There is a darkness gathering in the skies above Amaranth. It is the ash of an ancient forest, set alight by the armies of man. It is the shadow cast by the wings of valkryn, foul creatures that feed on the screams of the dying as well as their flesh. It is the black pus that fills the lungs of plague-stricken beggars. It is the dust rising from an empty grave. It is the creatures that lurk in shadows and it is something that even they fear.