The kingdom of shadows stood in a tight-lipped silence, whereby the morning sun could not break through the thick and swirling mists hanging about the dark stone spires. The air was heavy, charged with echoes of victory and with the haunting weight of what was yet to come.
Arthur, Umbra's most loyal and trusted servant, stood tall before the assembled crowd of followers. His dark cloak billowed behind him as he spoke each word in measure, deliberate. Behind him stood the shadows of Umbra, cloaks shadowing their faces, but their stance unshaken. They had fought the gods and conquered, but over them loomed a different kind of peril-one that threatened to try them in ways they knew not.
"My friends," Arthur started off, in a firm, clear voice. "The time has come. Umbra's plan, our King's vision, it has come to pass. The gods are no more. But this victory is not the end. No, it is but the beginning of the real fight that is to come.