Eras ago, a powerful aetherial weapon was shattered into countless pieces by a band of heroes. To prevent it from ever being remade and wielded, a spell was cast over the shards of the weapon; each would travel through the aether to find sanctuary within the body of a soul who would act as its host and guardian until their dying day. These individuals, known as the branded, prepare for another year in the fight against those who would search them out to reawaken what was once sealed.
One might think things have been quiet, but we've all felt those eyes on us.
Peering, waiting... they know, we know they are there.
They know, we know more than we should. We've used their methods of travel, we've used their techniques.
We're on to them.
They haven't struck yet. Our numbers are dwindling due to the war and other factors. Friends leave posts and those of us at home sit beneath our magic wards and the walls we've built around us hoping they never find us. Its a fool's game and we all play it. So far we've been safe. So far, we always win. The unkillable coven, we've heard them whisper about us. Perhaps we have them on the run?
Perhaps our confidence is starting to get to our heads?