Chapter 01 - Fall of Harksheide

In its prime, Harksheide was not just a dominion — it was a symbol. A shimmering beacon carved into the earth like a gem, whose light dared to rival the stars above. Beneath vaulted domes of dwarven steel, elven glass, and human masonry, the three noble races had forged a society unparalleled in elegance and unity. Towering spires shaped by ancient magic pierced the cavern ceilings, capturing the glow of sun-stones that mimicked daylight. Runes of peace, etched into stone by High Artificers, once pulsed gently throughout the city, sustaining harmony and holding back corruption. But power, even when used for good, casts long shadows.

It is said that Harksheide’s doom began with a whisper — a whisper that slithered between cracks in the ancient stone. Molloch, the exiled warlock, had once been a student of the Arcane Concord, a neutral order of magical scholars housed in the city’s Astral Library. Ambitious and cunning, he delved too deeply into forbidden realms of death magic, lured by dreams of godhood.

When the elders cast him out, he vanished into myth. For centuries, he wandered forgotten tombs and distant ruins, gathering dark knowledge and pacts with shadowy entities. When he returned, he was no longer a man. Cloaked in void-wrought armour and carrying the Book of Unmaking, Molloch emerged at the head of an army conjured from despair — orcs twisted by magic, revenants bound in undeath, and sentient shadows that fed on memory.

His assault came not only with brute force, but with curses that unravelled the wards of the dominion itself.

What broke Harksheide was not merely siege engines or bloodshed — it was betrayal. Lord Caelor, a high noble of elven descent and a master enchanter, had secretly made a pact with Molloch. Promised eternal life and dominion in the new order, he dismantled the dominion's central ley ward — the Aegis Core — from within. The magical latticework that protected Harksheide collapsed in a single, terrifying instant.

The dominion fell not in days or weeks, but in a single night of fire, screams, and silence.

Harksheide was never truly destroyed — it was twisted.

Molloch did not merely conquer the labyrinth; he rewrote it. Walls shifted. Streets coiled in impossible loops. The catacombs became prisons of screaming spirits. The Temple of Harmony was defiled and became the Shrine of Chains, a place where captured souls are bound to serve forever. Even time frays in Harksheide — moments loop and memories bleed together, a side effect of the fractured Aegis Core.

The ruins now harbour more than orcs. Wraith-Walkers, beings trapped between life and death, patrol the old high halls. Grave-Binders — priest-warlocks of Molloch — perform rites to feed their lord’s ever-growing dominion over death. And deep within the labyrinth's broken heart, the Throne of Ash pulses, drawing in more darkness with each passing year.

While the dominion fell, not all hope was extinguished.