It began, as these things always do, with a rumor. A whisper carried on the trade winds from the newly established mining colonies of Veridia. They spoke of a vein of obsidian unlike any seen before, one that seemed to… resonate. Initially dismissed as the fevered imaginings of men exposed to the desert's harshness, the reports persisted. Baron Volkov, a man of unsettling calm and unnerving wealth, took an immediate interest. He dispatched a small expedition, ostensibly to assess the mineral’s potential for weaponry, but the reports that followed spoke of a shifting darkness, of glimpses of faces within the stone itself. The first ‘Shard’ was discovered – a fragment of pure, pulsating obsidian, radiating a cold that chilled the bone. Volkov, through a complex web of intermediaries and carefully placed bribes, secured exclusive rights to the mine, christening it "The Serpent's Eye."
The initial analysis was baffling. The obsidian wasn't simply dense; it seemed to absorb light, to warp space within its depths. Dr. Silas Blackwood, a disgraced physicist obsessed with theories of dimensional resonance, was brought in. He quickly became convinced that the Shards were not merely geological formations but portals, echoes of realities beyond human comprehension. He began to speak of "harmonic distortions" and "chronal bleed," terms that were met with scorn by the Royal Geological Society but were taken seriously by Volkov.
Volkov, emboldened by the Shards’ increasing influence, began to consolidate his power. He established a secretive council, composed of prominent industrialists, disgraced military officers, and individuals with a demonstrable aptitude for… unconventional thinking. They called themselves the ‘Council of Shadows,’ a name that hinted at their true purpose. The council’s activities were shrouded in secrecy, but rumors circulated of strange rituals performed within the Serpent's Eye mine, of attempts to ‘harmonize’ the Shards’ energy. The council's influence extended beyond Veridia, subtly manipulating governments and economies across the globe. Their motives remained obscure, but it became clear they weren't simply seeking wealth or power; they were pursuing something far stranger – a way to reshape reality itself.
Professor Alistair Armitage, a brilliant but eccentric chronobiologist specializing in temporal anomalies, disappeared during an expedition to Veridia. Armitage had been invited by the Council of Shadows to study the Shards’ effects on human perception. He was last seen entering the mine with a contingent of Council security personnel. His disappearance was officially classified as a ‘tragic accident,’ but whispers persisted that he had stumbled upon a dangerous truth – that the Shards weren't merely portals to other realities but to other *times*. A coded message, discovered within Armitage’s abandoned laboratory, confirmed his suspicions. It detailed his discovery of 'chronal echoes' – fragmented moments from the past and future bleeding into the present, distorted and terrifying. The message ended with a single, chilling sentence: “They are not merely observing; they are *participating.*"
The ‘resonance’ emanating from the Shards has intensified dramatically. Temporal distortions are becoming more frequent and more pronounced. Entire cities experience brief, unsettling shifts in time – moments where the past and future bleed into the present. The Council of Shadows, now numbering in the thousands, has established a global network of observation posts, using the Shards to predict and, some believe, manipulate these temporal events. The line between reality and illusion has become increasingly blurred. The world is on the brink of collapse, not due to war or famine, but due to the relentless, insidious influence of the Obsidian Throne. The question isn't whether the Council will succeed in reshaping reality – it’s whether humanity will even remember what reality was *before*.