Prologue

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In the beginning of all things, there was peace. It was before the Changer smeared blackness among the Creator's humans and angered him, before storm and chaos and violence were born. Many believe the Changer created strife and pain. They are wrong.

In the peace there brewed a storm. It was a powerful spirit, volatile and writhing as it grew. There was turmoil within It, but It did not wish ill upon the world; only a sort of salvation from the pain that dwelt there so heavily. So it shaped Itself, a living contradiction to the thing It saw as the cause of pain: human emotion.

There was a stone, gifted as an attempt to achieve the Storm's wishes, but it only brought about more pain in the hands of foolish mortals, and the Storm moved to another means which worked far, far better. A vessel, a human container with which It would work not to relinquish emotion in other mortals, but to soothe it. And It succeeded.

Its method was easy, Its way simple, and Its result far from destructive. Many lives were changed and saved. When peace came again for a while, the Storm slumbered, waiting. War rose. The Storm was trapped with Its vessel for two-thousand years. When It was freed, It began Its work once more in the torn land left behind. Until that particular vessel, who by no fault of his own, followed his heart and changed everything...

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