Weeks had passed since General Ferghal’s doomed expedition into the jungles of Lustria. With Ferghal and most of his army confirmed either dead or eaten by the foul vermin that were finally showing their hand, having taken Oyxl as well and made it their first surface-level bastion in Lustria, most loremasters had given up hoping that anyone would return to the Volcanic Isles alive. Yet High Loremaster Teclis, ever-confident as he was, maintained hope that someone would turn up alive. Some soldiers were unaccounted for and indeed, many griffon riders including the Warden of Yvresse were among such numbers.

That night after another long day of searching, Teclis retired to his quarters and slunk away beneath his bedsheets, falling asleep to the sound of far-away crickets. However, instead of the darkness of night, his sleep was engulfed in light.

Teclis investigated his surroundings; a city burning and above resting atop an almighty mound of corpses stood vast black citadel, hulking over the landscape.

“Hang on, that crumbling archway reminds me somewhat of an Emerald Gate and there, in the distance that statue’s bust seems familiar, almost as if it had once been the Statue of Aenarion. Impossible surely but then again, could this be Lothern?” Teclis muttered to himself.

“That name has not been spoken for many, many centuries.” a strange robed figure interrupted.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there, wait where did you spring from? Actually, I swear your aspect is rather familiar like I know you…or perhaps as if I am going to know you.” Teclis suggested.

“Lothern, O Lothern! Where once its straits carried vessels from all corners of the world, the seas have since boiled and dried up, leaving behind a tide of suffocating marine life. Where once the city stood as a resplendent beacon of civilisation, its marble columns have since cracked and its many statues have been defaced. Where once children frolicked under the cover of silver-leaved pine trees in its nearest forest, the trees have since withered and perished while the soil itself convulsed into barren wastelands. The skies which were once graced by shimmering rainbows of purple, green and brilliant yellow, now bake, heavy with the stench of the Slaughter House. Those of its people who are not beaten or who have not been sacrificed on Khaine’s altar have grown cruel, their hearts encased in ice. Behold, this is the Empire of Malekith, first of his name, Heir of the Phoenix, Eternity King of Ulthuan!”

“Malekith?” Teclis asked the familiar fellow only for the man to vanish and the loremaster to find himself in a new location, surrounded by rambling cries and jeering. “Where am I now? With this much discord it could only be the Phoenix Court…but then again I don’t approve of the decor, certainly not these heads on spikes.” Teclis stated to himself.

“Get out of the way, would you? Madman! Speaking to yourself like some simpleton! You are blocking my view!” a woman barked at Teclis. Teclis apologised and moved over, taking a look at her as he did so. She wore a fine tiara encrusted with gems and a long blue sash, a Princess of Tiranoc most probably, yet beyond that below the sash she wore clothes more befitting a hag sorceress of Naggaroth than any High Elf with its metal corsetry that revealed a set of cuts and bruises to her exposed flesh around it, not to mention the unsightly presence of a barbed spike piercing her nose from end to end.

“Silence! Silence for the Eternity Queen!” an announcer bellowed into a horn.

“She’s here! Let me see! I must get a view!” the Tiranoc she-elf demanded, barging ahead through the crowd and elbowing the face of what looked like a glade lord of Talsyn as she did so. A tall, slender witch elf clad in a gown of feathers and wielding a set of daggers at her waist, approached a balcony above to deliver a speech, her long locks of blonde hair held in an updo and her skin glistening like porcelain.

“Oh? Who’s that then? Who is this Eternity Queen?” Teclis asked another courtier.

“Shusssh! Do you want us both executed?” the elf responded.

“She just seems somewhat familiar…” Teclis muttered as another elf interjected “Shut up, simpleton!”

“My beloved people I stand here before you all, your Eternity Queen, here to serve your interests and above all to honour and showcase my undying love for my husband. Today, with my love’s permission, you shall all bear witness to a judgement on our enemies!” the Eternity Queen declared in smooth yet deranged voice as she gestured toward her beloved Eternity King sat at the zenith of the court, a voice Teclis recognised to have once been that of the Everqueen Alarielle. “No, no she can’t be?” Teclis said.

“As the Eternity Court, we strive to attain unending glory for all our people, for the furtherment of our great civilisation, the one true society in this world! Yet there are those who question our beliefs, who pretend to be capable of ruling themselves, ever-failing in their efforts as we know. Such naysayers must not be permitted!” Alarielle cried before turning to a nearby block.

“I am now to unveil and communicate with one such foe of ours. Bring in the prisoner!” Alarielle demanded as two elves, wearing a stitched mesh of white lion shoulderpads and dragon scale cloaks marched onto the balcony, dragging with them a bruised, shirtless prisoner who they forced to kneel before the block. “Identify yourself before the Court.” Alarielle instructed.

“I…Imrik, Crown Prince of Ca…Caledor” the prisoner spoke between feint breaths.

“Crown Prince? No, no, I think you must be mistaken. I am afraid you simply cannot be recognised in this court as a noble after plotting to kill your King!” Alarielle spat before grasping a dagger from her armour and twisting its blade into the side of Imrik’s torso.

“I… I am Crown P-Prince and I demand… tha-that you release my people now!” Imrik returned through baited breath.

“You dare demand anything of me?!” Alarielle shouted, outraged. “Imrik of Caledor, I am proud to declare that both you and your entire treasonous army are all our prisoners!”

“No! No, I saw wha-what happened. Your mages have sealed all of Caledor in a dome of magical energy, a twisting tempest keeping anyone from escaping fuelled by energies leeched from the Great Vortex. But… but you cannot do this! There is no Ulthuan without Caledor, no Eternity Court without all ten kingdoms! Free my people, now!” Imrik demanded, having regained some of his breath.

“You are an enemy of Ulthuan, I reject your request!” Alarielle continued. “You and your remaining battalions should have foreseen this when you took up arms against your peers. Our Archmages now have the ability to use their magics to dislodge your petty kingdom from Ulthuan’s landmass and send it hurtling into the Great Vortex to be incinerated in an instant. I shall now request permission from my beloved to carry this out!” Alarielle cried.

“No! No! This isn’t how we solve matters!” Teclis yelled from the crowd below only to be told by his peers to be quiet once more.

“Please! You cannot eradicate Caledor’s very existence! What of the many innocents who remain trapped there? Not all Caledorians joined my uprising. Please, show them some mercy!” Imrik begged.

“Mercy? They deserve their fate…that is, if our Glorious King deems it so.” Alarielle suggested before gesturing back to Malekith. The entire court went silent as the Eternity King rose from his throne, raised his arm and stuck his thumb down to display his disapproval of Caledor’s continued existence.

Imrik begged one final time but it was too late to do anything as the shudder of a far-away earthquake suddenly shook the Eternity Court to its core. Caledor was being destroyed!

Imrik howled in anguish, his kingdom destroyed, his people dead yet as he mourned for them another figure marched onto the balcony. The Keeper of the Flame, Caradryan, clad in an armoured suit of black and gold, a perfect blend of Phoenix Guard and Black Guard of Naggarond stepped out onto the balcony, positioned Imrik’s neck over the chopping block using his armoured greaves and in a single strike of his halberd, severed Imrik’s head from his shoulders, leaving the head to roll off the balcony into the Court below.

“Now, would anyone else like to question our King’s rule?” Alarielle cried before the court.

The crowd cheered in ceremonious uproar and joy for their divine monarchs, the Eternal King blessed by Asuryan, Malekith, and his bride, Khaine’s queen Alarielle while Teclis began loudly decrying what had happened as “Terrible! Terrible! This is not how we do things!”

“Oh what is wrong with you?” one courtier asked while another loudly shouted “This man challenges our King!”

“Traitor!” another roared.

“No, this is not how things should be!” Teclis insisted.

“Teach the traitor a lesson!”

“Kill him!”

“Tear his heart out!”

“Sacrifice him!

“Kill him now, kill him!”

The Court swarmed over Teclis like angry locusts, tearing him limb from limb as once more his dream was engulfed in bright light.

Teclis sat up in his bed back at the Star Tower, a cold stream of sweat slinking down his spine and blotted along his brow. None of it had been real. However, had this all simply been a bad dream or perhaps, could this have been one of Lileath’s warnings? Only time will tell…