The night was silent. Not a single sound rushed through the now empty streets, making the city somewhat distant... Cold and alien to both heart and the mind. There was something inhumane about this place... an odd feeling of danger seemed to glide together with the gentle wind, bringing an irrational despair and forcing tears into the eyes... No, it wasn't a normal night... not at all.

The cloak of darkness covered the dreaded city, submitting it under the dominion of a grim realm. A dim light appeared every once and then from some unknown source, for a while fighting with the overwhelming blackness, but quickly thinning and ending up consumed by the sable force. The darkness was terrifying, eyes, so fragile against this force, kept descending into the endless black hole, which slowly consumed the beholder's soul. The mind kept losing touch with the world as the surroundings seemed to drift away, farther and farther, until nothing, but the desperate mentations remained. The air became thinner, quickly disappearing in the pitch realm of nothingness. Only one thought stormed the mind - to catch just one more dose of air, to remain conscious and carry on the existance despise this utterly unfriendly atmosphere. But the blackness was overwhelming, it gave no salvation and the fate was set - whoever stumbled into this force, had to suffocate... Endlessly suffocate.

The first sound pierced through the grim barrier. A silent squeak kept becoming louder and louder, soon taking over the whole city. Burning, red eyes stormed out of the back alleys, spreading along the main streets. A swarm of deformed rats climbed the buildings, quickly finding their way inside. Some rodents were bleeding heavily, suffering in the last moments of their filthy lives, other, somewhat disabled, missed their eyes, sometimes limbs and very often were seemingly sick. The semblance was terrifying and mostly disgusting, it seemed as if the rat corpses began conquering the human settlement.

Soon screams and cries filled the Rathurn's dwellings. Children, adults and elders... One after another, their flesh has been painfully pierced with the razor-sharp fangs. Fangs, which carried the toxic waste that, for years now, gathered in the sewers. The poison started running through their veins, deforming their skin and their crumbling bowels. With horror they watched as their skin turned to a rotten, yellowish colour. Soon their vision began to blur as the blood started running down from their mouths and their noses. There was no stopping for the rat army, only cries remained as the sole answer to the unexpected attack.

Few rats glided past the slightly ajar window, soon gathering inside the tavern room. Lured by the smell of Winand's flesh, they quickly swarmed his body. One of them, malicious like no other, turned to his head. It moved closer and closer, eager to taste the warrior's blood. Winand was breathing heavily, unable to catch air. He tried to wake up, seemingly receiving a feeling of an imminent danger. The rat waited. It fed on its victim's fear, quickly growing in strength and soon taking the shape of a fierce beast. Winand couldn't do anything. With no pity, the rat snapped its fangs on the warrior's throat, dippening the filthy blades in his blood.

At once Winand woke up and jumped away from the bed. He took a look around. The room was peaceful, only Garnil snored loudly. He moved his hand over his throat. There was no signs of attack. Only cold sweat remained as a result of his torture. Winand glanced through the window. Outside there was nothing, but darkness and silence... It was just a dream...

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