He was Darkness. He was Pain. He was Hatred, he was Suffering, he was Torture and Malice and Cold and Death. His name, a name which none dared utter, was ever-present in all minds, permeating even the most secure, comfortable corners that they thought were safe. He was never gone from their thoughts; even in sleep, they dreamed of his terror.
He rose up out of the obscurity of anonymity, rose like a towering thundercloud that splits the sky with its sharp flashes of blazing light. They followed him, some because they chose to, others because they had no choice. Like the storm that follows the first mighty pinnacle of a looming cloud, they swept after him, destroying all that he did not deign to destroy. They thought him their friend, but he was aloof. They were pawns, bishops, rooks, and knights in a ghastly game of chess, and he was the grand master, caring for them only until he could use them for his own gain. They did his bidding without question, believing that he would act for them, not for him.
They killed on his orders, forced obeisance and deference, and all statutes of law crumpled before them, broken underfoot like shards of glass because no one dared try to enforce them for fear of retribution. Mothers hid their children before venturing out; fathers slept with their wands clutched tightly in their hands. It was a time of Darkness, of Pain, of Hatred, of Suffering, of Torture, of Malice, of Cold, and of Death.
But there were those who denied him…