1 Prologue

The night was black and cloudless, the trees swayed with the cool wind, and the stars sparkled overhead, the wolves of the starry mountains howled at the moon. It was a tranquil and peaceful night.

Yet there was an intricate silence in the air, in the snow, in the light breeze. Lord Aldric could feel it. The wind wasn't howling like wolves as it did on laefen nights. The snow on the tips of the mountains wasn't shifting with the voice of the wind, and the air wasn't bitter or cold, there was simply a slight chill in the air. All of this was quite peculiar.

Lord Aldric stood at the top of the Tower of Aeos, looking over the Starry mountains. It had been a long day; the surly dwarves had been complaining about mining payments. Lord Aldric's brother, the king of Mythfall, had been ranting about trolls on his northern borders, and the light elves were worrying about shipments from Thaelin of all things.

Lord Aldric heard the rustling of skirts as Lady Calandra ascended the spiral staircase. Her periwinkle dress flowing in the cool wind.

His wife's olive eyes flickered to the sky, and whispered softly, as if worried something might hear her speak. "The night is not as young as it once was, my lord, thou art weary, come and rest."

Lord Aldric sighed and looked at the sliver of moon. That is foolishness, they will come tonight. I can feel it. Blood will be spilt. There will be death upon this tower, and I'd rather it not be of the ignorant.

Lord Aldric turned to his wife, away from the stars. "Someone must watch the sky until dawn stretches its morning light over our land."

Lady Calandra turned on her heel and strode around the balcony in exasperation.

"Have Favian watch the stars for thee! Thou art tired! I shall-"

Lord Aldric held up his hand for silence. "I shall not hear of it."

A screech echoed over the mountains. Lady Calandra stopped abruptly as Lord Aldric unsheathed his sword. "Get inside." he said with utter calmness. "Give the sword to Favian. They are coming."

Lady Calandra looked to the skies and drew a knife from the folds of her dress. "I shall stand by thy side. I shall not flee like a coward!" Lord Aldric grabbed her hand. "It is not a question of cowardice nor bravery. They don't want me. They want the sword, and they want answers that I cannot give them, which makes them altogether more dangerous than thy normal foe."

There was another screech, this time closer.

Lady Calandra picked up her skirts and descended the staircase, jeweled knife still in one slender hand.

Tense minutes passed, the rustling of wings and cries of demons grew ever louder as a winged shadow circled over the tower. There was a crash as something landed on the roof. Clay shingles fell to the ground and shattered on impact. The whole tower trembled as a black wyvern dropped its rider on the rail of the balcony.

The rider was certainly not human. He was too tall, maybe eight feet at most. And his skin was blacker than night. His teeth were blood stained and chipped. His clothes were of dragon leather, and the boots had steel toes. He wore a helm that seemed to radiate fear, carved into a wyvern skull. His gruesome, distorted face was covered in blood, with dagger-like horns that grew above his eyebrows.

Aldric drew a knife from his belt and threw it at the rider, ink-black blood dripped from his cheek where it had sliced open his skin. The rider didn't even notice.

"Where is it?" he snarled. "WHERE IS IT?!" He drew his sword and pointed it at Lord Aldric.

"Gone." Aldric said quietly. "I know what thou seek, Ciaran. And I know what thou will do to get the answers that gnaw at thy very being." Lord Aldric stood up and walked calmly over to face the demon.

Ciaran laughed - a horrible sound that made the very stones cry. "I am not the one that needs to succeed. There are greater beings in this pitiful land that control all but fate at the flick of a finger. The one who can alter the very fabrics of this realm, shifting mountains and drying oceans. The Great One stirs."

Lord Aldric stood so close to the demon that he could feel the icy cold that surrounded his shadow-wrapped body. Whispering so softly that only Ciaran would be able to hear if there were other beings upon the tower. "Thou art too late, thou shall never succeed. The gods and I have foreseen it."

"Thou lie, old man," he growled. "I have armies from the darkest realms, my master controls foes thou couldn't even dream of." Ciaran slashed his sword at Lord Aldric, and ruby blood blossomed on his pale, moonlit face.

Lord Aldric didn't even wipe away the blood, he just grabbed Ciaran at the neck and whispered, "Tell the Emperor this," He looked straight into the demon's bottomless eyes. "Tell him to go back to whatever hellhole he came from."

Ciaran growled menacingly, throwing Lord Aldric to his knees.

Lord Aldric simply smiled, a horse whinnied in the distance. "He has gone, by sunrise, he will be out of the mountains." Blood dripped down his face. "Thou shall not win."

With a roar, Ciaran stabbed him through the heart. "We shall see." he growled to the night.