In a deep, shadowy canyon, a Mage Tower rose amid thick fog. Wooden streetlamps by the roadside swayed gently in the wind, their dim yellow candlelight reaching only far enough to illuminate the tiny village beneath the tower.
It was the dead of night.
"Caw, caw."
A black raven called twice, then hopped down from the railing of a mid-level terrace on the Mage Tower. Its small silhouette vanished into the night almost instantly.
The midnight wind was freezing. The figure in bed seemed to shudder, then suddenly sat upright, gasping heavily.
The young Mage felt as though something had happened.
Still in his nightclothes, he used a tiny fireball to light the candlestick beside his bed. His spellcasting was not yet proficient, especially in a place like Karazhan, where his fire magic always seemed impossible to keep from growing too powerful.
The first thing he did was shut the window that was letting in the whistling cold wind.
The Swamp of Sorrows always carried the stench of rotting corpses. Even with mountains separating it from Deadwind Pass, winds blowing in from the sea still carried that smell here.
"Caw." The wooden window made a sound like a raven's cry. Great Mage Medivh was very fond of ravens.
Perhaps no longer seeing the fog-shrouded canyon and the strange shadows of the trees outside made the young apprentice feel a little better. But when he turned around, intending to use the toilet before returning to sleep, he discovered that his bedroom door was open.
He had clearly shut it before going to bed.
This was Karazhan, standing directly above a rift in the void. Anything unusual meant that something really had happened.
Holding up the candlestick, the young Mage walked into the somewhat damp circular corridor. The echo of his footsteps