In an age, before men ruled the world, humanity co-existed alongside other nobler beings and powerful creatures of magic. Deficient in the ways of the arcane, humanity was branded as an inferior existence deemed unable to pose any credible threat to their self-appointed betters.

Designated as vile and barbaric by their nobler cousins, humanity was left to their own devices. Time passed, humanity flourished, overcoming its weak disposition by its determination to survive through even the cruelest of nature’s unending trials.

Perhaps then it was their hubris that blinded the noble beings when they failed to take into account one of humanity’s great sources of strength, their unquenchable thirst for power and knowledge, and when the same thirst led humanity to come knocking on their very doorstep, they were found to be ill-prepared in their peaceful stagnation.

- An excerpt from Myths & Legends Volume III. Original Source Unknown.

Shadows embraced the forest as the twilight rapidly began turning to dusk. This deep within the Milanka forest the flora was thick and overbearing. Trees grew to massive proportions, blocking most of the sunlight during the day. What little light that managed to sneak through the dense canopy would swiftly be consumed by the never-ending shadows of the forest.

A trio of riders escorted a wagon with its main body carefully concealed on all sides by multiple layers of dark fabrics. The three men on horseback were armored in padded leather with a long sword strapped to their back, half concealed within their dark cloaks, the cowl of which concealed their faces.

The man in the driver's seat, handling the reigns of the wagon mule was similarly cloaked, but sported simple cotton attire and carried no steel.

They were trudging through the thick forest along a large game trail, which led deeper within. Nearing a small clearing, they stopped to make camp, the full moon aiding in the process, providing them with much-needed visibility.

The three men got off their saddles and the man on the wagon walked up and took the reins of their horses, which he tied to the wagon. Then the men removed their sword straps and sat down on the grass facing each other, covering each other’s blind spots, their sheathed swords lying next to them on the ground.

The wagoner, on the other hand, removed a bundle twigs from inside the wagon, parting the rear flaps slightly in the process and breathed a sigh of relief when he had.

Collecting a bunch of dry leaves from the ground and bunching it together with the twigs; he placed the pile in the middle of the circle of men. He crouched and began sparking a fire with his flint and steel but was halted by one of the swordsmen.

“Wait!” spoke the man who was sitting directly in front of the crouching wagoner. He was tall and built broad like a bear. His voice held a natural sense of authority within it.

“Brothers, should we risk a fire?” He asked glancing at both the men on his sides in turn.

“It’s going to be a cold night, brother Roan. Freezing to death isn’t exactly fun, ya know,” spoke the man on his left before he let out a nervous chuckle and wrapped himself tightly in the cloak.

His voice was that of a young man who had hit puberty not too long ago. He was the tallest of the three swordsmen, looking leaner than the other two but muscular enough to be intimidating.

“So it’s either starve or freeze to death or get devoured by hungry wolves,” replied the man on the right, obvious in his exaggeration. The man was of medium height but made up for it in muscles.

He sighed before he continued, “If I am to be wolf snack I’d rather it be with my belly full of warm supper. They have been tracking us for over a week now and they haven’t attacked yet and my gut says they won’t tonight either.”

“Is it really your gut telling you that?” the young one asked mockingly at which Rok gave him a cold glare.

“It’s most likely the lady’s presence that has kept them at bay for the moment, brother Rok,” Roan said, addressing the irritated Rok.

“I came to the same conclusion as well. If it had been only the three of us out here the wolves wouldn’t hesitate in the least to slaughter us. The lady, she… She is different and her power is… more elegant.” Rok was careful to choose the right words to describe the ladies power.

“The moon looms full tonight and it might make them bolder,” brother Roan added as he observed the moon.

“Bah! I’d rather not starve anymore and if it comes to a fight I think we could handle a pack between the three of us,” brother Rok said,

“Yeah, sure we can.” Helik teased, he was feeling unusually snarky tonight. The hunger affecting his mind. His banter was his way of hiding a sense of desperation and fear lurking within.

They had not eaten a proper meal in three days since they took notice of the wolves. They had consumed all the dried meat and cheese they had begun the journey with. Fearing an ambush, Roan had deemed hunting too risky. So they had only eaten scraps and small berries they had managed to scavenge from the bushes within their path. They were lucky to hunt a rabbit that had stumbled into their path and hoped to enjoy it this night.

“Fair enough, brother Rok.” Roan gestured with his hands to the wagoner to continue lighting the fire. Even though Roan valued caution he too was feeling a bit too famished to protest.

“How close do you think we are to the artifact, brother?” the young brother asked looking at Roan. As they were conversing, the wagoner had managed to spark the flames and now there was a small fire in front of them, illuminating their immediate vicinity and fully revealing the wagoner.

His face was in full view as he had retracted the cowl of his cloak. He was a scrawny little man appearing to be in his middle years, with long greying hair and a scrappy beard, his already small stature appearing even more so in the presence of the three burly swordsmen.

“Less than seven leagues, I would assume. The lady told me we were getting close a few nights before. I think we could make it tonight if we push forward,” Roan replied.

“Tonight? Master Roan?” asked the wagoner, nervously sneaking a glance at the full moon, a fearful expression on his bony face. He was now pouring some water inside a kettle, which he had set upon the fire after getting it from inside the wagon and had started making preparations for a simple rabbit stew.

“Well… it’s upto the lady to decide if we march on, if she wakes up that is,” Roan replied.

“What do you think is going on? She hasn’t woken in days.” The young brother sounded worried.

“It is quite strange, but I have noticed that she hasn’t woken up since the day the beasts started trailing us,” Rok added and the three of them contemplated on the subject as they stared into the fire, not willing to speak on it anymore. After a moment had passed the three of them closed their eyes, appearing to be asleep.

The camp went completely silent, except for the bubbling noises of the boiling water and crackling of flames. Nighttime in a forest as massive as Milanka which is usually vibrant in its nocturnality was hauntingly silent this night.

‘I really need to take a leak,’ the wagoner thought. He had been holding it in since the advent of darkness, but it had started becoming unbearable. The bubbling noises coming from the kettle, enhanced by the eerie silence of the forest only served to pronounce his dilemma.

His plan was to quickly walk behind one of those trees surrounding the clearing and relieve himself, but the illumination provided by the small fire did not reach that far, the woods remained in shadows and he was too afraid to go alone in the dark.

He just couldn’t comprehend walking through these dark woods alone even in the light of day, doing the same at night was inconceivable. He had missed his opportunity to ask one of the brothers to escort him, but now the three of them were probably in meditation and disturbing a brother during his moment of silence sounded unwise.

Armed with only a crude understanding about the workings of the wild, and a life spent in safety within the impregnable walls of Crea had made him increasingly anxious as the journey continued, and knowing that they were being followed by vicious wolf beasts only made him more fearful of his surroundings.

As his situation worsened, he somehow managed to find his courage, not wanting to sully himself this close to the lady’s wagon. Throwing caution to the side, he rushed towards the edge of the clearing, not slowing down to allow his eyes enough time to adjust to the darkness ahead, causing him to stumble through the woods virtually blind for a moment.

He had not taken more than three steps past the clearing when his left foot got tangled within one of the protruding roots, and he fell after losing his balance. Trying to avoid a fatal blow to his head, he used his hands to cushion the impact of the forward fall, but it had gone horribly wrong. He rolled on the ground letting out a cry of pain, the volume of it enhanced by the utter silence of the night.

The three swordsmen were on their feet in an instant, and with their swords, in hand, they bolted towards the source of the wailing. They found their culprit in a moment, their enhanced eyes easily adjusting to the dark.

The wagoner was gripping his right wrist tightly with his left hand, blood seeping out of the wound in his right palm where a sharp object, most likely a common rock had almost penetrated through.

The three of them stood over the wagoner and without wasting any more time, brother Rok moved to block the injured man’s mouth to prevent him from wailing any longer.

“Fool! Shut your…” he managed in a hushed tone before a terrifying howl completely drowned out the sound of his words.