Buried in the darkness of his third story loft, Bisbee Saxton stared into the valley. He tried to look away, but his eyes refused. Pressing his face against the small wood-framed window he watched in horror as dark, shadowy creatures ripped their way through the countryside of Harness. Marnin's prophecy was coming true. But it was more than just the chaos in the valley below that troubled him. A foreboding darkness haunted him. All of Harness battled the beasts, but Bisbee was inwardly terrified by something darker. Tears filled his eyes, ran down his cheeks, and dripped into a warm cup of tea he held tightly to his chest. The map leading north to Charis lay open on the table beside him. The light from the moon moved in and out of the night clouds, passing over the markings on the old parchment. The crash of a crow flying into his window jolted him backwards. Falling to the floor, he stared into the ceiling above, cold tea now covered his chest. Perhaps it was not too late. Grabbing the map, he raced down the spiral staircase. This is the tale of Bisbee's journey to Charis. This is the story of the Seventh Trail.
