A dark whisper. A malevolent pulse rising from the void,  heralding the final awakening of primordial horrors from their deathless sleep.

There's a little known, centuries-old story...a group of Magicians, a religious Alchemist, an 800-year-old FrenchCrusader, and Death, all had one thing in common – they knew the end was near...

Illusionist Reginald Black, shaken by his ominous dream - a lone figure standing in a field, blood raining from a crimson sky, and believing it a harbinger of the end of the world, penned a letter to “The Great” Banerjee.

For any traveling professional, time on the road can be a lonely place. For a touring illusionist in the mid-1800’s it was no different. Reginald Black, head-strong and eager to make a name for himself, hopped from venue to venue, day after day, for nearly three years straight…

Life goes on. A simple phrase. Common after loss or failure. Lingering in silence after something breaks. Meant to comfort, maybe? But really, it’s a reminder time waits for no one. There’s no mercy or pause. The world keeps turning, indifferent to mental wounds…

After Orem Black vanished in front of the Order of Wormwood, time was of the essence. What happened to Orem, where did he go? The other mystery would be the MAN appearing in Orem’s place. Who was he?

Texts of magic are nothing new...but the title of the grimoire mentioned to Orem Black, by the reanimated corpse of General Collie...“The Book of Amar”, was particularly intriguing, if not telling.