The day had begun. Gray skies told of a day as ordinary as any other, but the earth told of a different matter.

Prologue: where Crough takes on a heavy burden with a new reality

Morning fog tumbled into a deep valley of the Oorun Mountains. With frothy hands, he poured down the rough cliff sides. His long white beard snagged along the wiry stems of northern mountain root, coating their golden leaves in white mist. The trail he left behind was soft and gray, that scattered in the whispers of wind. The fog was an old, frail thing, that cowered before tufts of green grass, thinking them to be giants. But rain drops can turn into a mighty storm if left alone, and clouds were brewing in that dark green valley.