Death himself is afraid
Regulos the Destroyer, the Devourer of Worlds, and dragon god of the Plane of Death … is afraid. He fears Crucia’s Storm Legion, whose power and numbers swell with ancient and powerful magitech. He recoils from her mind, her ability to invade, persuade, and compel. He obsesses over the rumors of her discovery.
What match are his pale warriors for her disciplined Legion? How can shades and corpses withstand her sea of mechanical aberrations? How might he murder her in her prison before she escapes to a distant continent shrouded in storms that do her bidding, protected by an army set to cross the planes?
All according to plan
Though Crucia lies bound beneath Iron Pine Peak, her icy tomb – cracked with the sundering of the Ward – cannot contain her powers over mind and thought. She converses with emissaries and ambassadors through the voices of her captors. From Watchman to magister to courtesan to king, she reaches into the affairs of the Ascended, using Guardians and Defiant as cogs to hasten her release.
Regulos knows her machinations are accelerating: First, she unmade the Blood Storm, turning Maelforge against his own just when victory over Telara seemed assured. Next, she inspired the escapes of her trapped brethren so that they might stand – and be slain – in turn. Now, she sets into motion a plan to remake the fabric of the planes and loose her armies on all who oppose her dominion.
The Storm is nigh
Crucia’s puppets spread rumors of what lies ahead. They describe how winged, metal beasts will cut through the Ascended as the Dragon of Air makes her escape, how titanic colossi will incinerate those who oppose her flight.
They shout that time runs thin, and that only one path remains. All should embrace her call, and heed her summons to the Gate …