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The Emissary smiles once more, and this time his lips part, revealing white, sharp teeth. “Would you believe me if I told you this meeting was foretold? That I am here attending to matters of prophecy?”
An ancient hunger wakes in the tomb-colonies. A prophecy of the Third City unfurls among the ice and rock, and if the Lace-Wrapped Emissary can be believed, you are the fulcrum. Follow in the footsteps of the Priest-Kings. Tread the path of trust and hear the call of betrayal.