prolog

They came when Mog'Natal called them, those who willingly - no, eagerly - had sold their souls to the darkness. Once like Mog'Natal they were deeply spiritual beings. Once they had studied the natural world and the place that the arcs, the demons of nature, occupied in it. They had learned from the animals of the forest and the fields, from the birds in the air and from the fish in the rivers and oceans. And they were part of that cycle, nothing more and nothing less.
But that was a thing of the past. These former shamans, these new wizards, had only briefly tasted the power and found it irresistibly sweet - like a drop of honey on your tongue. So their desire was rewarded with ever greater power. Mog'Natal himself had learned from his master Tar'Zuhl until the student outdid the teacher. Tar'Zuhl had made the Arcs clans into the fierce, unstoppable wave of violence they represented today, but Tar'Zuhl had also lacked the courage to go further.He had a weakness for the innate dignity of his people. Mog'Natal was cut from a different cloth.
The clans had killed everything there was to kill in this world. She was lost with no outlet for her bloodlust. In a desperate attempt to satisfy the brutal longings in their hearts, the clans fell upon each other. It was Mog'Natal who found a new target for the greed of the Clans. Soon they would be heading for a new world full of simple, unsuspecting prey. Their bloodlust would reach new heights, and so the wild pack needed advice to guide them. Mog'Natal should lead this advice.
He nodded to them as they entered, and nothing escaped his small, sparkling eyes. One by one they came, were called to their master like tamed beasts .. To him.
They gathered around a table, the most feared and hated members of all Arc clans. Some looked terrible, paying for their dark knowledge with more than their souls.With others you didn't notice anything; their bodies were intact and strong, With strong muscles and sparkling eyes. That was what they had asked in their dark deal. All of them were unscrupulous, cunning and would stop at nothing to let their power grow.
But none of them were nearly as evil as Mog'Natal.
"We who are gathered here," began the big, black demon in his hoarse voice, "are the strongest of our clans. We know the power. We know how to get it, how to use it and how to get more of it. Others begin to speak out against one or the other. One clan wants to return to its roots, another no longer feels like killing helpless babies. "His thick black lips twisted into a condescending smile. "That's what happens when arcs get weak."
"But, great sir," said one of the wizards, "we have killed the Kersen people. What else can we murder in this world?"Mog'Natal smiled and pushed his thick lips over his sharp, long fangs. "Nothing," he said, "but other worlds are waiting."
He laid out his plan in front of them and enjoyed the lust for power that he read in her red eyes. Yes, it would be fine. It would be the most powerful army ever, and at the head of that horde he would be, Mog'Natal.
"And we will be the council that the clans will dance to," he said finally. "Each of us is a powerful voice. But the pride of the Arcs is so great that they are not allowed to find out who really directs them. Let everyone believe that they wield their spear because they wish it, not because we do it command him. We will work in secret. We are the wanderers in the shadows, a power that grows in size through its invisibility. We are the shadow council, and no one should ever find out about our existence. "
But one day some of them should find out ...