948 A.D. — Rural Ninava

“MONSTER!”

The young boy, barely twelve years old, looked in the direction of the shout, watching on as flames engulfed another section of the Blacksmith’s workshop. Fire licked the sky, giving shape to the surrounding barren field on one side and forest on the other. His eyes reflected the growing flames as he hid, his grimy hands holding on to the entrance fence of the humble estate, muck caking the underside of his nails.

The sizable, looming figure he had studied so well over the years rushed out, dashing across the waist-high grass, past the fence — which the boy had now completely ducked behind — and towards the tree line at the northern end of the estate. As the young boy peeked over the fence once more, he saw the curved streak, no longer than a palm’s width, shine on the back of the figure’s head surrounded by its short dark hair. The large scar, so familiar to the boy, reflected the ambient light. The figure seemed to be heading in the direction of the Lakontey Mountains, which dominated most of the moon-lit sky in the forms of sinister, almost silhouette-like waves across the darkened heavens.