The Sunken Karthax

Prologue

The Sunken Vault of Karthax stirs after three centuries of silence. Deep beneath the crumbling fortress of Thornhearth, sealed chambers tremble and fracture. Faint lights—sickly blue and violet—glow through fissures in ancient stone, and the air carries the low, resonant hum of dormant magic waking. The tremors have grown more frequent, more violent. Scholars whisper that the vault's structural integrity fails with each passing day. Above ground, a plague spreads like wildfire through the villages and townships surrounding Thornhearth. The sick cry out for mercy that never comes, and healers stand helpless as another generation withers. But there is hope—or so the stories say. The Codex of Karthax, locked away in the vault's heart, is said to contain the cure. The Thornhearth Consortium has posted a bounty for those brave or desperate enough to descend. Yet the vault is not empty. Corrupted constructs still guard its passages, animated by centuries of warped magic. And in the shadows, a cult of shadow-worshippers has found their own way inside, seeking to reach the vault's heart first—not to heal, but to awaken something ancient and terrible. Time runs short. The vault trembles. And somewhere in the flooded darkness below, the Codex waits, guarded by horrors both mechanical and human. Your descent begins now.