The tales of barbarians are full of bitterness, their eyes full of despair as they look upon invaders. What can a handful of brave men do against a horde blinded with madness? How can a sentenced man oppose fate’s judgment?

The efforts of the mythical Whisperers were in vain, and their sacrifice was no use. Plagues fell on humankind one after another. The Horrors fell under the spell of Chors, and only a few remained loyal to Veles. The tribes, plunged into endless wars, abandoned their faith in the Old Gods, and blamed them for all their misfortunes.

In the eyes of the humans, Dolya was the most dreadful of all deities because she turned them into wraiths and trapped their souls so they could not flee to the boundless skies.

The artifacts vanished from the face of the Earth, expelled from settlements with the Whisperers, devoured by beasts, dragged into the mud, and were otherwise hidden from human sight.

So, the hope for miraculous salvation has died.

The ages of worship, faith, tales, and spells were all over.

It was time for iron, arms, writings, and intrigue.