1 Chapter 0 - Prologue

The hovel was both dark and damp, a rather uncomfortable mix, caused in part by the poorly sealed walls – cracks between shoddily placed boards allowed the humid air from outside to seep into the building. With no furniture to speak of the building looked barren and would otherwise be thought to be uninhabited.

In the center of the structures solitary room sat a small woman, one knee to the floor, and both hands clasped together, seemingly performing some sort of prayer. She wore a dingy ankle length patchwork skirt, and what was once a pure white blouse, now covered partly by dried spots of blood. The skirt was a mish mosh of colors, none of which ever intended to be paired together.

Her shoulder length blond hair was partly matted to her porcelain like skin, the left side of her bangs stuck to her face as it was once dripping wet with crimson. Her small button like nose poked out, noticeably red and raw, paired with the tear tracks that ran down her dust covered face. Both eyes squeezed tightly shut, with her left eye partly covered by her matted hair, she sat there. Her bottom lip quivered gently, still holding back tears, even now.

In front of her, drawn in blood, was a rather large, and complicated, looking arcane diagram. A book, already opened to a page bearing a similar looking picture, laid in front of her. In the middle of the diagram laid a naked, and very much dead, male. Multiple stab wounds could be seen on his upper and lower torso – apparently a crime of passion, or anger.

Several minutes of nothing passed, but she stayed as still as possible. Determined not to move until the deed was done. After what felt like an eternity had passed, the bloody diagram started to bubble, which then gave off a bright red vapor. The crimson circle slowly darkened, until only black remained, when it finally began to pool towards the stilled corpse. A solid, papyrus thin, inky black mass formed in the shape of a circle, under him.

Seemingly taking notice of something, the blond woman turned to face one of the hovels empty corners, slowly opening her sore and reddened eyes. Where before there was no one else, now stood an old man. Hunched over and exceptionally boney, he smiled at her. Her eyes could not help but open a little wider at what was easily the kindest and most sincere smile that she had ever bore witness to. Wearing only a simple black robe and a red knotted rope for a belt, he slowly shambled his way over to her – his eyes shifted over to look at the nude body that laid ceremoniously in the center of the floor.

After a gentle sigh, he placed his gnarled and arthritic hand upon the crown of her head, gently patting her like one would a child. A dam seemed to have broken as she suddenly began sobbing. She tried to speak, but that only seemed to open the door to what she was feeling even more, only managing a few unintelligible words in between shallow uncontrollably quick breaths.

"Worry not child, for I already know." The old man's smile deepened now, causing wrinkles to form around the corners of his eyes. She almost forgot to breath as she looked upon his face. There was nothing unnatural about the way that he smiled, but it seemed to draw her in. Breaking down the many emotional barriers that she had built up over the years, she felt that she could truly trust him – which was more than she could say about any other person in her life. He reached down to move the bloody matted mess, that was her hair, from covering her face as he spoke again. "But I must ask, do you know what it is you are asking of me? Are you prepared to pay the price of such a deed?"

Still unable to speak, she simply nodded as an answer. As she closely watched him, not willing or wanting to look away for even a second, she noticed as his eyes changed. Where before they were a gentle and almost crystalline blue, they were now a solid black. The inky color bleeding even into the sclera of his eyes. Where what she assumed must be the pupils of his eyes met the whites of his eyes, they spread out like unmixed cream, forming smokey swirls of fading black.

Finally managing a raspy reply as he looked back towards the corpse, she forcefully spoke, "Yes, I understand. Thank you… thank you…" She repeated her thanks a few more times as her voice faded to little more than a whisper. The robed figure then reached down, taking her hands in his own. He then gently squeezed her hands, never losing his smile. His eyes locked firmly on the corpse before them.

"Then, your wish shall be granted." Looking back into her eyes, he now gripped her hands much more firmly. She was not sure how she knew where he was looking, but she knew. His eyes seemed to look through her, as he nodded in approval of something not stated. Something deep within her. "You have suffered greatly until now, for which I extend me sincere apologies. But rest now and know that which burdens you so will be hefted from your shoulders. Be at peace."

With no other context given, the woman smiled, for what felt like the first time in a very, very, long time. The figure then closed his eyes for a few seconds, her hands still within his own. She could then hear him mumble something, in what sounded like an unknown language, before a black ring formed on the back of both of her hands.

Patting her hands once more, he then let go before he made his way over to the corpse, stepping into the viscous black, and still bubbling, liquid. Until now nothing else happened to the corpse. But as the old man trudged through, the body seemed to slowly sink into the apparent void that had formed beneath it.

She could not be certain, but the old man seemed more hunched over than before, a hump clearly visible on his back, where there was not one before. "You should leave now my dear. Stay much longer and your people are certain to take notice of your absence."

She made eye contact with him one last time, before nodding her head and wiping, with the sleeves of her blouse, at her thoroughly stained face. Before she opened the only door leading to the outside, she took a deep breath, resettling herself. A black scorch mark was all that remained from her meeting, it too already starting to unnaturally fade away.

Opening the door caused light to flood the room. But at the center of the room, where the corpse once laid, light seemed to fade away as it was pulled towards the unnatural shadow. Not being very well versed in the specifics or causality of arcane rituals, she merely shook her head before closing the door behind her.

Outside waited a sparse carriage, with two horses to pull it. The horses were clearly not meant for such a shabby carriage, as they looked more akin to large war horses. In the driver seat sat a well-groomed and black-haired man, wearing what looked like a rich man's half-assed attempt as dressing well below his station.

"Are you finished my lady?" Looking around rather warily, he continued, "we should leave post haste. The night brings with it much more than shadows in these parts. Unconsecrated as these woods are." The driver spoke very clearly. He obviously had a well learned diction, the type that only came from learning to speak to large groups of people.

Climbing up to join him, and accepting his offered hand, she replied curtly. Her voice still raspy from crying earlier, "yes, we are finished here." Seeming to recenter herself as she sat down, she took another deep breath before looking out at the soon to set sun in the distance. "Now we only need wait for the advent of our heroes." She spoke in a way that radiated an almost religious like fervor, the steel in her voice still present, even as it came out barely louder than a whisper.