After dealing with the traitorous Bitebane and informing New Gaaldron of his actions, Chancellor Areko returned to Gaaldron and brought with him the trade treaty from Travance. Gaaldron's army would march to join the Heroes’ fight for the future of the world against the threat of Necrophitus. Having achieved at least a tenuous peace with the northern Empire, Kormyre could rest at ease, preparing themselves in the calm before the storm that would be assaulting the Chaos Wastes.

But perhaps not all threats to order are external.

Hadn’t the delegation mentioned caravans lost in the Great Rift? The whisperings among the people grew to cries of fear and confusion. Where were their expected shipments? News and travellers from the mainland? Their loved ones, returning from Greater Kormyre?

Still on their voyage, the Riftguards and the soldiers would say. But the people knew what that really meant — lost to the tunnels, destroyed by the monstrosities, trapped in the cursed terrain… in other words, never to be seen again. It happens every so often; the people who choose to cross the Rift are well aware of the potential risks involved. But then… days. Weeks. Months. Had anyone actually heard of a caravan that had crossed the Rift yet this moon? This season?

There must have been survivors somewhere. Someone who’d seen what manner of horror had been causing these tragedies. But strangely, no one knew where they might be. The hospices and healing houses were no more full than usual. The graveyards saw no new markers.

Perhaps there were no survivors after all.