The mage sat in the dark tower room, staring into a glowing crystal ball. The light of the blood red eclipsing moon trickled into the room slightly from the window. The signs the stars had shown had to mean something. The real question was what, and that was the task at hand.
The shadows crept around the searcher now. He paid them no mind. The ancient writings and prophecies all indicated these signs could not be ignored. They could not be ignored… but yet the old writings were not clear on what they meant. It was if it was something that the original prophets could not describe in clear terms or did not understand themselves.
It was the era of dragons. For seven hundred and fifty years, darkness had lingered in the south of the world. Only the mages of Tower Arcana kept the evil at bay, for this “Shadow Land” was a breeding ground for all manner of dark creatures. Thus the dragons were bred to help fight the evil… but now… something was coming… the signs pointed to it, just as they had pointed at the coming of the era of dragons.
A thousand images reflected from the light of the orb onto the glassy dark eyes of the scrying mage. Many of the scenes were recognizable to the mage, the short stout folk of the Ferral Mountains worked their mines and smithies. The wandering folk of the deserts of Troqua approached the city of Tulene; likely preparing to set up their trade stands on the eve of the great festival of fire. Then an image that both disturbed and intrigued the scryer came and stayed in the orb. A blue unicorn galloped across the plains carrying a young woman, fleeing from some one or something.
The mage frowns at the globe and watches the scene in deep thought, searching for answers. The shadows grow maleficent over him and he spins as he senses it coming, too late… his body becomes mauled and his life flees as the light of his dark eyes fades to black. The orb glows brighter for a moment until it too fades into darkness.