Shadows moved. The air shifted. It was no longer clean, no longer whole. A nymph lad perched on the shore of the Sea of Mist, tossed pebbles into the water. It was a average day by the twisted Sea. The young Fae did not expect a large black shadow to appear, dragging itself over the lip of the cliff. He didn't expect more to follow, or the rotting smell of meat. His eyes widened as he scrambled to he feet and bolted away. And it was well he did. Pulling themselves up the cliff were thousands more of their beings. A ancient evil, their bodies a dark and rotting void. Their eyes maddening gleams of life. Maws were rough shadows, and their figures were globs of shadows and voids. Masses forming tall spines and claws. Moving from the Sea-side cliffs they moved into the depths of Spring. The Fae before them ran, leaving behind goods and homes and lands.

But some were not so lucky. The trees and pools of nymphs and dryads were rotten and twisted, their residents screams echoed for miles. Warning more to run. To flee. Those who fought were overwhelmed, their magic effective, but not against this number. Not against this relentless horde. The Spring ruler would not hear these screams as a small group of the creatures, taller and made of opal gems devoured him. Their numbers had been heavily depleted in the swift fight, but they had been something the Fae had not seen. For they had not walked the lands of the Fae since their own time of legend. In a distant kingdom, the most ancient of the Fae, stiffened and paled. Wardens of Summer and Winter, even those of Spring would hear the cracking and snapping as a barrier of shadow wrapped about the Kingdom of Fall. Falk was gathering his power, shielding his kingdom. The great sphere crackled and gleamed with dark light and a sickly green glow.

The protections had failed at last.

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