When I created the Covens, it was out of necessity. Half of the Earth was swallowed by darkness. Cities disappeared into its embrace. Murder and violence became common, as did countless other acts of evil. The other half burned. Those cities never had the chance to become wicked. Their people were simply annihilated and reduced to ash. I was a child compared to who I am now. Young. Naive. A man who cared for little more than sleep and a warm meal. I did what work I could to earn my food, but I never cared for the people I hurt along the way. I was a problem left unanswered. Even so, it became impossible to ignore that the end was approaching. It’s frightening when you see the end and the jaws begin to close.

The Band of the Eclipse was not my idea. That honor belongs to you. You wanted to gather individuals strong enough to stop what was slowly consuming our world. To stop Hades. Persephone.

I didn't believe you when you found me. I resisted your words, until I fell victim to your greatest weapon. A single elf. How simple life can be when we choose to accept it.

Our actions saved the planet. Earth no longer burned and the blood had dried. With the aid of the Divine, we became the heroes who halted a tragic end. Yet that victory was not the conclusion we imagined. It was only the beginning.

In the earliest days, there were only three Covens as you know. The Hill. The Patel. And yours. Our Covens were little more than titles, worn softly and without understanding. We did not yet know what we were becoming. We only knew the threats remained. That if we did not continue to fight, our salvation would amount to nothing more than shallow cuts against the snake that is fate.

My Coven protected the lands long before we turned our blades on the Divine. We marched into towns and cities, offering security against the creatures that stalked beneath the moonlight. Your brothers and sisters gathered knowledge while the Patel wet their blade against those that hid in the shadows. None of us emerged unscathed. But as we stumbled, we grew.

The world knew us then. It knew our actions, our names. And it was the world that rallied to us, that joined our ranks when we needed it. Three families became many, bound by a shared purpose. Together, our strength became the medicine that would cure a sick world.

Things were different back then.

Now, the wars we fight are hidden in shadow, and I cannot escape the feeling that we have become the monsters of this bright world. Every action we take invites reaction, and it is never our forces that pay the price in blood. It is the people we protect. I pray for their forgiveness when they learn why they had to die. I hope that when my time comes, they see my efforts for what they were. I hope they see you as well.

I believe war is coming, brother. I feel it in the trembling soil beneath my feet. I hear the march of distant armies when I close my eyes. The song of war is a beautiful one, crafted to hide the blade it carries behind its back.

I pray you have gathered the magic you have always sought. That when the song is finally sung, and we answer with a hymn of our own, it is our voice that carries the furthest. We must not fall, Simu. We owe it to the dead, and to those who have not yet finished their dance. We owe it to those before us, to Johnathan. To Joris. To the Band of the Eclipse so rest their souls.

Be ready, brother.
Orion Hill