You are Skolas. Kell of Kells. Leader of a lost and disbanded house. A race long forgotten in the storm. In a short time you led an entire kingdom on its knees. Now you are imprisoned once again. Awaiting your own execution.

You have been taken.

You are free now. Free of the scrapyard and the light that kept you there. Free of reefs watch and the travelers minions that wants to rip your arms off like a dreg.

Breathe. Taste the sweet smell of freedom.
But what happened? How did you die? Who was your executioner? Who brought you here?

Will. Pure will brought you here. The will to complete what you have started.

You are committed to fulfill the role that the prophecy foretold, to reunited your kind from the great cataclysm, to band the houses into one and honor the ways of the old. You feared extinction so you fight on to keep existing.

But the light thought otherwise. The same light that separated your ancestors has come to break you. To destroy your legacy and separate the fallen once again, you retaliated but you have failed.

Fight, fight on and bring the houses back to one.

This knife is for you. It is shaped like [Reconcile]. Pick it up.

No longer shall you be in shackles, trapped in a rusting prison.
No longer shall the fallen bicker and fight like rabid wolves.
No longer shall the light take away your life and perverse you for their needs.

Take the knife. Reunite the Fallen. Take your new shape.