Amoroth felt the tension of the coming storm. He stood at the window in his office gazing out at the gathering storm clouds. It had rained all night with a little respite and into the early morning, but from the look of the roiling, purple clouds, they had merely experienced the calm before a truly furious storm. At the moment there was no rain, but gusts of wind bent the trees nearly in half. Every time the wind changed direction the windowpane rattled.
Every light was on in the office, making it as bright as a sunny summer day. A half-eaten plate of breakfast sat on his desk next to a stack of paperwork Joyce had brought in. He had been eating less and less. Food had become bland and tasteless, and he drew his strength mainly from the Shadow. It filled him with power, satiating
