Thecclias offered his hand to Marchosias as they dueled, and what became of it would begin a series of events that would send echoes across the Realm. A simple belief in offering grace to one that was underserving. Marchosias would forsake his Patron, his own mother. She did not like that. A great battle would ensue in the garden of the Venefex's manor. A conflict of great importance. Enepsigos Almod, a being of great evil reigned curse-fire down over the Ascendant Steps. Great warriors responded decisively to the ensuing violence. The Gods were surely watching as the Incarnation of Desolation summoned rivers of blood across the streets. The Matron would prove an unrelenting force and slays three. In the heat of combat, the Gladiator would do something he never had before. A chant, a call, a prayer is made to the God of the Tempest. The clouds opened over the Ascendant Steps. Lightning crackles across a sky filled with a Heavenly Host of angels. Between blood shed and shared blows, the evil is miraculously fended off. The heroes would have success this day.

The lightning continued to dance across the sky. It beckoned Thecclias to come towards it, calling him to ascend. At the top of the manor lightning struck into his body. It danced through his veins and across his scaled being. Metanoia.

In that moment, the Dragonborn would be called to a higher purpose. To boldly chase evil and deliver justice, to protect the meek and innocent, and to defend his brethren in battle. Along with the purpose is a call. Seek heroes of all ability, ones that hold ideals of justice, tempered grace and mercy, and abscond evil.

The lightning would eventually surge to his back. It coalesces and forms into angelic wings made of pure electric energy. They shine with brilliance, crackling in the night. A boon from the God for facing the darkest of evils head on. The Wings of Fury came to be, and with it, the Alae Furia would begin.