A cold wind swept through the ancient stone temple, flickering the candles at the altar. The High Oracle, cloaked in tattered robes, stood before the gathered council. Her voice, aged and brittle, echoed in the chamber, as though carried by the very spirits themselves. "The time of shadow nears once more. From the farthest reaches of the Forgotten Lands, the Nightborn stir. The Dark Lord, Morvath, will rise again, and with him, the destruction of all light."

The council members exchanged uneasy glances. No one dared challenge the Oracle's words. Legends of Morvath had passed into myth, yet now they stood on the cusp of reality. In the village of Eldersglade, far from this council, a young boy named Arin tended to his father's farm, unaware of the destiny that loomed over him.