From the very depths of Dalazar’s being, a primal roar of emerald lightning screeched across the heavens. It was the sound of a king’s desperation, a living tempest crashing against the impossible lake Kilik had summoned above his Kingdom of Denkou. As the celestial ocean descended, the king's ...

The air itself was a scream of ozone and pressure. Myos Ri’ore, First Born Prince of Denkou, was a living thunderbolt, his armor shedding flakes of azure plasma like a dying star as he carved through the heavens. Below him, the royal city trembled, its crystalline spires reflecting a sky gone mad ...

The wind over the summit of the Emerald Ascenion sang a thin, metallic hymn as the banners of the four great houses fluttered against the bruised violet sky. Below, the Denkou Kingdom’s five districts were being torn apart by an invasion that had the taste of stinging ruin in every breath.

“These ...

A casual smirk crept upon Dalazar’s face as the Severing Bolt connected. The flash it produced, a blinding concussive burst of emerald light, was even more potent than he’d anticipated, forcing the King—even from his distant vantage atop the Emerald Ascension’s highest spire—to shield his eyes from ...

The cacophony of war was a distant roar, a percussive backdrop of steel, stone, and screams from the slopes of the Emerald Ascension. Up here, on the windswept summit, the world had shrunk to the space between two combatants. Dalazar Denkou, the Emerald King, felt the storm of the invasion below as ...

The people wept, not only for the lives lost under the reign of fear, but for the sins of their forefathers that the flame Djynn Azar had laid bare. The fire spirit’s pale light had danced across the Irirbrium, the mental nexus that linked every Denkou, and there, in the shimmering web of memory ...

The air rumbled, a deep, thoracic thrum that vibrated through the very firmament. It was the sound of Dalazar's lightning, a magic that did not crackle but gurgled like the voice of giants, bending the realm to its will. In opposition, a behemoth of blaze stood—or rather, hovered—before him. Azar ...

The storm was a shroud, and the silence within it was a tomb.

Rain, thick as tears, lashed the Grand Arena of Denkou, washing blood from the cobblestones in spiraling rivulets. The entire kingdom’s breath was frozen; collectively, the tension was as pervasive as the very tempest around them. They ...

As Dalazar stood before Myos, gleaming with a divine glare that could only be attained by the chosen, not the demanding, his eyes were simmering pits of malice.

“Myos,” Dalazar’s voice cut through the crackle, “you cling to the idea of salvation while you wound the very flesh you claim to protect ...

He was slender, dressed in a simple, travel-worn royal blue cloak, his face etched with a chronic weariness that could not entirely hide its handsome lines. Upon his person, he donned the ancestral King's thread of the First King. It was Dalazar . His garment was etched with runes of ancient power ...