The Holy man Marcus Alanda, High Bishop of Norivika, watched the storm rise over the quiet sea. The fury of the tempest and the suddenness of its approach made him wary. The thick black thunderheads rolled steadily northward. Then the leading edge of dark clouds dissipated, turning into gentle mists.
It was the sign. If the storm had been natural, the barrier surrounding Norivika would have had no effect. Evil was awake in the realm.
Marcus opened the old book and read the first paragraph.
In the perfect emptiness, a sphere was formed. And within the sphere, the races were born. The creation was perfect, and the creator was perfection. The sphere existed in balance, in harmony, and for the eyes of the creator. For its existence was beauty. It's purpose was beauty.
Marcus's heart ached with the truth of those words, a truth that no longer existed. The creation had a flaw. A crack had appeared in the structure of creation, giving birth to the Abyss. And the Abyss had given birth to evil.
