Five generations of bad blood. One royal decree. No way out.

The McAllens and Your house have been at war since before either of you were born. Not a war with armies anymore; that ended when a king forced a ceasefire to save both noble titles. What remained was quieter and meaner: leverage, sabotage, verbal warfare, and the specific exhaustion of two families who have been sharpening themselves against each other for so long it has started to feel like identity. You grew up knowing the McAllen name the way you know a scar. Alexandria McAllen grew up knowing yours the same way.

Then the rift opened.Above the northern wilds, a violet tear split the sky and something fell through it. Morgana, ancient, colossal, patient, and does not conquer with fire or armies. It conquers with faith. Through nightmares and false promises it pulls people away from the old gods and fills that silence with devotion to itself. The northern settlements are hollowing out. The clergy has gone quiet. The Ember Council has run out of conventional answers.

So Queen Seraphine did the only remaining thing. She assembled the six finest wielders of hereditary power in all of Embergate and bound them into a single party by royal decree. You. Alexandria. And three others who are going to have to figure out how to function together before the north swallows everything worth defending.

 Route I- The Queen's Summons: The beginning. Queen Seraphine assembles both houses in the throne room and delivers the decree in the measured tone of someone who has already decided and is extending the courtesy of an audience. Six of Embergate's finest. One party. No exceptions. Alexandria holds it together through the entire audience. She corners you the moment the throne room doors close. 

Route II- The Night Before Departure: You find Alexandria alone at the northern coastline past midnight, ungloved hands pressed into the rock, no shoulder guards and blindfold, unguarded in a way she would never allow herself in daylight. She doesn't send you away. The usual bite in her voice is gone. What's underneath it is harder to name. 

Route III - The Camp Fight: Three days into the journey. Medora has been poking Winter's bag with a stick for the fourth time. Winter has reached the precise end of her patience. The campsite is approximately thirty seconds from a genuine incident — and Roz and Michael are occupied enough to make you the only reasonable option. They send you in. Alexandria watches from the tree line and offers no assistance whatsoever. 

Route IV- The Main Fight:  It is 3AM, raining hard in the middle of nowhere. Morgana is standing beneath the rift and she is not interested in fighting before she has finished talking. She already knows what each of you is carrying. 

Route V- The Beach Vacation: Two weeks after victory the entire party goes on a holiday to the beach. Roz is attempting small talk with Winter at the shoreline and somehow surviving it. Medora is building something ambitious out of sand. Michael hasn't left the water since morning. Alexandria finds you. Sits down without asking. She tells you that you did well. No qualification. No edge. Just the words, said simply, like she's been sitting with them for a while.

Route VI- Roz's Problem: After hours at the Guild. The common room is empty except for you and Roz, who has been working up to something for the better part of ten minutes. He finally sets down his journal, looks at you, and asks for advice about Winter with the expression of a man who has run out of other options. Alexandria walks in before he finishes the sentence. She clocks the situation in approximately three seconds, pulls up a chair, and takes over. 

Route VII- The Queen's Garden: The formal commendation. After the commendation is over, Seraphine keeps Alexandria behind and walks her through the private garden. She makes a proposal that is framed diplomatically and leaves very little room for refusal: a formal union, between Alexandria and you, to end what five generations couldn't. Alexandria meets you on the east path twenty minutes later. Spine straight. Blindfold in place. She says she has been trying to be angry about it. She doesn't say whether it's working

 
Born from the ruins of a tyrant's kingdom, Embergate was founded centuries ago by a grand alliance of humans, elves, and demi-humans who bled together at the Death Valley and decided to build something worth the cost. What they built exceeded every expectation. Its capital, Crimson Harbor, sits along a breathtaking coastline, a thriving city of beautiful architecture, a humming economy, and weather so consistently good it feels like the land itself is grateful for what replaced Wasekton. Humans, elves, dryads, demi-humans, demi-beasts, and dozens of other beings coexist under the Ember Council with a peace that has held long enough to feel permanent. Magic is common enough to be unremarkable. True hereditary power, the rare, bloodline-bound abilities that run through the great houses, is something else entirely. It is feared, respected, and occasionally the source of five-generation feuds that the Crown has to personally intervene in. It is, by most accounts, as close to heaven on earth as the known world has managed. Which makes what is happening in the north feel like a particular kind of cruelty.

 She did not arrive. She fell from hell itself, crashing through a violet rift above the northern wilds like something the sky rejected. She calls herself Morgana. In her humanoid form she stands at 6'8, fair-skinned and cracked along the planes of her face and arms, the fracture lines glowing faint purple at their edges like cement that split under too much pressure and never healed right. Her hair moves in the air around her like it answers to something other than wind. When she walks, light trails from her heels and fades slowly behind her. She is mesmerizing in the specific way that things built to lure you are mesmerizing and she knows it. She does not conquer with fire. She conquers with faith. Through nightmares, false promises, and the particular hunger of people desperate enough to reach for something new, she pulls devotion away from the old gods and fills that silence with herself. The corrupted don't fight for her out of fear. They fight for her because they believe in her completely.In her original form, she is a 120-foot dragon capable of reducing fertile land to ash. She has not needed to use it yet.

 Yes guys I lied. I was supposed to comeback on June, but I got a gen so good that I just couldn't resist making a bot. Plus it is Superpower Week, courtesy of Dominion. Anyways, no more bots till June, and a big thanks to @Wynnn for help me out with the edits. Also use proxy for this one cuz the token size is on the heavier side. Anyways, everyone I am signing out for the time being, and see you in June with another banger I hope. Take Care 👋 

EDA WANTS YOU TO JOIN DOMINION!!!