier dangled at his side, beneath a shimmering cloak that seemed to shift him inches back and forth in the air. Four ivory strips wove around his arms as he stared without seeing. Whispers of history spilled from the ether into his mind’s eye. The other man watched him carefully, taking note of all he rambled.
After many minutes, the fair-haired man’s murmurs reached a fever pitch, and he began to tremble with emotion. Just when he looked as if he might cry out in pain, the swirling incense around him stopped – frozen on the spot – and his eyes snapped open with all the light and passion of a born storyteller.
“Incredible,” he breathed. “Amazing! Astounding! You were right to guide my spell, Your Radiance. The tales I have beheld are like none of my travels or travails – they are far better. A kingly tale, for a king’s suggestion!”
The dark-skinned man smiled. “I am glad that you have enjoyed your visions, bard. I confess, I am curious. What is it you saw that excites you so?”
“What didn’t I see?” cried the bard. “This tale has everything: dark artifacts, undead and fiends, apocalyptic plots, travels through time, minds escaping Mechanus—"
“Escape from Mechanus?” The king frowned, then muttered to himself, “The movement of power is always a delicate dance. Perhaps... perhaps the Esmenant doesn't need to know what I intend.”
The bard continued breathlessly. “And the heroes themselves… such a varied group of characters! A veteran soldier doomed to do his duty, a refugee seeking a purpose, a charlatan damned by her own deals… a hunter and a crusader, offered the chance to feed their home but risking it all for revenge… and of course, that wild witch grasping at any semblance of independence. To think those half-dozen souls saved the world from an undying empire, and destroyed the Eye and Hand of Vecna… it puts all other heroism I’ve seen to shame. I would love to shake their hands someday!”
“You will do all that and more,” said the king. “You are not the only one who sees visions, my friend. Many futures are revealed to me, through the dreamlike haze of time. Lately, the ether ripples and murmurs, and I can tell there is a storm coming. Soon I, and the whole world besides, will have need of those heroes once more. All this has been an intermission, and the next act is soon to begin; and I can see that you will have a part to play.”
The bard looked bewildered. “I... I would be honored, Your Radiance. What is it I must do?”
"The dream reveals they must be gathered here, and I shall call them,” said the king. “For now, your gift is information.” His voice took on a steely, urgent tone. “Tell me more tales, bard. Tell me how I can find them.”
With nary a moment of hesitation, the bard took up his trance once more. Words spilled from his mouth as he glimpsed the ether. “Taren the Stinger is on his family’s farm, restless and haunted. Verak and Ogrimmar serve with Gharol on the Council of Skotara, and the Herald stands guard in the Syngran Depths. Epiphany Mazali resides nowhere and nowhen, learning to see the world as Vedoran does. And Kalymina…” He blinked, coming out of the spell. “I’m… not sure where she is, but there’s certainly a full moon there.”
He turned to the king. “I don’t mean to question your wisdom, but I’m not sure I understand why we’re doing this. If trouble is afoot, don’t you have all the armies of the Sun Kingdom at your disposal?”
“An army is no use if they cannot face the target,” replied the Sun King. “I have only a vague sense of the danger coming, but I know it is far beyond my reach… for now.”
The Sun King – Kozanna – stood up then, letting his robe trail from the chair as he strode towards the window. “Gillian,” he said quietly, “do you know what I see when I dream?”
“My visions have shown me many things, but nothing so private as that!”
“It has been the same dream for many, many long years,” said Kozanna. “I am young, and I am walking in the savannah. I see at my feet a mass of termites, wandering aimlessly. I spy a strangely shaped one in the crowd, pluck it out, and idly continue. I never notice the trail that forms behind me.”
In the dappled sunlight, his brown skin glimmered with a sheen of gold. “The orange sun sets. I rest. I wake – and I find myself far above the plain. In my sleep, the termites have built their nest below me, and I sit upon a tower of sun-kissed rock. I try to move, but it is a narrow spire, and the ground is too far down to fall. The termites can climb the distance, and I watch them keep building. With subtle shifts, I can change the course of their motion, and in this way, I send them to build ever more towers. None ever reach as high as mine.”
Below, the Diamond City of Solspire stretched down the mountain to the heartlands of the Sun Kingdom. Kozanna watched the city shimmer in the sunlight with an expression of longing. “While the savannah shrinks away below me, I look above. The moon, the stars, the sun… all seem closer to my reach. I could pluck them like fruit from the branches above. I settle back into my growing throne, and set my sights upon the sky.”
He turned back to Gillian. “I am constrained by forces you cannot even fathom. I am a king, and in due time, perhaps something greater… but for now, a king must work through others.” He took Gillian’s hands in his own, pulling the bard to his feet with nary an effort. “You have served me well. So have Taren and his comrades, even if they have not always known it, and not always followed my path. Let it be so. My path is limited, and it is theirs – yours – that will deliver us from harm.”
“Your Radiance,” said Gillian, “I must admit, I’m overwhelmed. This is all happening so fast.”
Kozanna laughed. “Termites build sooner than human eyes can follow. I have seen the dance of power play out longer than you can imagine, with an ever-changing tempo.” He clapped Gillian on the shoulder. “So I’m sending the greatest bard I know to learn that tempo, and play along. I bid you learn the tales of those who will be your companions, and know them well. Try to give us a good show, won’t you?”
Gillian stood up straight and attempted a salute. “I daren’t disappoint. Indeed, I look forward to it!” He gave a sly smile. “Especially that wild witch…”