Dark News
When the night came again they found him there, sitting alone in the door of the empty shrine. No whisper of the Prophet was to be heard, it was gone forever. Silenced.
The celebrations continued, though Ardri did not partake in them any longer. Too troubled was his heart over the words the strange Prophet had spoken. Words of doom and failure, but also of hope. He knew the monsters of whom were spoken. The imprisoned, the locked away. Chains shattered, bonds broken. If he took it as his duty to fight towards that last dying glimmer of hope, then it was certain that they would come for him. He would be the first to fall, as would any who took his place. To his side he called the Stone Crow, told him to speak to the dancing Faeries who had come to revel in the celebrations. To ask their aid. To watch and to prepare for coming trouble. Many were willing to help with no bargain at all, feeling generous after the dancing and the wine. It was three days of watching the celebration before news returned to him. He had been speaking to the wisest of the Fae who were there, seeking out stories and songs of the First Crown. But none knew its whereabouts, only stories. Then the Stone Crow sent word to him through messengers. A figure wreathed in Dark Fire approached from the distance. At his back was an army of monstrous things, nightmares, abominations.
