“- Bufoon!”

“- You’ve been dreaming about Mithaurian’s King, Albano, the Golden Mane!”

“- Enough with these reveries!”

…they say.

Albano… Mithaurian‘s bravest. A strong king indeed for a time of peace, which is not the case anymore. Even decades ago, at his prime, would he be no match for the creature in my dreams.

Once again I dreamed about him. There was some sort of cave, a mysterious glow covered in mist, and that is where he was after his goal. It seems there is something to be gathered from that place but inimaginable dangers encircle those who chase within. It feels so real.

This must have been. Or will be. Or something in between.

Even though I’ve read through most of the tomes in this library nothing was found about this creature and these places in the pages. Living and working here for more years than I can account for, the truth lies elsewhere. It is as if all I envision never existed. Or there must have been great reason for such power to be kept hidden from the world…

The war has gotten the best of us.

Entire kingdoms have fallen and very few are left. Our small alliance is losing strength in every front. Spellenrune, Technokrest and Mithaurian have been trying to settle peace amongst the remaining civilizations but the people and the armies have run short of resources to fight back the destruction.

“The end has come.” – People say. A myth that seems to have come to be. But now I see better. I must warn each and every Verge descendant out there. It all started with a dream. But never had a dream been so real. It feels like there’s a new energy in the air, widening my senses, raising my awareness of all that surrounds us. There might be hope after all.

A Fierce lion came to me. A relentless warrior in a shining armor, with total mastery of a mythical spear and the ability to cast a healing aura. His opponents crumble to the sound of his roar. He calls to me. We bind. It is as if we become one. I can feel the wind cut through my face as he thrusts towards the enemy lines. The smell of soaked grass enters my nostrils and the blood of the ill partially covers the sun reflection in his plate. He is the bearer of salvation.

Everybody must know. I try to recollect a few of his features and my mind can barely help me draw these traces… Who could this be????