The Wizards of the Bastion believe the Sacred Flame was kindled in the last place anyone expected: the hallowed sanctum of the White Tower. Its first blaze—on the year’s blackest night—seemed utterly at odds with an order famed for purity and restraint. Yet the flame burst into being, and from the first spark it stood in perfect opposition to everything the White Hats profess to safeguard.
Whispers quickly spiraled into full‑fledged conspiracy. Records were scrubbed, witnesses silenced, and a new rumor took root: the White Hats had meant to forge a fire of holy purification but instead birthed a Profane Flame—an object of defilement and corruption.
The Flame's radiance was irresistible, drawing many Magic users to fling themselves upon it. Those who touched the flame found themselves engulfed and transmuted. The fallout was catastrophic. The flame’s true blasphemy lay not in its glowing light but in the shadow it cast. In the far reaches of the Nightmare Dominion, new, yet ancient now horrors stirred: the Lich Emperor Supreme ascended once more his ossified throne, while the colossal Zombie King rallied shambling hordes beneath a tattered banner. Ghouls, revenants, phantasms, and specters long banished from daylight began to stalk the living world.
Thus began the War for the Sacred Flame. Both the Lich Emperor and the Zombie King owe their renewed flesh—and the swelling ranks of their legions—to its forbidden power. Whoever commands the flame could wield armies vast enough to subjugate the entire Runic Supercontinent.
Battles scorch the land and innocents perish between clashing dead. True to form, the White Tower offers only silence. Even so, rumor hints at renegade White Hats working in the shadows, desperate to contain—or atone for—the monstrous fire they unleashed.
Featured in
The Sacred Flame
Elf J Trul
Featuring
The Wizards of the Bastion believe the Sacred Flame was kindled in the last place anyone expected: the hallowed sanctum of the White Tower. Its first blaze—on the year’s blackest night—seemed utterly at odds with an order famed for purity and restraint. Yet the flame burst into being, and from the first spark it stood in perfect opposition to everything the White Hats profess to safeguard.
Whispers quickly spiraled into full‑fledged conspiracy. Records were scrubbed, witnesses silenced, and a new rumor took root: the White Hats had meant to forge a fire of holy purification but instead birthed a Profane Flame—an object of defilement and corruption.
The Flame's radiance was irresistible, drawing many Magic users to fling themselves upon it. Those who touched the flame found themselves engulfed and transmuted. The fallout was catastrophic. The flame’s true blasphemy lay not in its glowing light but in the shadow it cast. In the far reaches of the Nightmare Dominion, new, yet ancient now horrors stirred: the Lich Emperor Supreme ascended once more his ossified throne, while the colossal Zombie King rallied shambling hordes beneath a tattered banner. Ghouls, revenants, phantasms, and specters long banished from daylight began to stalk the living world.
Thus began the War for the Sacred Flame. Both the Lich Emperor and the Zombie King owe their renewed flesh—and the swelling ranks of their legions—to its forbidden power. Whoever commands the flame could wield armies vast enough to subjugate the entire Runic Supercontinent.
Battles scorch the land and innocents perish between clashing dead. True to form, the White Tower offers only silence. Even so, rumor hints at renegade White Hats working in the shadows, desperate to contain—or atone for—the monstrous fire they unleashed.
