Bane may be gone, but the storm is ever present. The capital is shrouded in gloom, swarming with unspeakable monsters that lurk in the shadows, seething and scratching. Windows are shuttered on empty streets, and families huddle silently in the dark.

One such family has welcomed you into their home – but this is no cordial visit. This is your base of operations. You don’t speak to them or they to you, lest your plans be revealed - or further burden placed upon them to keep your location secret. You know nothing of their lives or identities, save the bleak clues revealed in the sad, tired eyes of their children. They move quietly around the house; whisper to one another; make soup and pray. You want to offer them your condolences for all they have lost, but the words stick in your throat. What’s left to be said?

Before you had returned to the town, Malcs had given you a strange talisman. An amulet of stone. You keep it by your bedside, where it draws your gaze occasionally. The Leader of Dragons had presented it to you gravely, as if he would rather not have had to do so.

“It is a dangerous path you’re taking - take this. You will need it. You will need me.”

You had taken the amulet reverentially, although at first glance there was little to recommend it beyond any ordinary piece of stone. “What is it for?”

“It is… protection. Don’t worry about it for now. You will… only be able to use it once. But you will know when the time comes. You will know.”

On the journey back to the town, Ahrenia has developed a strange sickness. Wounds from the confrontation with Bane have reopened, and she has been haunted by strange fits, broken up by dragging lethargy. She can barely summon the appetite to eat, but nothing seems to nourish her anyway. She’s hollowed out, weak – far from the heroic figure the townsfolk once revered.

Your hosts are too polite to mention it, but it’s clear that her state compounds their anxieties – this is supposed to be their great hero, and here she is, languishing in bed, the last of her energy spent on involuntary shivering. They are, of course, sworn to silence. The town must not know of her presence or her troubled state. They must believe she is well and ready to defend them. Isn’t that the unifying myth the people need – a hero who can carry their hopes and allay their terror?

One evening you approach Ahrenia’s sick bed. It’s been almost a week. You need a plan. Push forward, or at least push somewhere, before you succumb to the same fatigue as your fallen friend. She looks up at you from the pillow, her eyes robbed of their usual determined glow, her lips pale.

“I know where we can find the Gods”, she croaks, before you can speak. “Where you can find them. I know it’s time – I’m sorry I can’t be part of it.”

You hunker down by the bed. “Yes… I wanted to say I was ready. I can see that you are not. But the people need us. I’ve done this before – I can do it again.”

She smiles weakly. “Of course you can. But first we need to find the Millennium Tower. And for that you need…” she breaks to cough, wheezing with each inhalation. “You need a little assistance. Help me up please.”

You help her raise up to a sitting position. She closes her eyes and breathes in once, deeply, then exhales. Eyes still closed, she begins to speak.

“The Millennium Tower is where I… became who I am. It was there I was given my… powers. It was a place where the Four once communed, in the times they were in harmony together. Now they are back, it’s surely to the Tower they will return.”

You nod, remembering the arrival of Bane and the strange edifice that rose in the mist beyond. “How do we – how do I find it?”

Ahrenia chuckles a little, and sighs. “The path to the Millennium Tower can only be seen by those who are deemed worthy... you know, I can recall it perfectly. It seemed so impossibly old…”

Ahrenia begins to cough. You wait until she’s ready to continue.

“But I can’t tell you how to get there. So much has changed… I do know, however, that I found the path in the Ancient Sanctuary. It’s at the heart of the labyrinth, in the jungle beyond the town.”

You remember hearing talk of this jungle in taverns – and the ale-fuelled, speculative discussions of its malevolent maze. No one, once sober, would commit to the idea that such a place was even real – certainly no one who claimed to be heading into the labyrinth ever returned.

“What do we know about the jungle itself? Are there any reports?”

“Survivors of the jungle are just that – survivors. Truly, it’s something of a maze itself. The townsfolk suggested that it feels… ‘alive’. Like it’s adapting and twisting itself around those who enter it. As if it either wants to spit you out or swallow you completely.”

The notion disturbs you. Where the world has felt malevolent before, at least it feels chaotic – unaware of the horrors inflicted on its people. The idea of entering the belly of some unknown, sentient beast, hacking through the foliage in search of somewhere that might not even exist, isn’t appealing. But what choice do you have?

“I’ll do what has to be done. What if I’m not worthy, though? You said the path to the Tower can only be seen by those who are worthy.”

“You’re not,” Ahrenia responds, plainly. “Currently, I mean. Sorry. Nothing personal you understand.”

“Oh.”

“But you can become worthy. This is how I can assist you. Close your eyes.”

You obey, settling down on the uncomfortable floor. In the long silence that follows, you’re tempted for a moment to open your eyes… is she still…?

Suddenly, a blinding light bursts beyond your eyelids. You dare not open them now. Where are you? You feel yourself – or the world around you – spinning. A sensation of speed, distance, heat.

And then – snap.

You open your eyes. Ahrenia is on the bed – seemingly asleep. As if nothing has happened. But you can feel that some strange process has occurred. And just like that – you know where you must go. The jungle calls – the labyrinth – and the Ancient Sanctuary. It’s time.