They weren't heroes. Not yet. Novice adventurers, nameless mercenaries, young people with dreams of something more; they all shared one thing: the adventurous spirit and the inexperience that comes with it. A welcoming tavern. A comfortable inn. A camp in the middle of nowhere. Someone knew they'd let their guard down. Now they wake up in a place they don't recognize, and the rumors about disappearances are no longer just rumors.

The Brass Spire is one of the many clandestine prisons scattered throughout Elyssia. It doesn't appear on any official map. Above it, a city goes about its life, oblivious to the horrors lurking below: workshops, warehouses, bars, and shops camouflage the entire subterranean complex. Someone looked at the wrong person. Someone used magic without thinking. Someone talked for a meal. Now, stripped of their belongings, the adventurers await a trial in a cell, a trial they already know will be rigged.

Misfortune spares no adventurer. They had barely begun—barely set foot on the path that would become their story—when they found a wounded man abandoned not far from the main road leading to a small village. A strange artifact, recently grafted under his skin. A potential adventure when they least expected it. The question isn't whether to help, but what price they will have to pay for discovering that the rumors are true.