The Curse of Khar-Moth

Prologue

The Scorched Expanse burns. Rust-colored dunes stretch endlessly beneath an amber sky, and the air carries the scent of old stone and decay. For centuries, this forsaken land kept a terrible secret—a prison buried so deep that few remembered it existed. Khar-Moth, a pre-human entity of shadow and hunger, was sealed in darkness by ancient sorcerers whose names are now forgotten. But the Keepers who maintained the binding have dwindled to nothing, their order fractured and scattered. Without their vigilance, the seals weaken. Each night, Khar-Moth's influence spreads further. A phantom ziggurat rises from the dunes at dusk. Corrupted creatures stalk the wastes. The very fabric of reality bends under the weight of something ancient and wrong, drawing closer to full awakening. Survivors speak of overwhelming dread, whispers in forgotten tongues, and the sensation of being watched by something vast and hungry. Some say the desert itself is becoming hostile—that the land is being transformed into a hunting ground. The nomadic peoples who once thrived here are fleeing westward, abandoning ancestral territories. In distant cities, scholars and madmen alike sense the wrongness spreading from the Expanse like a creeping shadow. Time is running short. The true tomb lies hidden beneath layers of sand and failing wards, and only scattered fragments of the Keepers' knowledge remain—guarded by those too mad, too desperate, or too obsessed to abandon the search. One final choice awaits: the seals can be reinforced, binding Khar-Moth once more for another age of darkness and forgetting. But the price will be terrible. Someone must pay it.