The Black Wind Rises

There is a darkness in your dream, as such visions often start. But it isn't the warm darkness of your bed. Not the long darkness of a shadow, or the darkness pierced by stars. It is the darkness that lies in all mortal hearts. The darkness of the unknown, terrors chortling within it, no semblance of direction or reality. The darkness that rides with death, and covets the screams in nightmares.
A small light struggles into view, shining from above like a muted sun, and then strangled until it is little more than a candle. Just enough to see by. Just enough to appreciate the vastness of the dark. For there is no despair without hope.
From below comes a hand. A hand made with the concepts of bone and flesh, a mockery to the prey it endeavors to swallow. Then a crown made of wicker and horns, holding within it a fire unlike any that walks this earth. It is a mote of the Last Fire, the Ember Neverending, the Blaze that Burns the World Tree. The frozen fate of Norn.

Crow: "You thought you could subdue me?"

Crow wades higher, their masculine form laid bare for all to see, searing its way into the nightmares of mortals everywhere.

Crow: "Your Demons are mine now, Warden."

The flames of the Abyss roil within Crow's ribcage, a hollow light glowing between their bones.

Crow: "Hear me, mortals. See my form. Know my face. I am the Shadow Cast by the Last Fire. I am the Wind that Feeds the Blaze."

With a wave of their hand, four figures appear behind Crow, each riding a dread horse.

Crow: "See the forms of my anticipations. The Horsemen of Abaddon cannot be imprisoned. They cannot be banished. They cannot be defeated. As I rise, so do my heralds — forever and always, as the Ember Neverending."

The four Horsemen raise their weapons in salute, and following their blades, three Owls fill the spaces between them.

Crow: "I come for what is mine, Jack. And when I have it... Not even she can stop me."

Crow rises higher, matching the height of his Horsemen, as a foul beast rises from the dark to act as his steed. A Black Fox, its eyes the color of opium, opens its mouth to eat the dream, and the vision shatters apart.