Open War

The path to stillness surrounds us, at all times, in all places. We clutter ourselves with the mundane while we ignore the supernal. The fey have been all but choked out of existence, suffocated by pollution of the mind and body. They have been forced to make new homes, retreating ever further into the wilderness, and living in slums when they must.

A sensation of unbalanced form, cold and tired looms over a coal or ember. Mouths blow heat over the coal, and still the darkness.