As she exhales, a plume of vapor escapes her mouth and drifts into the air, carried away by a biting wind. The sky holds the colors of a storm. Dark, rumbling clouds gather beyond the snow-covered peaks, as if furious to see them reclaim the fortress of Cebir.

The citadel is in a pitiful state, after three-quarters of a century of abandonment. Even before the official start of the Rediscovery Endeavor, Bravos and Ordis had tried, against all odds, to establish a glorious outpost here. But that venture ended in a regrettable and bitter failure, nearly convincing the Asgarthans that any lasting expedition beyond the borders of the Peninsula was impossible.

Basira surveys the courtyard of the outpost, her fists clenched on the half-rotten railing. With a kick, she dislodges a piece of wood that shatters into splinters when it hits the ground six meters below. She's restless, pacing like a caged lion. It's as if she's expecting fear to strike again, as if her instincts are warning her that the stillness of this place will soon give way to horror.

Kaizaimon slides across her skin, a living, shifting tattoo. He doesn't seem thrilled to be here either, in a place that once meant torment and torture to him.

Claws and fangs... The last time she was here, her Company was attacked by infernal creatures, monstrous hybrids that quickly slaughtered all her comrades. Basira clenches her jaw, on high alert. But it's been more than a week since they reclaimed the Cebir, and nothing has come to confront them or drive them out. The Kraken has fallen, and the Province of Caer Oorun seems poised to rejoin the fold of Asgartha once and for all.

‘What do you think, Kai?’

Her Alter Ego snakes across her skin, his face appearing on her forearm. The demon looks at her intently, his eyes white like milk.

Let my tormentor come. This time, we will know how to welcome him.

Basira smiles as her Alter Ego's thoughts drift into her own mind, like mist over a clear pond.

‘Yes, you will have your vengeance. As will I.’

After this declaration, the oni starts moving across her skin again, like a veil of pigments, throwing her a wild grin as he passes.

Basira gazes at the icy bay. Two Asgarthan ships are anchored among the icebergs, with a flotilla of rowboats and dinghies unloading their cargo in constant back-and-forth motion.

In the courtyard, Axiom engineers inspect their equipment, ensuring that all their machines have withstood the cold. Muna quartermasters have stacked barrels and crates of provisions, enough to supply the citadel and stock the expeditions that the Cebir will soon launch. Naturally, Ordis overseers are nearby, meticulously cataloging every resource.

The forces of the Expeditionary Corps have finally assembled, all gathered for a journey that might last months, even years.

Basira cracks her neck and breathes on her knuckles. She never imagined she would suffer so much from the cold. Even Kaizaimon's presence within her can't quite dull its sting. Age has obviously taken a toll on her once-unshakeable resilience. That, and living too long in a place that barely knew winter…

Someone's coming.

Alerted by her demon, Basira looks over her shoulder. It's an old man approaching. His skin is pallid—almost corpse-like—and marred with purple blotches, as if afflicted by a strange illness. His left eye is blind, marked by a long scar. On his shoulder, a shadowy bird with translucent feathers seems to envelop him. She recognizes them. It’s one of the Yzmir Exalts, a Battle Mage.

‘I suppose, as veterans, we’d better help each other’, he sighs, addressing her.

‘I don’t recall asking for any assistance, Mage.’

The old Initiate gives her a knowing smile while his grim companion croaks.

‘To be honest, it’s I who might need your help.’

Basira raises an eyebrow, somewhat surprised.

‘And what help could an esteemed Kadigiran Mage need?’

‘My name is Afanas’, he continues, sidestepping her question. ‘And allow me to introduce Senka.’

The bird fixes her with its unblinking eye, shining beneath its porcelain mask.

‘We’re not so different, you and I. And if what I know about you is true, our life paths are rather similar.’

Basira leans against the railing, which creaks under her weight.

‘Ha! So you've heard of me? Nice things, I hope.’

‘Nothing bad, at least’, the Mage replies, stroking his wispy beard. ‘My father was a Bravos. A Leviathan harpooner. My family was taken by the Kraken, just as yours was taken by Cingula.’

For a moment, Basira’s smile fades.

‘So you've accomplished your vengeance. Congratulations.’

‘Not quite, but we’ll get there. By the way, I lived here for two years, at the Cebir. And if I’m not mistaken, you set foot here during the last attempt to repopulate the outpost… The last survivor… We do have similarities, you and I.’

Basira doesn’t like where this conversation is heading.

‘Get to the point, Mage. Unless this is some pathetic attempt at flirtation?’

Senka spreads its wings while a red mist emanates from the Bravos warrior’s tattoos. Afanas, meanwhile, opens his palms in a gesture of peace.

‘During your visit, your expedition was attacked by creatures you identified in your report as Eidolons.’

‘And yet no one believed me’, Basira laughs bitterly. ‘They claimed it was all just cold, fatigue, and stress-induced hallucinations.’

Afanas' expression becomes intense, almost ravenous.

‘I believe your senses didn't deceive you’, he suddenly whispers, as if afraid someone might overhear.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I think the Cebir served as a base camp for a coterie who has been conspiring against Asgartha, for decades, maybe centuries.’

Basira frowns, suddenly suspicious. She sighs, looking at the icicles hanging from the bent gutters.

‘The laboratory stayed untouched.’

‘Yes, I went to see it. A magic workshop.’

‘Hmm. You’re searching for a traitor among you.’

Afanas sighs. ‘A traitor who has been active since before I was born.’

Basira sizes him up. ‘What would he be, over a hundred years old? Are you trying to enlist me into a greybeards’ brawl?’

Afanas just smiles at the provocation.

‘Mantichora and Khimaira.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Those are the names of the two creatures that were manifested before you. Two Eidolons that are normally bound by the Mandates of my Faction. Two monsters that no one should be able to summon.’

Basira’s expression darkens. ‘So you say my vengeance targets an Yzmir Mage…’

‘A renegade Initiate of the worst kind’, Afanas agrees. ‘I suspect he controlled the Kraken, using it to hide his blasphemous research; experiments he conducted right here. I also believe he caused the Tsunami of year three hundred and five.’

Basira feels a warmth spreading through her body. A crimson mist seeps from her skin.

Kai?

Afanas calmly watches the red haze. Basira senses that he’s using Alteration magic to summon a simple but sinister thought… A fragrance fills the air; a scent that doesn’t belong in these frozen expanses. The smell of a chrysanthemum bouquet…

Suddenly, Kaizaimon bursts from her like an enraged lion.

‘Kai!’

The oni swings his tetsubō, shattering the wooden beams of the walkway like brittle twigs. The metal club crashes down on the Mage, who summons a prism-like shield. The impact sends the railing flying in a shower of splintered wood.

Afanas leaps back, spinning in mid-air as his shadowy bird takes to the skies. He lands on his feet, instantly adopting a defensive stance.

The demon leaps too, tetsubō held high above his horned head. His entire body smokes and hisses. The spiked mass traces a glowing arc through the air as he descends toward the Kinemancer.

The latter dodges, and the metal club strikes the ground with a thunderous crash, sending shards of stone and snow flying.

Using the snow cloud as cover, the Battle Mage sidesteps. With a flat palm, he sends a force wave toward the raging Alter Ego, pushing it back.

Basira growls, dropping as the walkway collapses. She rolls on the snow-covered ground, rising with her sword drawn. She'd have much preferred to have her gauntlets, but the blade will suffice.

Kaizaimon is already lifting his spiked mace. Basira has been sending him calming emotions or shouting orders, but nothing seems to reach him. It’s as if all reason has left him.

Around them, the commotion has already drawn a small crowd. Ordis soldiers are seizing their spears and shields. Basira growls again. She can’t let this situation escalate any further…

The Mage blocks the tetsubō with both hands. The demon lets go of his weapon, lunging at the Kinemancer and grabbing him by the throat. Without slowing or loosening his grip, Kaizaimon slams Afanas against a stone wall. He lifts him up, mouth wide open just inches from the Mage's face.

‘Kai!’

Basira presses her blade to her Alter Ego's throat. Afanas grits his teeth, staring down at the demon.

‘I’m not your enemy, oni. But I know who is.’

‘Kai, let him go!’, Basira shouts.

I've got him in my hands, Baz. With just a squeeze, I could snap his neck.

‘It's not him, Kai. Look around you. Look behind you!’

The demon shifts his gaze from his captive. In the ruined courtyard, soldiers are pointing their spears at him, forming a tight semicircle. Above them, Senka hovers, surrounded by crackling violet lightning, ready to unleash a bolt of searing energy.

Kaizaimon sniffs the air.

‘A scent of chrysanthemums…’

Afanas allows himself a smile.

‘You've answered my question correctly. It seems your tormentor is also responsible for the death of my family. We have the same target, you and I; the same prey to hunt.’

Slowly, Kaizaimon loosens his grip on the Mage's neck and gently sets him down. The anger seems to have partially left him.

‘My apologies, Mage’, says Basira as she sheaths her blade.

‘It was I who provoked him. I needed to confirm my suspicions’, the Initiate explains.

‘With the scent of chrysanthemums?’

Afanas nods, massaging his neck, then sighs as he gazes up at the sky.

‘I call him the Chrysanthemum Cloaked Warlock.’

Basira chuckles.

‘I know he's out there somewhere, in the Tumult, plotting his schemes.’

‘And what are they?’, muses the Bravos.

The Mage shakes his head.

‘That, I do not know. But if I'm right, nothing good for Asgartha.’

He turns to her.

‘So, what do you say? Will you join forces with me to track him down together, or do you prefer to play the lone wolf?’

In response, Basira lets a broad smile spread across her face. Afanas nods knowingly.

‘May the best one win, then... I expected nothing less from a proud Bravos like you.’

Around them, life resumes in the Cebir. Their clash was just a brief distraction. There was still a lot of work to be done; countless tasks to complete to make the fortress habitable and functional again. Everyone, be they soldiers, masons, clerks, or chroniclers, was there to build something, to cobble up the future. But that was not her purpose.

She was there to destroy.

‘You have your own vengeance, Alterer. And I have mine. Only the future will tell who is more worthy of claiming it first.’

Afanas extends his arm, and his night bird perches upon it.

‘So be it. I suppose our paths will cross again, one way or another.’

The Mage takes his leave, giving them a slight nod of acknowledgment.

I think we've got some competition, Baz.

‘Good’, replies the Bravos quite simply.

For indeed, there was nothing like a bit of challenge to spice things up...

Abelen, daughter of the Bravos messenger Gusta Sundström, is celebrated as the most fearless explorer Asgartha has ever known. Accompanied by her Lyra boatswain Maya Vastag, she made her fortune by discovering an island far off the coast of the Peninsula and finding a new passage between the island of Suspira and the capital. This channel, which passes through the Undersea and connects to the island of Abelena, winds between the reefs and cuts the journey time in half. She used her wealth and fame to launch expeditions, particularly to the east, where she mapped new shores, which she named "Keleti". But before this incredible achievement, thought impossible in her time, she was the first, in 271 AC, to defy the terror of the Kraken by sailing for several weeks along the southern coast of Caer Oorun without encountering the giant squid. More than a hundred years before the launch of the Rediscovery Endeavor, it was her ship, the Stormward, that paved the way for future explorers. It was by relying on her maps that the Bravos decided to replicate her feat in 327 AC. With the support of Ordis architects, they built the Cebir in a frozen area, where the pack ice and icebergs could serve as natural defenses against attacks from the sea monster. But these defenses were not enough to sustain their position. After a series of attacks on the ships connecting the fortress to the Peninsula, the Bravos had no choice but to abandon it, as they could no longer risk further shortages or deprivation for the contingents stationed there.