~Prologue:

  The woods have been cold, cold for a long time. The War of the Divided Dwellers has taken a toll on everything that occupies the lands of Nyght, taking away all that was held dear to the people's hearts in the world. Death has spread throughout the springs, drowning those who dare to take a drink. The wind has ceased to nothing, leaving the countless windmills that powered the capitals as rotting memorials to the fallen and of the conflict that took place many years ago, with little to no improvement in the ongoing war. The creatures of this world have been altered by the evils of the Divided Dweller's War, being twisted by the magic and technologies that have contaminated the water. They have become desperate, afraid, and angry, attacking anyone they see as a delectable meal.

  Thoswe who cannot or will not leave their claims of land are either driven out of fear or are slain by the darkness of the woods. Most of the land has been abandoned, entire cities emptied by the ravenous creatures of the dark, fleeing to other lands to escape their deaths. However, a group of hunters, the Shrouds of Nyght, have dedicate their lives and their children's lives to abolishing the darkness of the world, to holding back the creatures of death to make way for the light to shine again. The light uncovers all, but are the Shrouds of Nyght prepared to see what the darkness hides?

~Chapter 1: A Boy's Trial

  I wake up shivering and alone. Looking around, I see nothing out of the ordinary. Dead trees, uneasy amounts of darkness, and the occasional windmill. I pick myself up with surprisingly large effort. I examine what I'm wearing in a nearby puddle, seing the new armor and weapons on my body. A purple scarf, a long sword, and the family crest on my leather-cloth armor on my chest, along with a satchel of rations. My father's work, no doubt. I look around again to see if he's peeking behind a bush or trunk of a tree, but I don't see him. Feeling a bit anxious, I hurry over to one of the windmills, trying to recover the lessons he taught me as a boy. What were they? Oh, that's right, something vague, like "Son, when you come of the age sixteen, you must learn to defend yourself and those around you. Understand?" Yes father, I would respond modestly, except he isn't here anymore. Dad...

  As I make my way through the ruins, I start to ponder why I'm even out here. What kind of person would drop a child out in the woods of Nyght? Of course, my father. The darkness starts to give me a chill down my spine, so I poke my head into the abandoned windmill in front of me. I yank my head out just in time beofr a group of crows flutters out of the broken window, nearly pecking my head as they went. My heart's beating too fast, so I go into the windmill to sit down. Failing to have a good grip to the window sill, I take a clumsy fall into the mill through the window, sending a cloud of dust up into the air. Eventually picking myself up, I notice a corner of a book cover next to me. Rubbing off the dust covering it, I make out the faint words of The Era of the War written across it. Being happy with my prize, I stick it in my satchel and venture cautiously further into the structure, avoiding the cob webs I can see. Mills like these are scattered across the woods, ince they were a source of energy for those before the war. Remebering the book I picked up, I flip open the cover and gaze onto the first passage. "The war has corrupted our virgin earth, spewing death and magic into the water supply, drowning the soil and all who feed on it through their darkness. The occupants of coastal towns and lumber camps are the first to fall, then those of the common farming village, and finally those who took refuge in the mills of the wood." Obviously being weirded out by the dark message, I close the book and tuck it back in the satchel. My father never told me about the Dweller's War, only saying that I shouldn't stick my head where it doesn't belong. Now that I think about it, he never quite explained how my mother died either. I decide to sit and look through the book again, seeing how my father left out some key lessons from my teachings. "Lets see," I whisper, flipping to the first chapter, The Peoples of Nyght. Sounds interesting.