Even for the plane of Tempest, the shadows writhe with unusual vigor. Splashes of light erupt from the limitless space sequestered to an eternity below Existence. The seven silhouettes, clad in the spectrum of light hostile to the eyes, convene around a scorched altar.
Above this profane gathering hovers an overwhelming presence, poised to act at any moment. The silhouettes attempt to show no fear. Few succeed.
The tall, proud shadow addresses its peers. "Our time has come." The words sink into their collective minds and ease the tension, but only slightly. "We are set to sweep across the land and reap the soul of the world itself. With our god empowered by the magic of our realm, none will oppose us."
A few agree enthusiastically. The blazing shadow replies, "Finally. We have suffered the existence of those abominations far too long."
The hungry shadow squirms. "Will he leave any for us?"
Their question is met with a cold smile from the proud shadow. "We shall all have our fill. The Rift shall be widened so that all may enjoy the bounty to be found on the other side."
They look up and stare at the presence covering them, and the overpowering darkness reaches inside them and takes hold, whispering its secrets to their empty souls. "This... is... our... time."
Finally, they begin to ascend.