All shared the same confused look; all muttered the same confused questions.

Like wraiths, they walked toward the doors. They seemed content to let Avnon lead, and he reached them first. He looked out and could not control a gasp.

There was no city beyond the doors, no streets, no carts, no horses, only plains of tall, black grass waving in a soft breeze.

His heart thumped in his chest. His brethren came up behind him, around him, and their gasps echoed his own.

His legs felt leaden, but he walked through the doors and onto the black-veined marble porch immediately beyond them. He was having trouble finding breath; it was as though the air was too thick to inhale.

All around him was dark, shadows, and gloom.

In his mind, a voice-his voice-kept repeating, "I did not foresee this. I did not foresee this…"

He looked up into the sky and saw no sun, no stars, no twin moons, only black splotches of clouds backlit by some sourceless, sickening ochre light.

"Kesson Rel has stolen the sky," he breathed.

Kesson Rel, the first Chosen of the Shadow God, stood in ankle-deep water and waited for the dragon to show itself. Protective magic sheathed his body, warding him from both physical attack and the dragon's life-draining black breath. Another dweomer allowed him to speak to and understand the dragon in any language the creature might use.

The perpetual dimness of the Shadow Deep did not limit his vision. The swamp stretched in all directions as far as he could see. Flies and bloodsucking insects thronged the air; huge bats wheeled in the sky above. Steaming pools stood here and there, leaking the stink of organic decay. Stands of droopy leafed trees sat forlornly at the edge of the pools.