A man sat on a polished throne of bone. Skulls, ribcages, horns, all from different beasts or sentients. It didn't matter what type of sentient either. Human, Elf, Dwarf, Halfling, Gnome, and hundreds of others. From the half-fish people in the dark depths of the oceans, to the feathered folk in the highest of heights.

Besides the extravagant throne, there was nothing else that would catch the eye of the room it resided in. A small square space. The walls are dark stone, having the smell of a dungeon coming off of them. Moss eroded the stone in the corners. A few scones holding up one torch for each wall, not a lot of light, but enough. No door or window was etched into the stone. Opposite and to the left of where the throne is a small bed. To the right of the bed was a large bookcase that was filled.

In Front of the old man, at eye level, was a book. It seemed to be levitating with an odd, black glow clinging to the edges of it. Every once in a while the old man lifted his hand and a page would turn. The man had a black robe on, however, it seemed to be blacker than black. Almost as if one were to directly look into it, you would see nothing but the void. His skin seemed to be completely tugged off of his frame. His hair was long gone, and nose was extended and crooked. His eyes were completely black, with tiny white dots all inside of them.

His reading continued until a sound came bouncing off the walls. Or that’s what it seemed like to him. Yet in the back of his mind, he knew, only he could’ve heard it. It was the sound of a newborn crying. Not any baby’s wail. Instead, the next one. The unfortunate one.

“Hmmm.’ The man grunted. With a flick of his finger, the book closed and went flying over to the bookcase. “Alright, get up you old bastard.” The man half-grunted. Using his arms he stood. Hunched over a bit, he held out his hand. The shadows around the room colasted around his hand as a large scythe formed in his grasp. While it was a weapon, he also used it as a walking stick.

He took a few steps forward. Then, the shadows started to rise and cling to his body, The torches and light dimmed and flickered. Before suddenly, the man was gone.

***

“Kenan, is finally, for the love of all the gods, asleep.” Tyris half whispered. He then slowly shut down the rest of the away. Hoping and praying, that the tiny sound wouldn’t wake Kenan. With a thunk the door closed. The sound of wailing, unanswered. “Thank gods.”

Ava who was resting on the culmination of bedrolls, blankets and anything soft to somewhat form a bed, smiled at her husband's tiny anguish. It had been two days since she gave birth, and she was still resting it off. “He would sleep easier with a crib.”

“We all would. Dear, we all would.” He then tip-toed his way towards the makeshift bed and slowly laid down. “The basic furniture should arrive tomorrow. Including our beds and crib. We...you will have to pick out the rest at the village. Then Doco and I will go retreive it.” His words slowed rapidly as the exhaustion of the day quickly caught up. He then reached to the side of the bed and snuffed out a candle. Then they both quickly got under the covers.

“Was it a smart move?” Ava asked. She decided to share her worries, the same ones she knew her husband were having. “To move here? Couldn’t we just have waited the War out?”

Tyris sighed. “We already went over this love. We lived at the border. Our own soldiers would’ve razed our field and house for fear of the Shio getting food. If the Shio would have invaded. We would either be dead, or slaves. I would rather start over than die or be on my knees.” He draped his arm over her. “Besides, a few nails here, some wood there, and some elbow grease. This place would be good as new.”

Ava flipped over. “Your right love. Just I have this bad feeling.” She didn’t hear a response. As she heard, and felt, the rumble of Tyris’s snore.

Inside of Kenan’s room. Nothing in it beside a window, some hay and blankets with Kenan himself sleeping soundly on it. The blue tinted light of the moon shone through the window, illuminating Kenan.

In the middle of the room, shadows morphed and formed into an old man, with black robes and a large scythe. He stepped closer to the babe, and leaned down. “How I wish I could save you from the anguish and pain you will receive…” Kenan opened his grey eyes. Staring at a pair of black, infinite eyes. He began to cry. “You will walk alone, afraid. You will gain power that you hate. That hate will turn towards yourself.” With his free hand, he coursed the shadows to form a little black pebble that floated in the air. The crying started to get louder. “Your convictions, and principles will be challenged and thrown into the fires and woes of regret. Sorrow will replace your bones, anger will flow instead of blood, deceit will shape your eyes.’ The black pebble drew closer to Kenan. “Maybe, if your will is strong enough, Your soul will remain.” As the crying reached its peak. The pebble drilled into the chest of the baby. It was almost as if a whole formed before the rock settled inside the ribcage of Kenan. "Hopefully, your fate is better than mine."

Suddenly the crying ceased, the old man disappeared, and the door opened. Doco had stepped through into the room. He had seen nothing of the old man but a wisp of shadow. “Oh, I thought you were crying,” Doco whispered. He had decided to save his brother and Ava and do a kind act. He went over to check Kenan anyway. Seeing that the babe was in fact awake. Slowly he coaxed him back asleep.

It might've been exhaustion or some other factor is Doco’s head. Yet, he didn’t know, didn’t notice. That Kenan was unnaturally cold, paler than he had been, and had no heartbeat.