"Witches and Wizards beware!
Krokotopian tombs have awoken!

All former students are called to quell the return of Hamnatra the Enslaver!"

~Merle Ambrose

Fiona's time at the school had been rife with hardships and losses. Malistaire's rise to power and his terrorizing of the schools and spiral itself had been too much. Even after his defeat, the damage had been done. She wasn't far into her training when she up and left, returning home and putting down her spellbook. Though that didn't last long, did it? First came whispers from Marleybone, bloodthirsty thugs and cutthroats taking over the streets, the police were unable to slow their advance to the town center. Then the Dragonspyre conspiracy, a rumor that former students, dark wizards, and outcast scions of the Death school were mounting for a full coup de grace of Wizard City from the citadels of Dragonspyre, calling themselves the Sons of Malistaire. Grizzleheim and Mooshu were once again at conflict with one another, no one wanted to say it, but war was on the horizon. The other worlds were again facing a plethora of threats but none as dire as Krokotopia, tombs long forgotten had opened of their own accord. Marching forth from those black depths came the armies of Hamnatra the Enslaver. The Outcast King is what the other Krokotopians had called him, for even they detested his cruelty and his methods. One by one each of their tombs fell to him, and now he has a horde of undead and enslaved minions so large that the entire spiral might be a target for his returning hunger.

Fiona hadn't been idle, every whisper and rumor dug at her resolve until it broke. In the dead of night she dawned her cloak, latched on her amulet, a gemmed ring slipped over her finger, a jeweled dirk slipped into her waistband, and with a bitter smile she slipped her old spellbook into her satchel. She had no idea if she could make a difference, but how many people that could make a difference would ignore the call? Her spells weren't the kind that would win any of Diego's tournaments, but she'd dig her heels in and fight.

It wasn't long until she found the fight, but the fight was a slaughter. Dozens of Alumni, some she recognized but most she didn't, had grouped up for an assault through the door into Krokotopia to gain a foothold. But Hamnatra was there, waiting for them. His horde descended on them from all sides, Kroks, Manders, Golems, Undead, Minotaurs, and even a mind-broken Oni. Around her they fell one by one, all hope was lost, their retreat was cut off, so Fiona fled. She ran, anyone still conscious did as well, she wasn't the only coward present. Each survivor of their attack ran in different directions, she quickly found herself sprinting into the Pyramid of the Sun, behind her Hamnatra's minions were in close pursuit. Yet fate intervened, Fiona weaved through the halls and corridors of the ancient pyramid, she herself unsure of where she was going, until she finally came to a stop at a narrow crack in the wall. Slipping through, she waited as her pursuers ran by, screaming and howling as they hounded after her further into the tomb. Her heart was beating hard in her chest, how closely had she escaped death. With two choices, she could leave her hiding spot and try to find a way back to safety, or just wait here in the dark, never knowing when they might look a little too closely, and find their prey. The latter stuck true, she was too afraid to leave, so Fiona waited.

Hours crawled by, once she thought she heard a scream as another of her comrades was found, but the tomb echoed the sound for minutes, maybe it'd been a loud bug? The dead sandy place was beginning to play tricks on her mind, but that was the least of her problems, she was thirsty and hungry, and very tired. As much as she fought it, she felt the warmness of the air pressing her down. The rocks of the wall were tight but also held her aloft, closing her eyes for just a moment, she fell asleep and as quickly as she went she awoke again. A clamor of sounds and voices drew her from her slumber, something dark and hidden had entered the pyramid. From her hiding spot she spied it.

Instantly she recognized the towering figure, Candren the Soulfiend, one of Malistaire's most loyal lieutenants. Before him kneeled a follower, something about the man seemed off, almost like she recognized the build of him. She couldn't have heard the entire conversation but Candren's voice finally found her ears ,"-advance across the Oasis, through the Spiral Door, and into the spiral at large. Ambrose's loyalist fools will do what they can, but it won't be enough. Cut a path through to the Chamber of Fire, gather the enslaved Manders to our cause, that will take enough pressure off of our secret passage and..." Candren's voice trails off as his gaze lingers on the darkness. "To your task, the enemy is near. Malistaire lives!" Before Candren's ghostly image could fade the kneeling man repeated the motto, Fiona recognizes the voice, now it all makes sense, it's you.

Who you are to fiona is up to you. Are you a former classmate turned sour? Maybe you were top of the class, but some tragedy befell you and now you serve the forces of darkness. Maybe you are a lost love from her youth? The Spiral is in trouble, will you help or hurt the forces of good? Are you and your compatriots true followers of a dark lord, or are your intentions misunderstood?