Starfall Year 837, twenty-third of March. Darkness descending upon the West Mountains.
Since the first cluster of gloomy clouds appeared over the west, more and more thick clouds unfurled from the west to the east. The radiance of the setting sun was consumed by that ink dullness, leaving a few rays that dyed the skies a deep purple. And by the edge of the Dark Forests around the West Mountains, all magical beasts lifted their eyes to the heavens, as if having picked up some terrifying scent: thunder and lightning were wreaking havoc up above since some unknown point in time even as the dark clouds stirred.
