Before the Hollowed, before the old empires, there had been a gate. Buried beneath the world, sealed by sacrifice and guarded by those who carried blades like the Sorrow Steel. But over time, those guardians were forgotten. The seals weakened. And the gate began to whisper. The Tear of Midnight was never meant to be a weapon, it was a key. One that could either lock the gate again or open it fully.
Jude didn't know which path he was walking. Only that time was running out.
On the final night, a scout returned from the east. He bore wounds too clean to be natural, and his mind was broken. He spoke only in fragments. "The Table... they've begun... the Hollowed are marching… Leonork will fall."
