Far away, in the cold, gray city of Tenebrae, where light was scarce and silence screamed louder than noise, a figure known as Cagliostro roamed the streets like a shadow made flesh. The people of Tenebrae had no legends of heroes. No one saved others, and no one dared dream of a different life. Yet, whispered on the edge of fearful breaths, tales of Cagliostro carried from one huddled figure to another in secret alcoves and alleyways, tales that drifted on smoke from hidden fires and written on walls in symbols only a few could read.
For Cagliostro was no man, some said, but a sorcerer, a renegade of the ancient world who kept the last embers of magic burning in his soul. He had seen the sun, they whispered, an orb that once hung high in a distant world, one not veiled in perpetual shadow. Though the Empire forbade all relics and memories of that world, Cagliostro defied them. His eyes were said to reflect colors unseen, to flicker with a flame that only a free soul could recognize. And that made him dangerous.
The Pact of the Ashen Tower
One evening, while shadows pooled like black rivers through the streets, a rumor spread through Tenebrae's underworld. It was said that Cagliostro had entered the Ashen Tower - the Empire's looming fortress, known for swallowing men whole and returning them broken or worse. No one escaped the Ashen Tower unmarked, yet Cagliostro strode through its iron gates without a backward glance, daring its dark halls to devour him.

Bathed in a beam of otherworldly light, Xanthus stands ready, his sword held high as destiny calls him to face the unknown.
Inside, Cagliostro faced the Lords of Night, a council of masked rulers whose sorcery was bound not to nature, but to machinery and death. In their cold, mechanical gaze, they told Cagliostro that his defiance would end. The Lords demanded a pact: the sorcerer's power in exchange for the survival of the people he secretly aided. Cagliostro, however, was no mere rebel, and he did not fear the death the Lords wielded like a sickle. He stared into their lifeless eyes and spoke of a vision - a world of freedom, where the sun burned bright and strong.
The Lords laughed, a hollow sound that bounced from iron walls. "The world you speak of is dead," they hissed. "The sun died, Cagliostro, just as hope will die with you."
But the sorcerer was unfazed. He lifted a single hand, and the flames of his palm flickered into a radiant, strange light - one that sent a tremor through the council's stoic forms. In that instant, Cagliostro revealed the truth: though the sun had fallen, there remained another flame, a hidden fire buried beneath the city, forgotten by all but him.
The Betrayal
Upon hearing of the hidden fire, the Lords of Night quickly plotted. They proposed an alliance: "Lead us to this fire, Cagliostro, and we shall give you and your people a place in our kingdom. No longer will you hide in the shadows."
Cagliostro, however, saw through their empty words. But he also knew that if he could not destroy the Lords outright, he could perhaps set a trap of his own. And so he struck a devil's bargain. He would guide them to the flames beneath Tenebrae in exchange for their promise to end their tyranny and allow the city's people their freedom.

In an atmosphere thick with anticipation, she stands as a sentinel of strength and courage, her sword and shield reflecting her readiness to embrace whatever trials may come her way amidst the encroaching mist.
Days later, Cagliostro and the Lords descended through the catacombs beneath Tenebrae, venturing into the darkness few had ever survived. The tunnels were lined with ancient symbols and filled with the scent of ash and damp earth. Cagliostro's magic lit their way, casting wild shadows on the walls as they ventured deeper, until at last, they arrived at the heart of the underground.
In a chamber carved from ancient stone, they found it: a pulsing core of red and gold, the last flame, radiant as if it held the memory of the sun itself. But the Lords of Night did not see a future of freedom in the fire. They saw only power and reached to claim it.
The Final Sorcery
Cagliostro knew he had little time, for he could feel the Lords drawing upon their dark powers, preparing to bind the fire to themselves. In a flash, he leaped forward, hands outstretched, and summoned every ounce of his sorcery, weaving a web of ancient words and power. He did not fight to save himself but to bind the flame to his will, to keep it from falling under the Lords' control.
The ground trembled as Cagliostro's spell filled the chamber. His life force became a conduit, a living bridge between the flame and the people he sought to protect. For a fleeting moment, he saw the future - a city of light, a world reborn from the ashes. He would not live to see it, but he could bring it to life for others.
The Lords, sensing the spell's terrible power, lunged forward to break his hold, but they were too late. With a final word, Cagliostro cast the last sorcery, shattering his own life into a burst of fiery energy that fused with the flame, binding it forever beyond their reach.
The Eternal Glow
When the echoes of the spell faded, the chamber was empty, save for the flame. Cagliostro was gone, his body dissolved into the radiant blaze. The Lords of Night, defeated and wounded, crawled back to the surface, weakened and unable to control the power they had sought. Without the sorcerer's magic to sustain them, they crumbled, their bodies turning to dust and scattering on the chill winds of Tenebrae.

The wizard stands tall in the midst of the inferno, his staff raised, ready to wield his magic against the fire and destruction threatening the land.
Above ground, a glow began to pierce the perpetual darkness. People stirred in their cold, cramped rooms, drawn to a strange warmth that seeped through walls and streets. The flame below pulsed with life, feeding on Cagliostro's final spell, and slowly, as dawn approached, the shadows began to thin. A sliver of light broke through the sky, weak but unmistakable.
The people whispered that the sorcerer had returned to them in spirit, a fire that could never die, a legend that would forever inspire rebellion against the dark. Cagliostro's name became more than a whisper; it became a symbol, a spark passed from one to another, a memory that no Empire could erase.
In the years that followed, Tenebrae changed, fueled by the flame of Cagliostro's sacrifice. Though the Lords of Night had long since fallen, the people guarded the flame, keeping its story alive. It was said that, in the darkest hours, if one looked closely at the flame's heart, they would see a figure - a man, smiling as he watched over his city, a hero whose spirit would burn eternally, casting light upon a world that once knew only shadow.