For dark eons, the comet circled. Held in thrall to a far-away sun, bound by gravity’s permanent pull, the colossal ball of ice snaked through the blackness between worlds, made extraordinary by its dark journey. On the eve of the ancient war of the Vloy, it strike down through the sky and lit a blazing trail across the night-a sign both armies took for a prophecy. The frozen ball dissolved in a flash of raging heat, as below two forces charged in battle across the edge of a narrow river. Consequently, at liberty from its icy stasis, the Morphling was born into conflict, an elemental power at one with the tides of the ocean, impulsive and unrestrained. He penetrated the fight, automatically taking the form of the first general who dared set foot across the water-and then struck him dead. As the diverse soldiers clashed, he moved from form to form throughout the battle, immediately absorbing the ways of these bizarre creatures-now a foot soldier, now an archer, now the cavalryman.