In the richer circles of the city, stood and area known as the Lane of Gods. Running almost the length of Areopolis, perpendicular to the river, it was a row of great and lavish temples and churches, built to honour the many deities worshipped in areopolis. As a gathering point and central trading area between many of the great civilisations that adorned the modern world, Areopolis had come to adopt centres for almost every religion on the face of the planet. And as one would walk down this great road, their eyes would be assaulted by great arrays of splendour and beauty, each house of worship struggling to outdo the others.


On the northern edges of the Lane of Gods was a relatively new addition, consturcted over the course of 3 years, and finished just 20 years before. A pillar reaching towards the heaven, a monolithic structure of pure marble. Through it ran veins of obsidian, perfectly incorporated with magic, depicting runes and images, all converging into a single star-shaped symbol in the centre, the official Crest of the Infinite Empire, and the symbol of the Blessed of Trazyn. 

Within the temple, sitting on a large and highly comfortable cushioned chair was Alice, tiny little legs kicking as she heard the words of the priests. Her eyes slowly moved across the faces, their pupils black as night. It seemed like the Council had rejected the Infinite Empire's rights to host a larger guard, despite the fact that the limits placed upon the Blessed of Trazyn were greater than those placed on the other religions. It was understandable, to an extent. They had no certainty of action, they lacked the direction that graced the lives of the faithful, and feared that they did not know. And those with long memories could still remember when the Blessed had been a scourge on the world, the Dark Crusade cutting a swath of destruction across the land. 

Of course, it would all change, the tables would turn. A new page was turned in the Book of Time, and the script had been written, it would not be long before the Council would acknowledge Trazyn as the greatest of the Gods. Those lesser deities, clutching at their Earthly thrones with trembling hands, they already knew what was upon them. The end of the strife and terror that they had sowed, the beginning of a time of great unification. As it had been foretold over a thousand years ago, all life would acknowledge Trazyn, and Trazyn would once more be lord over all creation.

Smiling, Alice held up a hand, silencing the priests. "ja'Lir, there's a whorehouse in the Tall District. There, find the human with troll's blood. Tell her to give the elf the glass."

"To give the elf the glass?" Faithful as always, Ja'Lir knew not to question Alice's statements. When Alice spoke, it was as if the words had come from the mouth of Trazyn himself, and was to be treated as such. If he followed her words, they would lead the Blessed into an age of greater prosperity, they always did. Without her wisdom they would all be doomed.

Alice gave a small confirmatory nod, and watched as her loyal guard walked out the door. He would do as she had asked, she knew that much, and she already knew that the trollkin would concede. The vision she had received was a beautiful one, where the Blessed would spread their Gifts to all of Areopolis, and that those who suffered would accept it. 

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Several miles to the North a great wyvern walked. Massive thrice-clawed feet dug deep gouges into the stone. The light of day reflected off of it's sleek, scaled form, it's wings unfolding as it stretched. Bones snapped beneath it's tread, as it carefully licked the blood from it's side, reptilian eyes darting around. Flames burned around it, among the heaps of piled stones and corpses, those that had been too mangled or burnt to eat. It's head rose, as it stared into the distance, towards the great city of Areapolis, smoke rising from the hundreds of houses within. As it stepped through the remains of the village, it felt it's hunger yet to be stilled. It snorted, noxious fumes rising in the warm daylight, a long tongue running across the double row of serrated teeth. 

It's great wings unfurled, slightly translucent green membranes stretching out, cleaned of the blood that had stained them, arrows almost carefully removed. With a great beat, the body of the great beast rose, inherent magic strengthening the beat and lightening the body, lifting it off the ground. High into the sky rose the wyvern, leaving behind it the scene of it's last meal.