They say that when you take the last breath of life, that you go to a better place. This a false promise. To them, I am what the Creator is to us. I am a being of the light, of hope, of a greater promise. I am what they once were and with their callowness, what they wish to be again.



But it is thanks to them that I am telling you this now. For even in the darkest hour of the night sky, there are infinite shining stars. So it is true with them, too, as they have proven to me. In the sea of death there is yet still a soul. This changes everything, the very foundation of us all. Perhaps the Northmen were right. Or the Elves. Or all of us, in some way. Perhaps our King is still too out there, in the darkness. Watching us, protecting us, fighting a war that we do not know exists.



The stars have shown me. The heir of mighty Golestandt has awoken deep beneath Albion. Sleeping for years, protected by the darkness. We have been careless without our King. Too distracted by the Ice and the Forest, we have ignored the evil. We must end this dragon before it grows. Before it becomes more powerful than its father. Before it has an army of darkness.



And as such, we must venture once again into the deepest, darkest burrows of the underworld; which we vowed to never return to again. But this time, we will not go alone.



The stars will guide us in the night sky for as long as they can. With their light, we must shine brighter than ever; for the darkness of death is coming.