SISTENE

It had been raining for days, for four days to be exact. Not that persistent drizzle that you might imagine; it was a full on storm raging out there. It was raining hard enough that a hypothetical person might struggle to make themselves heard over the relentless thudding of raindrops hammering against a hypothetical windowpane. And still it showed no sign of relenting.

It was a magical storm, clearly. Anyone with any shred of magical ability would have recognized it as such. In fact scratch that, anyone with eyes to observe, a concept of how storms were supposed to be and the base understanding of what magic is would have reached this conclusion. This storm was not being subtle. The dark clouds, that had blotted out the sun for the best part of a week, were tinted a vivid violet. The rain pouring from gutters and running down empty streets was white yet clear and here and there in puddles and rivulets were rainbows of colour flowing through it. Occasionally a discord would ring out; a peal of thunder before a bolt of harlequin lightning would strike. The light from those brief strikes illuminated the world even through the thickest blackout curtains and eyes scrunched tight. It was clearly a magical storm anyone could see that. But there was only a handful of people who could have even hazarded a guess as to the why, and to what was to follow.

On the fourth day of the storm, if anyone had been studying the endless violet clouds that hung above they might have noticed something, a shape off in the distance to the west, out over the unknown. By the morning of the fifth day of the storm it was undeniable. It was massive, it was seemingly made of light, a huge white shape. It was faceless, motionless, but somehow undeniably aware if not exactly alive. There were whorls and spirals, tentacles and a pair of massive outstretched wings, limbs that whilst they were distinctly countable gave a distinct impression of being countless. In some places it was golden.

This was a spirit, larger and more powerful than any spirit anyone had seen before. And most importantly: unbound. Ripe for the picking for any capable mage brave, arrogant or just plain reckless enough to attempt to bind this behemoth to their will. All across the Principalities ambitious, reclusive and ruthless mages began to stir...

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