As the sun rose over the mountains, fairies harvested the morning dew that had settled onto the leaves. This was a morning like many others in this quiet, pristine valley. It had been nearly thirty years since terror ruled this land. Many changes had taken place in the aftermath of the revolt against Shadow’s Hand, whose leader was the infamous Zarcain. It was rumored by many that he had been vanquished in the great battle and that Shadow’s Hand was destroyed. All agreed that everyone stood united, vowing that evil would never come to power again. The truth most did not want to believe was among the edges of the light. Peering eyes watched their every move, plotting for when the time would be right to come from the depths where nightmares are born.
