The forest was thick with shadows, shrouded in the mist of early dawn.
Beneath the ancient oaks and twisted roots, smoke curled from campfires.
Beneath the canopy, the last free human tribes had gathered in secret.
Warriors, elders, seers, and chieftains of many bloodlines stood or sat in a rough circle, many of them eyeing one another with suspicion.
Old enemies were now forced into a single alliance… but desperation was a powerful glue.
At the center of the gathering sat a dark-skinned chieftain wrapped in lion pelts, his eyes bloodshot with fury.
"That bastard, Herios," he spat, slamming his fist against a flat stone used as their makeshift table. "He claims unity, but all he's brought is tyranny! He forces any humans who dared not submit to him to their knees!"
"He is blessed. Not even the sun burns without his word," growled another. "He controls the rivers, the crops, the winds… What kind of man has that power?"
