The messenger arrived at midnight, his body broken, his voice barely a whisper.
Michael was in his study, reviewing reports from the Alliance about the aftermath of the First Shadow's containment. The continent was finally at peace—or so he had believed. The knock on his door was urgent, insistent, and when he opened it, he found a young man collapsed on his doorstep, his clothes torn, his body covered in wounds.
"Michael Voss," the man gasped. "I bring word from the Alliance. The Final Order has emerged. They are the creators of everything you have faced. They are the ones who built the families, the Council, the Krovs, the Reaper, the Prophet, the Shadow King, the Syndicate, the Obsidian Hand, the Crimson Legion, the Shadow Syndicate, the Eternal Alliance, and the First Shadow. They ha
