The night embraced the burnt hills of Calne. Raven lingered on the grounds in his black long coat customary of the Division of Global Magic Affairs uniform. He strode through the burned bodies. The field smelled of burnt flesh and defecation. Yet, Raven took his time, step after step, cleaning his fingernails with a dagger. In the distance Lucian knelt searching through the debris of the burned wood house. The mighty beast that he rode on no longer flew in the skies above them. The dragon had disappeared from the black horizon. 

“The Grimoire is not here. Someone took it.” 

“Oh, my goodness, are you sure you didn’t burn it? Or perhaps the great Gareth beat you to it? Maybe you are not as smart as they say.” 

“Don’t play games with me. All of our lives are at stake. The Timeless Grimoire is necessary to save our world.” 

“I know. I know. But did you have to destroy the High Warlock’s home? This will not stand to the Council.” 

Raven finally reached him and shared a grin. “My condolences.” Raven lowered his head and his chin bore the stiff embrace of Lucian’s blade. 

Raven’s face changed to a bitter and serious one. With one finger he moved the sword away from his face and rose with impenetrable postured eyes that put fear in anyone’s soul. 

But Lucian was not just anyone. Raven knew very well of his great deed. Lucian was a young warlock who appeared ten years ago in the Kingdom of Etenia. He killed the king’s oldest sword and took his place by the Law of Ascension. He was born a genius and a prodigy. Raised in the family of silver eyes of foresight. But somehow, he didn’t cheat his way into a position of power in the system. 

It was frightening. 

Raven outnumbered the sword of seven by five ranks, so there was only one sword in the kingdom who outranked him. Killing someone like Lucian would be easy for him. However, he found him useful. 

Lucian stared at the empty skies. “We lost the war. Those fools at the vanguard regime and the council do not understand the Ring of Fire is coming,” Lucian remarked. 

“Eden will fall for their idiocy,” Raven agreed. 

“I’ll go to the nearest town and find out if someone knows about Gareth. You can continue to search the premises.” 

“Why don’t I go to town, instead? You know I don’t like to get my hands dirty.” 

Lucian’s eyes narrowed. 

“You know where we’ll meet at dawn.” 

Raven nodded. Lucian turned his back to Raven and strolled towards the fire uphill. Within the flames, the man became pieces of glass that disappeared into nothingness. 

In the village below the hill, men and women tried to flee and seek refuge. Raven would walk around town with his hands in his pockets, watching those who stayed to observe the flames over the hill. A dog howled somewhere in town, and children wrapped up with blankets to their necks rested on the corners or fronts of what appeared to be an Inn. Ahead, he heard a commotion. 

“Hey, bitch, be quiet.” 

“Give that back to me.” 

Raven stopped and looked into the alley between the houses. A man had a knife on a woman’s neck, and he held her close enough to where her dress was all over him. He appeared to have lost an eye. The detail looked fascinating to Raven. He wondered how it happened. 

“What the hell are you looking at?” said the tall man who accompanied the other two. Judging by their body language, the three of them appeared to be drunk. 

“Help me!” cried the woman. 

The other two rushed to his side. The third one pulled his hand and cut the woman’s throat, leaving her bleeding on the ground. Raven did not even remove his hands from his pockets. A man drew the rifle and Raven wore a smile on his face in return. 

“Look what we have here. A white chicken that doesn’t know what to do,” said the dwarf. 

“Hey, Clement, what do we do with this one?” asked the big one. “You stupid son of a bitch! Now we will have to kill him too,” said Clement. 

The tall one came closer, took a soak up from a bottle, and puked over Raven’s boots. Raven finally spoke, “I think there’s been a mix-up, men. We should go our own ways.” With a swift movement of his hand, a page from the Grimoire hanging from Raven’s shoulder like a messenger bag disappeared into a white light. 

“Sure, no problem.” 

“It was just a misunderstanding.” 

“Everything is peachy.” 

The men moved on, Raven closed his eyes and continued walking with his hands in his pockets towards the Inn. Another page from Raven’s Grimoire turned into light and the dirt on his boots disappeared. On the two-storey Inn’s second floor hung a giant wood sign that spelled out Dragon’s Blood. Raven smiled. He found it ironic as a dragon had just visited the town recently, and the name was fitting. 

Many transparent lantern candles that gave a nice fruity scent adorned the murals on the inside, as the glowing lamps were out. The fires had burned all poles on the road to the town. The men stared. He stopped to observe how dirty the place was. He sighed at the courtesy. But given what just happened, Raven ignored it and sat at the bar where a man was cleaning beer mugs. 

“One of your best, please.” 

“We don’t serve strangers.” 

Raven closed his eyes and sighed once more. He placed his hands together over the bar, showing that he had nothing to hide. The man glanced over, staring down at the Grimoire that hung from his waist. 

“You are a witch.” 

“Warlock.” 

“All the same. We don’t want your kind here.” 

“I’m looking for someone—” 

“I do no’ care. Leave,” the man demanded with a stern voice. 

Raven savoured his dry lips and slowly withdrew from the bar moving his arms up showing his empty hands. 

“Don’t worry, Daniel. He’s with me. Let’s go,” an elderly man voiced, and dragged him away from the bar. Raven rushed to the backside of the inn, and swiftly swept the dust from his uniform, “I swear. This place used to be a hog pen,” he said, finally turning around to see the assailant. “What a surprise to see you here, brother-in-law!” Raven’s face lightened. 

“You know I’m not anymore.” The crooked Swedish accent belonged to Edward Hellström, a man whose expression and movements were so agitated by Raven’s mere presence that it could alarm anyone that a fight was coming, but Raven didn’t seem to startle. 

“You still are to me. Even though you have been an inadequate father—” Edward grabbed his high collar and slammed him against the stables. 

“How dare you speak ill of the dead! You better have a bloody reason to be here!” 

“Oh, she didn’t tell you?” 

“Told me what?” “Bethany is alive.” Raven smiled. “Anyway, I came to warn you that Lucian is here. He is looking for the Timeless Grimoire.” 

Edward let him go and held his weight against the nearest stable wood stack. His breathing had stopped, his jaw had dropped, and he couldn’t form words. 

“About your daughter… I—” 

“Shut your bloody mouth!” Edward wailed. “The Timeless Grimoire. Is it safe?” Raven nodded. “But it won’t be soon when he realises that I have it.” 

Edward sat on the wooden boards, his hands on his knees as he watched Raven with a look of ultimate desperation. Memories came back to Raven, those of a war that painted the land red. 

“Take it to her. She’ll know what to do.” 

“I’m sorry about Bethany. I really am.” 

Sometime later, Raven walked along staring at his boots covered in mud. The feeling was disgusting, yet he had gone through worse during the Academy. How he missed the days of crawling through mud, sweat, and blood. He played with his silver dagger that resembled a tiny normal sword that a human had crafted. Something he had picked up on the scorched lands earlier. 

The cries of an animal whining in the night’s darkness resonated in the distance. Ahead were the three men he had met in the alley. 

“Fucking bastard! Stop following us! We don’t have any food for us, and you think we’re going to give you some!?” The man with the eye patch was facing a brown dog that was wagging its tail at him. 

The other two men were sitting on the balustrade of a house nearby, watching and laughing. The man named Clement stretched his leg to kick the dog, and within milliseconds Raven was in between them holding the man’s leg. 

“What the—!” a sharp knife had cut his neck at the same time he spoke, and before his body fell to the ground, bleeding, the other two accomplices had shared the same fate. Raven threw the knife to the ground and walked over to the alleyway where they had previously killed the woman. Her body that lay in the mud disappeared into a puddle of blood and rocks. 

“You can come out now,” Raven spoke. 

“Are they dead?” a woman came out from behind the house. 

“Yes.” 

“What happened? I’m sure they cut me—” 

“They cut your throat. I stopped time, healed your wound, and let them see an illusion created from your blood and rocks. For matter cannot come into existence or disappear without leaving a trace from the roots of the tree of life. I made them forget what happened and tried to manipulate their mind to walk the right path. You humans call it a second chance. But there are people who will never change.” 

The woman checked her neck but there was no scar. “You are a witch!” she screamed and ran away from the place. 

“You’re welcome!” Raven shouted and walked with his hands in his pockets towards the fire in the horizon.