The night was black, the air was cold, and the wind was harsh. The man in the gray cloak stepped out onto his balcony, resting his gloved hands on the railing. It was happening. He could feel it stir inside him, even though he wasn’t quite sure what “it” was. The stars were lining up, people were crossing paths, and events were falling into place. Inky darkness connected everything in sight, shattered only by the tiny spots of light that dotted the sky. Wind swept through the trees of the forest, swirling over the wall of the city and blowing back the silk curtains which framed the huge window. It was a good night, the man thought, pulling his cloak tighter. It was a good night for the beginning. A good night for the beginning of the end.