An undisclosed amount of time ago…

  Ralei, servant to Disciple Arolo, scowled as he watched them drink. The Disciples had gathered for their ritual before the purge—a tradition Ralei found revolting. He sat on the edge of the palace dining hall, letting the warmth from rows of crackling hearths distract him from how cold he felt inside.

  Laughter and crude jokes filled the hall as the Disciples revelled in the suffering they were about to inflict. Their faces lit up with glee, each toast brimming with eagerness for the impending devastation. Kitchen staff brought out whole roasts of falix, a rare delicacy for the Highest Domain, a luxury those in the Lower parts could only dream of—a dream that would soon be abruptly shattered.

  The Disciples hadn’t always been like this. Once, they were noble. But as with any unchecked power, it twisted and corrupted them over time. With the introduction of The Resonance across all three domains, these once-proud souls had morphed into something unrecognisable, warped beyond any resemblance of the figures they once symbolised.

  Right on cue, Disciple Arolo snapped his fingers, summoning Ralei with urgency. Ralei slid off his stool out of habit and approached, expecting yet another command to “fetch more drink.”

  To his surprise, Arolo had something different in mind.

  “Ralei, my dear boy, would you be so kind as to go to my chambers and bring me the papers from my desk?”

  “Of course, sir,” Ralei replied. It was customary not to ask questions; even if the request was vague, servants were expected to figure it out, driven by fear of becoming a nuisance or wasting a Disciple’s time.

  He moved quickly through the crowd, attempting to avoid being sucked into any other requests. Serving Arolo was, in his view, the best option in a grim situation. Most of the other Disciples were as merciless as they were mad. Arolo was different. Sure, he was mad, but not in a malicious way like the others. And he certainly had plenty to say about the others when he had had a few drinks.

  He hurried out of the dining hall and, just beyond its doors, passed the entrance to the dungeons. Ralei wondered if King Danil was asleep. An Honour Guard stood at attention nearby, his posture rigid, though his gaze tracked Ralei’s every step.

  Nope, nope, nope…

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  Ralei continued past a line of paintings depicting the Disciples, each crowned by an image of the Grandmaster seated above them. The portraits were crude, self-indulgent displays, with the Disciples posing in the most pompous ways.

  He’d love to see them burn one day.

  The final painting, however, offered him a small comfort—not because he felt any warmth toward Disciple Yvonne, but simply because it was the last one he had to look at. The corridor curved to the left, leading him toward Arolo’s chambers. Thankfully, Arolo’s quarters were the closest to the dining hall, sparing Ralei a longer walk.

  Disciple Arolo's chambers exuded an imposing spectacle. The ceilings soared high above, supported by thick, rugged wooden beams. Each one was taken meticulously from the Lower Realms, as Arolo preferred the rawness of their materials. As of midnight, these beams would become extinct. He did note one of the support beams splintering though, something which he was sure Arolo hadn’t noticed otherwise he certainly would have heard about it.

  The walls and floors were mostly covered in Sangur, a lustrous, bronze-like material mined from the depths of Pangar, a realm in the Middle Domain and one of Arolo’s favourite places to visit. Arolo’s furnishings, though sparse, were carefully chosen to match his tastes: dark, richly stained wood, intricate carvings, and heavy fabrics.

  Ralei approached Arolo’s oversized desk, a piece of furniture that, in his opinion, was compensating for something.

  Just as Arolo had said, the papers lay waiting. Typically, documents of this nature would be rolled up and sealed to keep prying eyes away. But for some reason, these lay open, for anyone bold enough to look. In large letters, the title read: The Convergence of the Last Two Remaining Lower Realms—those poor souls.

  He knew little about the people of the Lowest Realm, except that they lived beneath the Resonance, outside its reach. Their existence was so overlooked that the Disciples had never even bothered to govern them or draw them into the fold. And in the Disciples’ view, a realm left uncontrolled was one with no purpose—no need to exist at all.

  The papers outlined the plan to merge the two realms: a place called “Earth” and another known as the “Inferno.” Though the Inferno was technically governed by the Resonance, it was now set to occupy the lowest tier on the hierarchy.

  No Disciple had ever visited it—a realm where they exiled anything that didn’t fit their ideals, anything too unruly or too unsightly to exist within their polished domains. It was, in essence, a dumping ground for their problems, a place left to fester at the farthest edge. Its Resonance was also ill-defined, warped, and did not conform to the system put in place.

  Those poor souls.

  The people of Earth were about to receive a brutal awakening. Ralei skimmed over the plans, glancing through the rationale, the risks, and the so-called benefits. These people deserved a chance—deserved something. As he turned the page, his focus was caught on the section detailing the risks.

  “During the merge, both realms become susceptible to tears. Any tears can and will greatly slow or stop the merge. This risk is accepted due to the distinct lack of investment in the lower realm from other domains.”

  He frowned, his gaze shifting to another listed “risk.”

  “Anything that disrupts the Inferno’s balance or “status-quo” will either slow or stop the merge. Again, this risk is accepted due to the incredible unlikeliness of this occurring.”

  The cold indifference in the words struck him. In the Disciples' eyes, these realms and their inhabitants were nothing more than expendable—mere sacrifices to the convenience of those in power.

  He felt nauseous. He wanted to vomit. Years spent serving those who only seemed to serve their interests pulled him down like an anvil. These so-called "risks" were abhorrent, and something inside Ralei finally snapped.

  He drifted back over the document, ensuring he hadn't overlooked anything important. Amid the risks, he saw an opportunity—an opportunity to do something meaningful, to give the innocent a fighting chance.