I am the first among the Lords of Sky, Water, and Earth.
I am the first to have known and mastered the Force.
I am the first to have traveled the entire world and seen its heart.
I am the first to have recorded its history.
I am the first to have challenged time itself.
But not everything can last forever.
I am the last who remains free.
I am the last who remembers the past.
I am the last who is ready for battle.
I am the last who believes in the future.
I am the last who awaits it.
My friend. My enemy. My lover. My killer.
He appeared suddenly—in the north, together with the Host of Eternal Ice.
One by one, the signal fires of the fortresses flared up—the pride of the nation, which had stood guard over the Great Ice Barrier for centuries. But they went out just as quickly, leaving only darkness behind.
When the last fires died out and news of the fall of the northern strongholds reached the capital, the Great Queen of the North gathered her army. She gave command to her daughter and assigned her most experienced generals. They marched north, confident they would stop the threat, as their ancestors had done.
Within weeks, the capital lay in ruins. Mighty walls had fallen, the streets were painted with the blood of defenders, and survivors trembled among the rubble of their own homes.
The Citadel, once a symbol of the nation's strength, became a symbol of fear, defeat, and the conqueror's relentless will. For several days, the queen and her daughter hung from its walls—to finally break the people's spirit.
He called himself the Lord of the North. Growing his army with people from conquered lands, he moved forward, and each of his steps changed the world.
The Lesser Lord of the Plains did not interfere for a long time.
He stood on the high terraces of his palace and looked north, where foreign lands burned beyond the horizon. He heard of the fall of fortresses, of ruined cities, of thousands of refugees, but believed it was not his war.
Fire and ice devoured neighboring states, and he watched silently, convinced the storm would pass him by.
But when the banners of the Lord of the North appeared at the borders of his own lands, and enemy garrisons rose in the border villages, he understood that the time for indifference was over.
The first battle took place on the plains near the northern borders.
Despite numerical superiority, the army of the Plains was crushed. The plains, meant to be a field of glory, became a place of flight and death.
The second battle occurred near a fortress built between two cliffs. Its mighty walls, which had held back enemies for centuries, could not withstand the onslaught of the Lord of the North. Stone cracked, towers fell, and the narrow passage between the rocks opened the way for his host.
The third battle took place on the bank of a great river, in a port city where the armies of the Plains were crossing to the other side.
There he captured the golden banner of the Lord of the Plains. He raised it above his head, broke it in half, and threw it into the water, proclaiming himself the Lord of Twilight.
While the Lord of the Plains gathered scattered units and sent messengers pleading for help, the Twilight Lord subdued cities around, placed garrisons, changed laws, and took hostages.
When the united army of the Plains, Forest-Dwellers, Highlanders, and Beast-Tribes stood on the riverbank, thousands of mages stepped forward.
They stood in rows, facing the water, and their voices merged into a single dull hum.
The mighty current slowed. The waves stilled. The river's surface trembled, and ice began to rise from the depths.
At first thin as glass, it quickly thickened, sealing from bank to bank.
Cracking echoed over the water, and with each magical word, the icy road grew stronger.
Within an hour, the river stopped its flow. Before the army lay a white path leading straight to the gates of the port city.
The battle began at once. It had no end—lasting for weeks, shifting from fierce assaults to exhausting siege skirmishes.
The earth was trampled into mud, the water reddened with blood.
In the end, the Lord of Twilight won. His icy host was nearly destroyed, leaving barely a hundred warriors, while thousands lay on the riverbanks.
It took nature decades to erase the traces of that battle.
After the victory on the river, he did not stop. His icy host was exhausted, but now beside him stood the Northern Queen—no longer a captive, but a loyal ally.
Together they overcame the hardships of the campaign, restored the army's strength, and gathered new warriors from conquered lands.
The Plains fell first. Cities opened their gates one by one, and the Lord of the Plains, stripped of power, vanished into obscurity.
The Forest-Dwellers held out longer. Their forest fortresses burned at night, and smoke hung over the mountains for weeks.
The forests, once their protection, became a trap when fire and ice closed in together.
The Highlanders shut themselves in their cave fortresses, but stone did not save them.
Underground halls collapsed under the blows of siege engines, and mountain passes were choked with the bodies of defenders.
The Beast-Tribes fought to the last, but were defeated.
Their chieftains fell to their knees, and their cries merged with the roar of the crowd hailing the new ruler.
One by one, he subdued the Lord of Water and the Lord of Earth.
Sea harbors now welcomed his ships, and fields and mines worked for his army.
Only I—the Lord of Sky—remained free.
I saw how the other Lords fell one by one, how conquered lands became part of a foreign shadow.
The outcome was certain.
I did not doubt how this fight would end.
But each day of waiting only fueled my impatience.
I stood on the winds, looked at the horizons, and waited.
Not for victory. Not for defeat.
But for the very moment we would meet—and the world would fall silent to watch me fall.