Long ago, the first Mage Queen wrote in her grimoires that the world was divided into 16 orders. On Earth, we quarreled and fought against one another for centuries—until the demons invaded and threatened to overthrow us all.

But our ancestors saved us. One mage from each order came forward, combining light and dark magic to suspend our city above the war that was ravaging the earth to ruin. We worked together to save ourselves even if we could not save the world, and now we must do so again.

Our city is falling—we now have proof of that fact. The fog is a symptom of our city’s failure, and a vision I received from our ancestors confirmed that truth. To make matters more dire, a demon was discovered within our city walls, proof that the creatures of the earth are able to reach us for our proximity to the surface. 

It is my belief that the Divine City will fall—that this glistening experiment in peace and prosperity will crash to the earth and be consumed by the demons who dwell there—unless we come together again and combine the magic of our ancestors to save our city once more. Perhaps even, the world.

I have consulted the grimoires for guidance, but they are incomplete. Whether by accident or design, the spell that holds our city is broken, fragmented. I can see the words spoken by our ancestors, but I am missing the items needed to cast it. And so we have convened the Ministry of Mages for the first time in our city’s history, and we have devised a plan. 

It has been decided that 16 emissaries, one from every order, will be sent out to the world below to discover the folds of their histories and remember their powers, their strength, the wisdom of their ancestors. The quest before them will be marked by difficulty, and I pray that the magic of our ancestors will guide our emissaries as they set out to save our city.

And so I have issued a missive—no, a plea—to the people of the Divine City, asking that one mage from every order step forth and kiss my gold ring, volunteering to return to earth. Each emissary will return to the city of their order, seeking the relics from our past. According to the mage Timeshel we will require one of every item on this list to save our city and it is my hope that we find those relics among the ruins of our past. 

If we do not, I fear our city will be yet another ruined city of the earth. And humanity will cease to exist at all.

There is no telling what exists in the world below—and what realities might face us there. I do not doubt the path before us will be met with danger, even death. But, as it is recorded in the grimoires, sometimes it is only in revisiting our past, that we can clearly see our future. Godspeed, and good luck.

Long ago, the first Mage Queen wrote in her grimoires that the world was divided into 16 orders. On Earth, we quarreled and fought against one another for centuries—until the demons invaded and threatened to overthrow us all.

But our ancestors saved us. One mage from each order came forward, combining light and dark magic to suspend our city above the war that was ravaging the earth to ruin. We worked together to save ourselves even if we could not save the world, and now we must do so again.

Our city is falling—we now have proof of that fact. The fog is a symptom of our city’s failure, and a vision I received from our ancestors confirmed that truth. To make matters more dire, a demon was discovered within our city walls, proof that the creatures of the earth are able to reach us for our proximity to the surface. 

It is my belief that the Divine City will fall—that this glistening experiment in peace and prosperity will crash to the earth and be consumed by the demons who dwell there—unless we come together again and combine the magic of our ancestors to save our city once more. Perhaps even, the world.

I have consulted the grimoires for guidance, but they are incomplete. Whether by accident or design, the spell that holds our city is broken, fragmented. I can see the words spoken by our ancestors, but I am missing the items needed to cast it. And so we have convened the Ministry of Mages for the first time in our city’s history, and we have devised a plan. 

It has been decided that 16 emissaries, one from every order, will be sent out to the world below to discover the folds of their histories and remember their powers, their strength, the wisdom of their ancestors. The quest before them will be marked by difficulty, and I pray that the magic of our ancestors will guide our emissaries as they set out to save our city.

And so I have issued a missive—no, a plea—to the people of the Divine City, asking that one mage from every order step forth and kiss my gold ring, volunteering to return to earth. Each emissary will return to the city of their order, seeking the relics from our past. According to the mage Timeshel we will require one of every item on this list to save our city and it is my hope that we find those relics among the ruins of our past. 

If we do not, I fear our city will be yet another ruined city of the earth. And humanity will cease to exist at all.

There is no telling what exists in the world below—and what realities might face us there. I do not doubt the path before us will be met with danger, even death. But, as it is recorded in the grimoires, sometimes it is only in revisiting our past, that we can clearly see our future. Godspeed, and good luck.