Date: February 12, 542 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
The Pyramid of Entropy continued its silent work of destroying everything that existed. Grak the Axe walked ahead, and his protective sphere, glowing with pure white light, cut through the grey fog like a ship's prow. The density of the surrounding environment was such that the energy maintaining the dome was consumed with a soft hiss, like the sound of water on a hot stone.
Suddenly, Grak stopped. Liana, walking at his right shoulder, instantly drew her needle-sword. Her "Guiding Branch" Spirit fluttered, detecting a powerful disturbance ahead that did not belong to the Temple.
From beyond the veil of decay, towards them, another source of power slowly floated. It was a dome of saturated gold color, under which knights in Rakesh Dynasty armor moved in a tight formation. In the center of the group towered a man with a face seemingly carved from cold marble. His golden eyes shone with arrogance and unshakeable will.
"Baron Kaelen," Grak uttered the name as if spitting out a bitter root. "I hoped this place would digest you before we met."
"Grak the Axe," the Baron halted his detachment ten paces away. His "Golden Aegis" touched Grak's white haze, and at the point of contact, the two spheres began to spark and tremble. "Your Order has always been distinguished by its knack for sticking its nose into others' affairs. But today you've gone too far. The Plateau of Fallen Stars is the Dynasty's interest."
The Rakesh knights—there were fourteen of them—instantly raised their spears, their tips adorned with gravitational runes. Soren and Thorn responded in kind, standing shoulder to shoulder with Liana. The tension in the corridor reached its peak; two groups of masters stood opposite each other, separated only by the thin boundary of their protective fields.
Kaelen carefully examined the Order's group. His gaze lingered on Liana, then returned to Grak. "Your detachment is thinned, old fox. Was the Pyramid not as hospitable to northerners?"
"My people know the price of duty," Grak boomed, not lowering his axe. "And yours, it seems, die from their own carelessness. We saw what's left of your Initiate."
Kaelen merely narrowed his eyes slightly. Julius's death was mere statistics to him, but the mention of it by an enemy stung his pride. However, as a Herald, he perfectly understood the current situation.
"Listen, Grak," the Baron's voice became dry and businesslike. "We both understand what's happening outside our shields. If we start a fight right now, our domes will destabilize. One accidental breach in the defense—and in a second, only piles of rusty steel will remain of our detachments. Are you willing to risk all your people for the dubious pleasure of trying to kill me here?"
Grak looked at Liana, then at the grey dust swirling beyond the edge of his sphere. He felt the energy of this place eagerly waiting for the moment the defenders' will would waver.
"A temporary truce," the Order's commander tossed out curtly. "Until we find a way out. As soon as the walls stop crumbling under our feet—our agreement ends."
"A reasonable decision," Kaelen nodded, signaling his men to lower their weapons. "The Dynasty knows how to value pragmatism. My 'Aegis' will move parallel to your dome."
The two detachments began to move together. It was a strange and frightening sight: two hemispheres—gold and white—merged into one elongated capsule of stability, inside which former enemies walked side by side, trying not to touch armor. A heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the hum of the pyramid and the measured steps of the knights.
Kaelen walked beside Grak, both Heralds continuously monitoring the state of the shared defense. Their energy now worked in a strange, forced resonance. Each understood: this truce was merely the calm before the storm. As soon as they reached a stable zone, the Temple of True Equilibrium would witness a battle where there would be no room for compromise. But for now, their common enemy was time itself, and it wasn't going to wait.