The Hollow Woods held its breath. No birds sang, no beasts stirred. Even the wind refused to rustle the dark needle branches that knotted above the glade like the ribs of some ancient, slumbering beast.
The trees here were older than the courts and older than kings. Their roots whispered in the old tongue, murmuring spells from a time when the stars had not yet chosen their patterns. This place was the Grove of Accord which had not been touched by mortal hands in five hundred years.
It was here, that the first pact of peace was forged after the War of Courts and now it would be here that four powers would attempt to bind the Hollow King anew.
At the center of the glade stood a stone dais which had been carved of black marble, cracked by time, ringed by four ancient obelisks.
As the moons crept toward alignment, the silver, red, and blue converging in the sky like celestial eyes. It was then that the leaders of the courts stepped forward.
