PROLOGUE: The Forest of Nightmares

Winter had never been kind to the people of Eltarin. Winter-storms brought hardship and annihilation of hope. Death was a common friend of the miserable humanity. Hardly had this affected the great Empire, where thousands fell and thousands arose—in dreadful devotion to their Emperor.

Eltarin stretched from the Northern Canyons to the Eastern Cape and just beyond. Their conquests prospered, their people did not.

In such a tyranny, the soldiers of the lowermost order of the army had little faith. Tonight, they were to scout the forests south of Orlon—the Capital of Eltarin. With constant expansion, foreign threats were to be expected and eliminated.

"Commander, we are winded." The soldier spoke in quick gasps of air. He was young, barely a man. His waiting, wondering eyes had always displeased his elderly commander who had truly experienced the horrors this kingdom had to offer. They all started young, and most died young.

"We will continue southward." The commander replied firmly. They had vast distances to cover, they could not afford to pause for even a moment. If so, they might lose their breaths altogether when they failed to report back at dawn.

"Soldiers." He alerted the order, their horses slowing down. There was movement nearby.

To his left at first, then behind him, then to his right and then above—growling filled their ears altogether.

"Sir, we are besieged." A soldier declared.

They drew their arrows, aiming at the glowing cerulean eyes. One pounced from atop, and crashed when an arrow struck its eye, howling in pain. "Ice Crawlers." The soldier swore beneath his breath. Not foreign invaders but Ice Crawlers, the common winter monsters found in abundance.

"How many?"

"About half a dozen."

They slowly emerged from the darkness of the woods, encircling the soldiers in the clearing. Moonlight like silken hair spilled down their shoulders and torso. Their bodies looked frail and they were slenderly built. Their bones gave an impression such that they would pop through their skin. But their skin was all white scaly and tough. Though they took a human form, their only locus of weakness were their eyes and neck. They often fed on women and children, and other larger animals.

Arrows shot through the air, seeking to kill. These were the weakest kind of monsters, an easy kill, even for the least skilled soldiers.

Two arrows shot right through the necks of the monsters on the right. They fell to the ground, clawing at the snow. Another one found its mark on the right eye of the Crawler lurking by the tall timberwood trees. One did not suffice, and the second missed the other eye by a hair's breadth. The creature screeched, pacing towards the soldiers in blind rage. Even before it could lay a claw on them, it was taken down by a dagger, hurled by the nearest man.

This is what made them easy to kill: they lacked a well developed thought process.

Soon, the Ice Crawlers lay cold on the ground, blue blood staining the snow.

"That should be all of them." The youngest soldier declared, with weary eyes.

"Time is not with us." A soldier sighed, strapping his bow across his back. "We must make haste."

"It is nearly impossible to cover such a distance by—"

"Soldiers—"

They weren't quick to respond. One of the crawlers had been perched upon the offshoot of a tree, and it came down screeching. Its fangs dug into the hind legs of a horse. The horse bellowed, delirious with pain. It pounced around, trying to free itself from the grips of the creature. Its rider fell, meeting the cold snow on his leather bound back. Just as soon, the commander's arrow struck the crawler, and it completely railed off the hind legs. The horse however, took off in the opposite direction, giving little mind to its injury.

Before the commander could even fret over the loss of a horse, there was movement. Again. This time, the horses grew uneasy.

"What's wrong?" They all felt it too—a shift in the air.

"More Ice Crawlers?"

Their questions were soon answered.

The youngest's eyes grew wide—and not in the way he looked at his commander.

No, this was pure terror.

Their eyes followed the tip of his finger, pointing up at the large branch of a timberwood tree. They all stood numb.

"RETREAT" The commander cried out his order, perhaps for the last time.

For the darkness grew, and it enveloped them all.