The Vision of Jaihim Karedim

On the night when black clouds covered the sky and the stars went dark above the black temples of Decay, Jaihim Karedim remained alone before the altar of the Great Lord.

Usually, silence reigned in this place. Not peace, but silence itself: heavy, oppressive — the kind in which even one's own breathing seemed like a sin that disturbed the quiet stillness. Karedim loved it. In that silence, it was easier to hear the Great Lord.

But that night, the silence cracked like a fragile eggshell.

First, the flames of the black candles trembled. They stretched upward in thin green tongues and began to flicker nervously. Then the stone floor beneath his feet gave a dull thud from below and began to vibrate, as though somewhere deep beneath the earth an enormous heart had awakened.

Karedim raised his head toward the idol of the Great Lord, a tall, faceless figure carved from black onyx. This was the form in which the Great Lord appeared to him — or Decay, as he was called throughout many lands — and at that very moment, pain split Karedim's mind as though a thousand suns had exploded inside his head. He clutched his head and staggered...

And with the pain came visions.

He saw mountains. The sharp outlines of stone giants piercing the clouds, standing like an enormous, impenetrable wall. It was unmistakably Dragon's Ridge. The great mountains where, one hundred and fifty years ago, he had first heard the whisper of his master.

The vision continued — sharp, clear, impossibly real.

Black cliffs beneath the snow. A sky torn open by a green glow. Wind carrying snow and tiny grains of ice. And amid that radiance stood an enormous Flur crystal of an incredible color, so vast that it could rival the towers of smaller citadels.

Something moved inside the crystal...

Karedim could not see what it was, but the power that came through the vision was so overwhelming, so commanding, and above all so familiar that even the stone idols within the temple seemed to bow their heads.

Jaihim Karedim fell to both knees.

Not from fear. Fear had long since lost its power over one who had devoted himself to Decay. He fell out of reverence, out of terrible joy, out of absolute certainty that the Great Lord himself had touched his mind.

“The Lord calls to me,” Karedim whispered.

The words were quiet, but the temple seemed to answer them. The shadows on the walls trembled, the green flames rose higher, and somewhere beneath the altar, the stone let out a long, low groan.

That same night, throughout the lands of Decay, priests awoke with blood on their lips. Knights rose in dark chapels only to immediately fall to their knees. Those standing watch raised their heads to the sky and saw a green glow tearing through the darkness. Necromancers heard the same deep voice calling to them in their dreams.

Some saw mountains in their visions.

Some saw green light spreading across white snow.

Some saw an enormous shadow within the radiance.

But every one of them knew: the Great Lord had revealed his will.

By morning, Karedim's command had spread throughout every fortress of the Servants of Decay.

Gather the armies.

Raise the banners.

March to Dragon's Ridge.

The Servants of Decay answered the call of their lord.