Eleven:
In dreams, the crow flew cawing mockingly around me. Something in its sinister eyes captivated me. The rustling of the trees in the wind and the frigid unnatural summer air whipped through my hair. Darkness engulfed the horizon as the rifts began to open, expanding out in all directions.
Dying light curved inward as the skies seemed to dim. Vast arrays of filthy and broken beings filled the streets of New Orleans. Vile massive lizardmen with talons and thin hooked fingers marched in columns. Spectral beings swirled around in the skies above them. The Reapers were fewer in numbers, but their presence personified the threats of each being under their influence.
The crow circled me, mockingly, then it flew off, landing on the shoulder of an emerging ethereal figure. Incomprehensib
