In the days following the fall of Unity, prayers were cast from every open window, from the ruptured shelters in the hearts of the cities and from the broken earth of scourged battlefields. All yearned for saviourity, and none cared how.

One night a prayer was answered. The Great Moon of Frostfall descended from the sky, casting the lands beneath in a viscous darkness, so thick it is said to have blinded the faithless. When the veil lifted, the Horror was gone, and the ethereal, everlasting glow of the Southern Shrine bathed the lands in new hope.

And Cirus, the Queen of Frostfall, began seeking purity above all else.