Adrius stood before the window of his chamber in the tower. The storm outside painting streaks of silver and shadow across his face.
He had been in that same position for nearly half an hour, unmoving. His eyes locked on the darkened sky.
Rain lashed violently against the glass, branches bent under the force of the wind, and thunder grumbled endlessly beyond the hills.
Yet his mind was elsewhere, deep within the maze of possibilities that none of his knowledge could explain for now.
Just a few days earlier, he and Lysander had finished their meeting with King Aethor and the council of generals.
That discussion had stretched into long hours, filled with tension and debate.
Adrius, as the Archmage of Astoria, had made it his duty to ensure that preparations for the coming calamity were absolute.
He knew the entity's awakening in the outer worlds would soon ripple into their world and the disaster it brought would not be small.
