The valley of Oakhaven was tearing itself apart. The mechanical, deafening scream of the overloading Forge buried miles beneath their boots vibrated through the very marrow of their bones. The magnificent World Tree was actively dying, its silver leaves turning a diseased gold before plummeting to the ash covered ground.
Valeria stood on the wooden porch, her glowing amethyst eyes locked onto the panicked, terrified face of the God of Knowledge. The Reclamation Campaign was completely finished in the physical world, but the King of the High Pantheon had laid a trap in the very architecture of the planet.
