In the beginning there was peace. Prosperity. The fertile lands of Annwyn flourished with life; the trees, bountiful, bearing the most luscious of fruit. The forest teemed with life, and the streams ran cool and clear. The people of Annwyn lived harmoniously side by side; the gossamer veil that separated the two spheres allowed its inhabitants to see the mortal realm, yet protected us from man’s poisonous ways. Greed. Lust. Avarice. None of the mortal vices penetrated through the veil, for Annwyn was above all temptations.

But now all has been transformed. Annwyn is no longer pure.

I taste the changes in the mist which echoes through the now empty forest. I hear it whispered through the fog that shrouds the trees that no longer bear fruit. I feel it on my skin as I wash with waters that no longer run clear.

The dark times have arrived.

The time has come for war to be waged between man and the inhabitants of Annwyn. They seek a flame and an amulet, hidden away for centuries. Depending on whose hands shall fall these artifacts, will dictate what will come—peace or annihilation.

These dark times will see betrayals, deaths, utter blackness before the dawn of light might once again creep between the trees of the forest.

And during these dark times the sacred number nine will emerge, bringing with it the beginning and ending of all things. But there will be one among them, a Dark Soul, whose rise shall either be that of savior, or destroyer.