XI.X: Apocrypha

TO FORGE AN ANVIL AS ABOVE… The chaos rises from the Pit. The self-made puppet masters clamor and flinch as Akrazul, cloaked in Azavath's bone, limb, flesh, and grace, ascends to greet them. The Daughters move to escape before the gathered clergy can block their path. As they turn, a voice scrapes through Besurith's…