Elsewhere, deep beneath the earth, far from the prying eyes of the outside world, a gathering was underway.
The underground structure was ancient, its stone walls carved with intricate symbols that seemed to writhe whenever the flickering torches illuminated them. Thick pillars supported a ceiling lost in shadow, while strange markings covered the floor in concentric circles surrounding a raised platform.
At the centre of the chamber stood a long, obsidian table.
Seated around it were hooded figures, each wearing dark robes embroidered with the same silver sigil: an ornate chalice surrounded by interlocking rings.
The Blessed.
They were people who had devoted themselves to a cause that the outside world would struggle to comprehend. To them, the world above was not something worth preserving in its current state. It was a flawed creation, an unfinished stage awaiting the arrival of beings far greater than humanity.
And they intended to prepare it for them.
