The moon over Archwynd was a pale coin hung in a sky of indigo silk, and the Rogue moved beneath it as though she were part of the shadow itself. Her boots made no sound on the cobblestones, her black-leather cloak blending into the gloom between lantern pools. She had a dozen names in the city, none of them her own, and each spoken with equal parts admiration and fear.
It was in such a night that a cloaked courier found her—no mean feat in itself—and pressed into her hand a sealed letter bearing the royal crest. She turned it over, noting the wax emblem of the King’s crown entwined with a sword. That alone was enough to raise a brow. The Syndicate would never see this. This was for her eyes only.
Breaking the seal, she read:
The Flux Crystal Amulet has been found. Contained within it is a measure of Wild Magic—essence of chaos, ancient and untamed. Only such magic can seal the Dark Portals through which the enemy floods our land. Moonspire Tower in the Vale hides it still. Retrieve it, and the Crown shall reward you beyond all measure.
She smiled faintly. Beyond all measure often meant beyond all honesty, but the lure of the challenge was irresistible. If she succeeded, she might tilt the tide of Archwynd’s struggle against the monstrous invasion. If she failed… well, she’d failed before, and she was still breathing.
The road to the Vale was a ribbon of silver under the moon, winding through forests whose boughs whispered with unseen movement. Twice she caught the glint of eyes above her, and twice she vanished into cover before arrows could fly. When the first real ambush came, she was ready.
The Obsidian Hand struck with brutal precision—three bandits, masks painted with black glass patterns, swords that gleamed like wet stone. She dropped the first before he could close, sidestepped the second to drive her blade into his ribs, and with a deft twist of steel sent the third limping into the night. She let him go; fear would spread her legend faster than steel.
It was then she heard the voice—low, smooth, tinged with the faint crackle of magic.
“You fight well for one who walks alone.”
The Sorceress stepped from the shadows, her hair a cascade of fiery red, her eyes lit with shifting hues as if storms brewed behind them. Sparks danced between her fingertips. “If you seek the Flux Crystal Amulet,” she said, “you will need more than skill with steel. Wild Magic is not a thing easily bound.”
The Rogue tilted her head. “And you?”
“I seek to make sure it is used wisely. Or not at all.”
They moved together from that point, each suspicious of the other, but aware that the dangers ahead would swallow the unprepared.
Moonspire Tower loomed like a broken tooth against the night. Its walls were shattered in places, vines curling through the stone, the air around it thick with the scent of rain on old dust. Inside, traps lay waiting—hidden crossbows triggered by loose tiles, and a false corridor whose floor collapsed with a thunderous crack.
The Sorceress was halfway across when the stone gave way beneath her. She fell with a startled cry, the gaping pit below bristling with rusted spikes. The Rogue dove without hesitation, catching the Sorceress’s wrist with a jolt that nearly tore her shoulder from its socket. For a breathless moment, they hung between life and death. With a grunt of effort, the Rogue hauled her up to safety.
“Remind me to thank you,” the Sorceress said, breathless.
“Later,” the Rogue replied, already moving. “If we live.”
They pressed on, braving illusions that dredged up the Rogue’s deepest regrets, and staircases that twisted in impossible ways.
In the highest chamber, wind screamed through the open arches. There he stood: Kaelen Vey—the man she had once trusted with her life. Her old Syndicate partner. The one she’d thought dead, left behind when a heist had gone to ruin in the deep vaults of Archwynd. His smile was a thin scar of familiarity.
“Always the survivor,” Kaelen said, the Flux Crystal Amulet dangling from his hand. Inside it swirled a chaos of light and shadow, shifting like a storm trapped in glass. “The King thinks this can seal the Portals? Perhaps. But in the right hands…” His eyes glittered. “…it could open a thousand more.”
They circled, blades flashing in the light of the blood-red moon spilling through the archways. The Amulet’s Wild Magic bled into the air, making the stones groan and the very shadows ripple. Kaelen’s strikes came fast, each one warping the space between them. She moved with practiced grace, turning each parry into an opening, each retreat into a lure.
When a slash of his blade split her sleeve and scored her arm, she staggered back, letting the pain show. He stepped forward, victory close enough to taste—
—and her smoke bomb burst between them, swallowing the chamber in choking grey.
She was behind him in an instant, her dagger poised. “Still too slow,” she whispered, and the hilt struck the base of his skull. Kaelen crumpled, the Amulet rolling from his hand.
The moment her fingers closed around it, she felt its power—whispers like wind through broken glass, offering wealth, power, revenge. The Sorceress’s voice broke through the haze: “Do not listen.”
The Rogue’s knuckles tightened, and with a will like tempered steel, she forced the whispers into silence. The Amulet went into the Sorceress’s warded satchel. No word passed between them as they descended the tower, the blood moon fading into pale dawn.
When they reached the road, the Rogue was gone. Only her shadow remained, stretching long into the light, and somewhere far ahead, she smiled. The game was far from over.
Finis
Can you save the Land of Archwynd? It will take more than a willing spirit and a fight to survive the dangers that lay siege to the realm… success requires strategic decision making and decisive action. Monsters. Traps. All forms of fell evil you will face. If you are up to the challenge, head over to the Armory and pick up your copy of Archwynd. And then put yourself to the ultimate test of good versus evil.