The Emperor of Ash

 The Age of Kelril
Approximately 5,000 Years Before the Emrosian Empire

 

The Eastern Lands

Rain poured over the expanse of grasslands. Thunder echoed across the land. Heavy black clouds filled the sky, blotting out the light of the moons. Lightning lit the sky above the stone walls surrounding the sprawling City of the Plains. A fire raged at its center, spreading rapidly outward. People ran about in a panic in their desperate attempt to flee.

Atop the largest tower of the city the Emperor of Ash stood, arms raised toward the sky as lightning crackled around him. Flames danced about his fingertips as he cackled maniacally. As he brought down his right hand, gouts of flame burst from the ground below. One building to the north of the city remained untouched. Within its walls, deep below the ground, awaited those of the city the Emperor deemed worthy to survive.

Those that ran through the streets below had earned his wrath. He had built this Empire on the ashes of the previous, doing so again would be but a minor inconvenience.

A lone figure walked the streets below, unhindered by the walls of flame closing in. Their pace was slow and never quickened even as flames licked at the trailing hems of a dark robe. The figure sought the charred remains of those too slow to escape the fire. A dark hand extended in a warding gesture at each corpse. And each corpse withered to dust upon the figure’s passing.