A shadow approaches Versailles in the dead of night...
The stars shine like flecks of ice as the steps of the stranger leave droplets of inky blood on the flagstones. He approaches the castle, wreathed in a heavy voyager's cloak; the glint of metal permeates the fabric, although it seems to be nothing more than dark cloth. A clockwork owl flies silently beside him on delicate wings, landing on his shoulder as he slumps against the wooden door, a hand clutching the deep wonds in his stomach.
The stranger lifts a gauntleted fist and pounds on the door with a wince of pain. The shadows curl around him as he does so, flowing from his dark blood and darker skin. When the doors swing open he almost falls, but an armored Archon catches his shoulder, bringing him through the doors with a perplexed expression on its almost featureless face.
As the dark stranger turns to the assembled sorcerers that have gathered curiously by the door, he is framed by the moon. No one can fail to see the perplexing phenomenon spreading across it, dark and ominous, like the web of a venemous spider.
There are cracks in the moon.
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