Mortal Realm—Northern reaches of the Scarlet Banes Kingdom, Verrathen Canyon.
A city sprawled beneath the wash of the moon, tainted with the invasive red.
Its countless spires and domes rose like the bones of some ancient, slumbering beast.
Not a single lantern flickered in the streets—no warm windows beckoned from the darkness. Instead, the buildings loomed in utter shadow, their forms etched only by the cold blessing of moonlight that slid over cracked rooftops, traced abandoned cathedral arches, and painted the mist-choked alleys in the shades of pallid blue.
A yawned canyon, wide and empty, turned into a city in the past.
Its floor scarred with a pale, cracked bed of a river that had long since surrendered to time.
Along the cobblestone avenues, shapes moved—tall, broad-shouldered figures with the gait of men, yet the lupine snouts and bristling fur of wolves. Their clawed feet clicked against stone as they strolled in the bask of the night—Werewolves.
