Prologue

The moonlight poured overhead as the silent night was disturbed by the clicking of rapidly approaching horse steps. A robed figure raced through the night on the back of a beautiful white horse as if in pursuit despite the lack thereof. Breathe fogged up the night air as the horse powered down the mountain side while being expertly handled by the rider not making any unnecessary movements unable to be hindered from their goal. A few miles south of the rider, perched on a tree that overlooked the whole mountainside to the north, stood a shadow of a creature that looked neither like a man nor did it look like a bird despite the dark feathers that lined its exposed arms that was not covered by it's midnight shaded armor. Surveying the fleeing horse already nearing the base of the mountainside and with no chance of catching up, the figure raised a flute made of wood, discolored with age, and played a melody that shrieked through the night filling it with a malicious aura. Drenching the night in almost a tangible sense of wrong. The shadow lowered the flute and disappeared into the dark as soon as the melody finished leaving the tree swaying ominously in the still air.

The robed figure pushed the horse harder, sweating with dread as shrieks filled the wailed in the wind. Finally reaching the base of the mountain the rider spurred the horse forward into the cover of the grass, hoping to avoid detection for at least a moment. But the flute was a signal, and the trap had been sprung. A huge paw caught the horse and sent it, and its rider, flying into the air, crashing down several meters from the impact. Blood soaked the surrounding area like a crater; the horse's entire innards were visible from the gash that tore off the horse's entire side as it faced the night sky, crushing the legs of the rider. The rider struggled as they tried to free themselves, futilely, in an attempt to escape. Hearing the thudding approach of the beasts that were about to descend upon them, the rider abandoned all hope of escape and immediately reached into the satchel that hung from their waist, frantically searching inside until they pulled out two stones. The rider immediately tore off the glove that covered their right hand, then, clenching one of the stones brought it against the newly exposed flesh splashing blood on the stone. Soaking in the blood, the stone began to shine bright orange giving away the last hope of escape in the night. The light seeped to the bottom of the stone, into the ground gathering up the nearby soil, creating a small golem no bigger than the woman's hand, covering not only the orange stone but the second one as well.

The small golem stood at attention waiting for orders, not aware of the situation, but the rider chanted strained, in a soft soprano voice,"Poryia". Light glowed from the golem one last time as it saluted the woman and disappeared into the earth vanishing along with its light as darkness descended upon the rider.