"When the 'Eternal Moon' fell, the heavens and earth were thrown into chaos." "When the 'Iridescent Moon' shattered, the crimson shadow sank into the abyssal sea." "When the 'Frost Moon' ceased to turn, nations faltered and fell into ruin." "The world, no longer sheltered by 'Eternity,' marches toward its final breath." "Until Elysium dawns and begins to turn the primordial wheel." Following an ancient prophecy, the descendants of the Golden City erected a lonely temple on the desolate tundra. For a thousand years, the moonlight had quietly streamed through the frosty forest. The descendants of the north still upheld their ancient rituals and faith, Forging pale ceremonial crowns from secret silver and choosing the purest Archpriestesses to guide their people. As in the days of old, they continued their prayers and chants, though their gods had long departed and the sky no longer answered. An outsider might regard these practices as the actions of the foolish, clinging to old, meaningless ways. Yet only those these prayers and sacrifices, passed down for a thousand years, could serve as emblems and signs for a people who had lost their homeland. The spindle-wheel of fate had rusted, and the silver thread had grown dim. Prophetic visions alone could not bring true hope to the people. "Who would worship a dead god, or endure such hopeless suffering for an empty dream?" Just as in ages and epochs past, now returned to the earth's depths through countless cycles, the ignorant continued to yearn for tangible guidance. Thus, those rituals had become their great isolation, a high wall keeping them unseen and unknown to the world beyond and its peoples. So it had been for a thousand years, and so it would remain for a thousand more, until the prophesied Elysium descended, Until the pure bloodline, refined through generations, produced the sacred heir who would make the world fall to its knees. And when that time came... All lies and sins would be forgiven, even praised, for they all served the pure Elysium beneath the moon. What follows is the sacred journey of the Frostmoon Scions, who have long ceased to turn outsiders away. The first Moonchanter, a saint graced by the divine and the one who witnessed the birth of a god, was once the mortal Aila. According to stories passed down by later generations, she foresaw the new moon's birth and, moved by divine revelation, chose to abandon the old rites. "She was the chosen one. Blessed from birth, a devout soul untouched by the sublunary sphere's countless corruptions." "She saw the spinning wheel's dead silence and the silver thread's despair, for a millennium of praise had become nothing more than a hollow echo." "The faded glory never once had pity upon the desolate borderlands. Now, only the new moon, on the cusp of its birth, held the promise of true hope." "Aila's devotion earned her the admiration of even the last Archpriestess of the far north, who opened her heart to her without hesitation." "She earnestly entrusted Aila with the authority to lead the people, and granted her the honor of sealing the ancient sanctuary with her own hands." "Thus was the old glory buried, the hollow titles and meaningless past cast aside. Now, they would await the advent of the newborn god." No one would again hold the title of Archpriestess of Hyperborea. Only the Moonchanter remained standing amidst the pure light. ... Countless moons rose and fell. Those who dreamed of Elysium found only the shadow of the axe, while those who longed for salvation were swept into by the flowing light. The mad monk who reached for the heavens lost his mind. The old master of the Pale Star throne is gone. The White Emperor fell into the churning black waves of filth. At last, even the nightingales fell silent. Countless names faded from the world beneath the moon, becoming echoes that the living were left thereafter to judge. As promised to the Torchforger, the new moon's maiden spun a prayer song and laid it to rest alongside the sanctuary. And until the Whitenight erases the final witnesses of that era, only the moonlight shall remain, flowing quietly even as it did a thousand years before. "When the 'Eternal Moon' fell, the heavens and earth were thrown into chaos." "When the 'Iridescent Moon' shattered, the crimson shadow sank into the abyssal sea." "When the 'Frost Moon' ceased to turn, nations faltered and fell into ruin." "The world, no longer sheltered by 'Eternity,' marches toward its final breath." "Yet, from the ashes, the 'New Moon' rises, its ascent spinning the wheel of fate anew..." "And those who follow the tides still sing their songs and offer their prayers." "For the new moon shall come, precisely as the ancients have foretold."