Obscured by the shifting forest, the Palace of the Shadow King wavers in the darkness, his intentions ensconced beneath its shroud. Gloom births deceitful apparitions of fortresses shining in the moonlight. Does he seek war or merely prepare for its inevitability? None have witnessed him since before the war began. Many prisoners claim to be his heir, but he answers them not.
Of all the shadows unknown, none is deeper than the blackened stone cathedrals hidden in Treeswell. Obscured by gloom and drear, a shroud of mystery hangs overcast on the motives of the Shadow King. Even among his many "heirs", none truly know what lies within his halls of ruin - or what horrors may defend them.
The heathen and impious seek refuge in his domain among the roaming trees, freely practicing their wicked rites under the gaze of their idols. Many pledge fealty to the Shadow King in cruel mockery of the dictatorial piety imposed by the Faithspire. Whether he accepts their covenant or not remains to be seen...
Surrounded by so much uncertainty in a time of calamity, it would seem the land north of the Northern Fires remains the only quarter yet untouched by SLAGG. But the leaves whisper...
What lies among the spears of pine and gnarls of blacktrunk? Fear, anxious ambivalence, maligned misgivings - or perhaps worst of all, the truth, when all is too late.