A back alley, just after the death of the child Fomor...

Wishbone steps into the Umbra, his expression troubled. Banes are bad enough; now someone's altering them to make them even worse?

Something will have to be done.

He draws the massive ivory hammer he calls the Voice of the Voiceless and looks down at it, cradled in his hands. << Now we begin our work, >> he says, in the speech of spirits. << A spirit of Gaia has been twisted and warped into a servant of the Wyrm. >>

He holds up the hammer, gazing at the spot where the Blur discorporated into Slumber.

<< Brothers, cry for the fallen. >>