One of the foremost feelings which Gwinam has was a heavy weight pressing against her heart, that weight seemed to throb indistinctly with the rhythm of the heartbeats in her chest. Into the depths of the kingdom she went, and more palpable became the signs of the approaching storm. Above, dark clouds clung to the heavens, throwing an umbra over what was once lively landscapes.
She turned to the mystics and ancient texts containing the keys to the arcane world's past so that she could find counsel and guidance. The storm was declared unnatural; it was the very thing dramatizing darkness' intent to shift the jarring equilibrium of the world.
Gwinam felt that the days slipped by with a desperate intensity for her to act—hers was a fight for the kingdom and for a daughter who, inextricably tied to the realm's fate, drew strength and hope from its existence. She sought her faithful team of sowers in all the Land, each member with acquired wisdom and unique prowess to conquer the struggle ahead as one.
As one, the ancient ruins groaned with their approach, riddles were deciphered, and, with a strange amalgamation of arrival and ill-tied energies, onceforgotten relics gave up fragments of buried might. Gwinam trained, living under torment, pushing beyond and beyond; she threw every ounce of her will into mastering the knowledge bestowed by the Crystal of Light. All that she had denied and endured through the journey she now felt had prepared her anew for this very moment of serving as a flickering flame of hope against the impending darkness.
As tales of the oncoming storm gathered force, Gwinam maneuvered her friends through perilous terrains to rally different communities and unite them against this common threat. She provided solace.