Early May 1113

Despite the best efforts of the Harts, Albion falls. Acquiesence demands the death of a duke or swears to kill every firstborn child of Albion. A magical storm approaches from the East and moves twenty miles inland. The storms and flooding are relentless and much of the land is rendered uninhabitable. On the other side of the country the woods grow wild encroaching upon civilisation. With the help of other nations and guilds, the Incantors send an ancestral army through the land to aid. The King is kidnapped and subsequently killed. The Harts take refuge, many among the Dragon’s faction, and make preparations to save the other children of Albion. Much of the blame is laid at the feet of Calligar and a new upsurge of worship for the feral Ancestor.

As the first Moot closes work is underway and information continues to come in, reports and stories and the people know this: The country gets continually wild, the forest continues to grow and the storm rages on. During the night, whenever they lay down to sleep, the populous gets a dream of doom and destruction but with a light. They see their safest route out. Not everyone takes this omen, some will still stay and die but for them maybe this was their safest way out. By the end of the week most have departed. The King is dead. The people have gone. The land stands alone. One beacon of light remains: the cathedral at Milford is sealed from the wild and will endure. Once a place of evil and war, now a bastion of peace. The doors are shut not to open until Albion again is a safe place to live. The Gargoyles stand without, guarding the light.