Somewhere over the rough ocean waves, across the burned and blackened landscape of atrata. Through the peachy pink and orange forests of the hinterlands. At the foot of the farcaster peaks sits a small farmstead on a spring evening.
Inside the farmstead a human famer by the name of Morgan is putting his children Sindy and Aaron to bed
“Dad, dad!” Aaron interrupts, tugging at his father’s sleeve. “Is there any way for Orcus to come back? After Arrako the Pure banished him?”
Morgan’s face grows serious. “Well now, that’s a darker question than usual. The old methods of summoning such beings… those secrets have been lost to the sands of time, thank the gods.”
“But someone must know,” Sindy presses, eyes wide with curiosity.
“There is one who might,” Morgan admits slowly. “Kyoss, the Keeper of Ancient Knowledge. An immortal being older than kingdoms, older than some say the world itself. They say Kyoss has witnessed every age, remembers every forbidden ritual, every lost spell.”
“Where does Kyoss live, not somewhere the baddies can go?” Aaron asks, leaning forward.
“Not to worry, little ones. Kyoss dwells in The Shadowfell, a place far from our world.”
“What’s the Shadowfell?” both children ask in unison.
Morgan settles back in his chair. “The Shadowfell is a dark reflection of our world. Imagine if you took all the color and warmth from Darrathen, all the joy and light, and left only shadows and echoes. A gray, gloomy realm where the sun never properly shines. Time moves strangely there, and the very air weighs heavy with sorrow.”
“Can people go there?” Sindy whispers.
“In the old days, yes. There were portals called Waywards - ancient doorways between worlds. Sometimes stone arches covered in runes, sometimes its a old well at midnight, hidden in forgotten places. Step through one, and you’d find yourself in that twilight realm. But most Waywards were destroyed centuries ago. The wise folk of old decided some doors were better left closed.”
Morgan pulls the blanket up around his children. “The Shadowfell isn’t a place for children’s stories or curious minds. It’s a realm of despair and darkness, home to creatures of shadow and the restless dead. Best to let it remain in tales and leave Kyoss to their ageless watching.”
“But what if someone found a Wayward?” Aaron asks sleepily.
“Then they’d be a fool to step through,” Morgan says gently, kissing each child’s forehead. “Now, enough dark tales for one night. Dream of sunshine and spring meadows instead.”