Prologue...?

Endless.
Time is endless. No matter what happens, no matter how the world flows. Time will always move forward. Its a cycle, a circle, something that can never be stopped. Magic can tease time, harness it for a moment, yet in the end, it moves forward again.

You can't trick time, there are those few, precious few, who have hidden from time. Yet have they truly hidden from time, or merely stepped from the stream as it washes forward across the rest of the world. That is the key, the question, and the issue with the world as it evolves.

Immortals have not escaped time. Those of the heavens and hells still see time move forward, still watch the stream of time condemn the living, and punish the damned. Even the most ancient lich withers away, thinking he has gained power as his material body rots. He doesn't notice that his soul has rotted as much as his physical form.

I've not escaped time. I know this. Centuries have passed since I've aged, since my biological clock has run out of time. Yet time still touches me, though the years do not assault my body, my flesh, though I do not gain the wrinkles of the aged, nor the diseases of the flesh, I'm still at the mercy of the clock. My soul withers beneath the assault of time, my mind blanches at the approach.

I'll never be whole, and I'll never be truly broken. Like the shadows, I will always exist, and like the shadows, darkness will always be where I am.