The messenger extended his trembling hand to Prince Vikor. "He's left this behind, Sir."

Prince Vikor still still processing the news of his father's death, watched the messenger's hand closely. Nestled neatly in his naked palm lay a glass ball no bigger than an apple. Blue lightning raged from within the ball, sand particles stormed amidst its walls like a tornado. Vikor reached out and grabbed the ball. At his touch the lightning stopped and the sand came to a rest.

Vikor studied the strange spherical ball of sand. Before it was as if it housed another world, a desert plagued with storms, but for some reason in Vikor's hands the storm moved on. Now there was nothing but the dormant dune at the bottom.

"What is it?" Vikor asked the messenger.

"My Lord, it is unknown." the messenger continued. "Except, forgive me sir, artifacts like this are from another realm." The messenger was reluctant to answer the Prince's question.

"Another realm? But what do you mean?" Vikor asked.

"Sir. Do you recall the visitors from Hokenstatt last snow?" The messenger asked, to which Vikor nodded. The messenger continued "This may sound strange sir, but they were not from our world. They were from another world entirely, very different from our own. Another realm."

Vikor stumbled back into his seat, knees feeling weak, head hazy. "I don't understand." The glass ball of sand in his hand had been with his father during his sudden death. Was this perhaps the cause? Was it cursed? Vikor's mind searched for answers.

The messenger stepped closer. "My Lord. Your father was negotiating a peace deal with the visitors from Hokenstatt. A deal that was kept up until tonight. These visitors will be returning. They want what they came for last snow."

Anger replaced confusion on Vikor's face. "And what is that?"

"They want to move all of their people here, to live in your kingdom. They are fleeing their realm, where they say an evil has infested their lands, tainting all it touches with death and suffering. Your father, the King declined this request of refuge, afraid of the evil that may follow them."

Vikor stood from his seat and placed the ball on the table in front of him. Untethered from his touch the sand storm returned, turmoil and tumult tossed within. He did not know what the people of Hokenstatt were running from, but he did know one thing. He trusted his father. He would not go quietly into the night. Grief would have to wait, wallowed down wishing for more time. This was a time for WAR. But against what enemy?