A storm approaches. Cold wind coming from the north; skies darkening. You feel it in your bones; it’s not long before rain starts falling. You look ahead to the hills- it can’t be much farther. Days of travel over rough terrain, hostile beasts, sleepless nights worrying about what you’ll wake up to. A stream up ahead to the right, you approach it, kneel, and take a drink of water. It’s biting chill gives you a moment of relief; you allow yourself to close your eyes and rest your soul for just a moment. Soon, you’re off, closing the distance to what you know has been your destiny. Years of torment, families ripped apart, villages devastated, all building the fire in your heart leading you to pick up your sword and boots and embark on this quest. You’d heard of the king, the ruthless king whose minions come by exactly on schedule to inflict whatever horrors they’re instructed to, however you’d never seen him. No one has ever seen him. He had become the stuff of legend; he was here before the world existed, he has been here since the world has moved on, and no one believes he won’t be here the day the world expires, however no one has seen him. Only the remains of his path of destruction. A land far away, stories are told of his legendary, isolated castle, a veritable fortress impenetrable by man or beast, accessible by all from land or sea yet still impossible to enter. Legends tell that those who step into it’s center are changed; beholden to a man with such power to turn day to night, to generate riches with the flick of a wrist, and to impose destruction with the quiver of a brow. But you are no ordinary man, you come with the conviction of vengeance for thousands of wrongs, a vengence stoking the fire of your soul and empowering you to overcome even what the stories conjured by your predecessors could not imagine. It is before you know it that the obsidian monument is before you, visible over the last hill. A path leads to it, a well-kept path, yet a path that may not have been stepped on for thousands of nights. What sorcery is this? A gate is before you, a gate leading to a bridge that is seemingly unguarded. You cautiously step through the bridge…immediately the heat and sulphur of the earth’s kiln is upon you- lava. You are standing over a waterfall of lava, as if the gods themselves dug forth this chamber and thrust the castle into it from above, a giant wedge penetrating the landscape. You quickly cross into the certer platform and approach the castle, defended only by a wooden door. Where are the guards, you ask yourself. How is it that I can approach this uncontested? Your heart races as you enter the castle; empty of all floors, seemingly deserted. In the corner, a spiral staircase, you ascend. Another empty floor, what is this? Up, and up, and up, you traverse many floors, each as the last but slightly larger. Your wind escapes you as you finally reach the top floor, and then you see him. A non-descript man, sitting atop his throne, in front of an empty banquet table, by himself, looking directly at you with eyes not of fear or anger, but dismissal. Now is your chance! You adeptly jump forward, one foot off of the front table, up the path, onto the higher tier, only steps ahead and your bloodlust can be fulfilled…suddenly, you’re stopped cold. Without even moving, somehow his magic has removed your weapon, your clothes, your food and potions, you are stripped naked. You gasp by the surprise, and before you finish your breath, lightning has been conjured from the sky; with a flash of light you feel the burn as his electricity nearly kills you. Charred and smoldering, you lay on the floor across the hall- you don’t even see that he is now beside you, your own weapon in hand. He brings it to your neck and leans down, whispering the last thing you’ll ever hear from a voice that has spoken to no man in millenia…”A storm approaches.”