Prologue: A Name Erased from Maps In the far reaches the Kingdom of Thornwell, where cartographers fear to tread and merchants reroute their caravans by a hundred leagues, there lies a valley that no map has accurately named for three centuries. Some call it the Grey Basin. Others whisper the old name— Dullkight —a place where color, hope, and time itself decay like old parchment. But the locals, the few who remain, know it by a darker title: The Curse of Dullkight .
“Why?” Morwen asked.
The Needle of Noon had not failed. Degrey’s lighthouse did not cause the rain—it merely punctured a membrane between worlds. On the other side lies a realm known in forbidden texts as the , a dimension of stagnant sorrow. The rain is not a punishment. It is an invasion . Each droplet is a living thought from the Grey Deep, seeking to replace human memory with formless despair. rain+degrey+curse+of+dullkight+part+1