PROLOGUE
Shapes and Shadows
It was a cold night, and the wind was blowing strong beneath the moonless sky. The trees were swaying back and forth, dancing in tune with the silent music and the howling of the wind. Beyond the trees was a clearing dimly lit by a campfire that did not give off any smoke and smell that usually comes with the burning of wood. A crack of sparks jumped and flitted around the fire casting a distorted shadow of the man sitting on a log of wood.
The man had a jet-black hair, black as shadow. His cloak was a shade of what was red, tattered, torn, and flayed around the edges. He had the look of a person used to waiting- a patience so deep that came from enduring many things. It was in his eyes though, that belied his calm, outward expression. Deep green eyes like the ocean depth warily scanned his surroundings, looking for signs of intrusion only a master of magic can understand.
Finding nothing, the man's posture relaxed and a bone-weary expression replaced his mask of indifference. He promptly stood up and raised his wand above his head and with a quick downward slash, the flame in front of him burst forming a shape. With another flick of his wand, he dispelled the fire and only the barest hint of a pop can heard as he apparated, leaving the cold and hard earth.
Dry leaves rustled and beyond the trees. The soft, silent whispering began anew. Moonlight filled the sky and stars began to shine. Only the spot where the man had formed the shape remained dark. It was blacker than a starless sky. Darker than a moonless night. It spoke of emptiness and death. And it was as if a piece of the world had collapsed, forever destroyed.