Legend of Nimrod

This prologue has a mysterious and atmospheric quality that works well to draw readers in, suggesting an ancient power and fate-driven agenda. There's a sense of intrigue surrounding the old man,

A black crow perched on the lower branch of a danjo tree, its feathers blending into the night.

"My friend," called a wizened voice from the darkness.

Beyond the clearing, there was a rustle of leaves. "Ah, I see you've arrived." Out from the shadows stepped an old man, perhaps the oldest man on earth. The crow cocked its head, as if in salute.

The old man laughed. "But Marcus, there's no need for pleasantries between friends. Come." He beckoned, moving deeper into the underbrush. The crow released an irritated caw, then swooped down from the branch, circling before it landed. With a flash of light, the bird transformed into a squat, ugly man.

"The boys are just beyond that clearing," he said, hurrying to keep up with the taller man's strides. "A man ought to be allowed to enjoy the night as a crow," he muttered, swatting away the branches and tall grasses in his path.

The old man chuckled, a dry, croaking sound. "I'm tempted to shed this cloth myself; it makes the night seem endless. But alas, our desires are nothing compared to what we must do."

They veered left, slipping behind a massive tree and into a wide clearing where two boys lay asleep on the ground.

"Have you tested him for the knack?" the old man asked.

"Aye, he's a multiplier, and unblooded," the squat man replied gruffly.

"Good." The old man smiled, his eyes glittering with an almost feverish light. "Wake the multiplier. He has tasks to do."

The old man stepped closer to the lighter-skinned boy and bowed, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears.

"His destiny is great," he murmured, "and his success depends on him remaining a pawn."

"Great One," the squat man called out, "the multiplier is awake."

"Where am I?" came the boy's voice, sexless in its innocence. "Who are you?" He sounded young and afraid.

The old man grinned, a flash of anticipation crossing his face. Tonight, magic would be worked—powerful and rare magic—and he would not be the only one wielding it.

A cloud drifted over the moon, plunging the clearing into darkness. When the light finally returned, the clearing was empty. The four of them had long since vanished.