The Palace can't be found on any map. It can occasionally be sighted in the distance in various parts of the world, but it never seems to linger in one place for long.

Maybe the invitation was the final clue you needed, but you seem to have found yourself at the Palace one way or another.

Scarlet brambles curl around the towering spires of the Palace as light cascades across the gardens. The grey stone and ornate masonry shows little sign of weathering, with any cracks painted with gold.

Looming from the bramble-thorned hedges, beyond the gilded path, is an imposing set of gates. And behind them, a door. The giant stained glass window above it depicts a woman looking up at the stars in the night sky, a thread in her hands. Through her, coloured light shines into the Palace, sparkling off crimson carpets, tapestries and lustrous furniture.

It’s easy to get lost in a place like this. Unending hallways that appear to stretch and shift if you stare down them for a minute too long. It seems to be a quiet place, the only company being the painted portraits on the walls; however, soon enough many others will be arriving.

What you know, curious stranger, is that you are here for an election. The next Fate must be chosen by those who have arrived at this Palace; the people here will be your best allies, or your worst enemies; and there are people with very particular agendas at work.

You will need to network, manipulate, or fight your way to your goal, whatever that means for the future of fate. Just be careful what you agree to, or which contracts you sign. Who knows what the world will look like when you leave the Palace?

Everyone that has arrived for the election has been provided with their own bedroom. Luxurious four-poster beds and mirrors with golden frames. Wardrobes that are certainly too large for a two-week stay, and dressers with multiple compartments for whatever you desire. A comfortable room that is warm and inviting—though the warmth is not quite the same as back home.

The election begins, as it always does, with a banquet. Chandeliers hang over a long, mahogany dining table—the diamonds glistening in the candlelight. Gorgeous plates of food lie atop a crimson table cloth, golden thread adorning the edges. The head of the table, where you are sure Fate herself may once have sat, is empty.

The atmosphere is tense. A room filled with strangers—all with different goals, some of them conflicting. Some of the staff are cleaning and making sure the cutlery is neat. Some staff are stood waiting to greet a potential future Fate, all of them well-dressed for the occasion.

Are you ready, fine guest?