Prologue
The Pool of Sanctuary
Axios, Upper Midgard
17 Ianuarius 645

The Great Temple of Axios was laid out in the fashion of a hexagram. At each of the six points and each of the six intersections was a chapel dedicated to one of the Twelve, the gods of the World. Day and night Clerics would be found milling about, attending to their assorted duties to their gods, the faithful, and the temple itself.
In the center of the temple was an expansive forum capped with a large dome representing the vault of the heavens and in the center of the dome was an aperture little more than the breadth of a man with his arms extended. The purpose of this aperture was not to permit the light of the sun and moon, but another that would soon become clear.
A shaft of light appeared, descending from heavens through the aperture down to the shallow pool below. The tertiaries standing watch over the pools took the silver handbells hanging off their belts and began to ring them loudly, shouting, "Warriors in retreat! Come, healers! Come, helpers! Come to save life and limb!"
While Clerics flocked to the pool, a human form took shape in the light. Normally, the ones who arrived at the Pool of Sanctuary were overambitious Apprentice Adventurers who got in over their heads. Some were not even that sorely injured when they appeared. They simply panicked and took the quick and easy way back to Axios, saving their hides at the cost of all their gear.
This was not one such case.
Even from a glance, you could tell this was a seasoned Adventurer, no weakling or craven, but whatever made him flee must have been truly terrible. The waters of the pool became murky with his blood. He had lost his left arm at the elbow and his left leg just below the knee, and his side was torn open with his entrails hanging out. Judging from the wounds, this was the work of no blade but rather teeth and a fearsome set of them at that.
The Clerics pulled the man's body out of the pool onto a linen sheet that had been spread out for him. The man cried out in agony as his wounds began to turn black and dark veins started creeping toward his heart.
"Purify him!" a voice shouted. "Do not let the curse spread any further!"
"It is too strong!" one of the healers objected, before he began screaming in a panic as the curse infected his own hand.
"We need a Bishop! A Bishop of Lord Luxion! Someone, go to the Chapel of Light! Hurry!"
The light reappeared in the pool and this time it was a woman with nearly half her body horribly burned. No sooner was she pulled away than another appeared, this one a man who was already dead, bitten in half, whose last drop of strength was spent in a vain attempt to escape his doom. After him was another woman, younger than the first, crying tears of blood from her ravaged eye sockets.
Next was the rare form of two who were transported together, a young man cradling a girl of roughly the same age.
"Take her!" he said hoarsely to the Clerics. "Save her first!"
Though the girl was unconscious, she was not nearly as bad off as he was, missing most of the hide on his back and bleeding from many other wounds besides.
The Clerics did not take requests, however chivalrous they may have been. They were trained to save who could be saved, from the most urgent need to the least. At the moment, the girl had the least reason for worry, but saying as much would only fruitlessly agitate her young defender.
By the time the light ceased appearing, a total of eleven had been taken from the pool and of those eleven, four were beyond saving. It was a Bishopess of Nyxia, the Mother Night, who had come to take on the curse of the first man to appear. She was holding her arm, struggling to contain the curse's power until she could call on the aid of her Patroness, while the other Clerics kept their distance from her.
She looked on those who had been rescued and those who were lost, and she said, "So few of you... Are you all who have returned?"
The young man who had come carrying his female companion answered the Bishop through gritted teeth as a healer worked to regrow the skin that had been peeled away.
"If there's anyone else... God help 'em..."