[Two days ago]

The city is full of life.

Rows of colorful tents line the streets, filled with merchants, peddlers, and swindlers from around the world. They are magicians without magic, skillfully using their most cunning words to cast spells to increase profits and make deadstock disappear.  

Moving through the lively crowds are performers, free of dignity, working to fill their pockets with coins. They are inciting laughter and good times wherever they go.

When night falls and the ale flows, their pockets quickly become empty once more.    

Dotting the bustling city is the purple and gold of the city guard. Worn with pride, the colors of the King bring comfort to his subjects, while their swords and spears ensure the safety of all.

Peace is always the goal no matter how much violence it takes to achieve.  

“Grandpa! What about these? Can I have one?” shouts a thin, freckled skinned girl. Her short red hair playfully pushed around by a soft breeze. Her simple dress and worn-down shoes revealing her lowly upbringing.

She holds up an exotic curved yellow fruit. Something she had never seen before.

“Hmm. I am not sure I know what that is, my dear. Do you?” a messy grey-haired old man says as he slowly walks up behind the red-haired girl. His eyes squinting as he tries to figure out what she has in her hand. The dirty shirt and ripped pants covering his body reaffirms their social standing. 

The man has a leisurely pace due to his left hand being bound by the tight grip of little fingers. Beside him is a chubby cheeked little girl waddling as quick as she can. The few whisps of hair on her head matching the older girl’s color.

“Uh, its, um… What is this?” The red-haired girl asks a large man standing behind a table stacked with fruits. Her face scrunches and twists with confusion.

“It is called a plantain.” Chuckles the large man.

“I have traveled through the deserts and over the seas to bring them to you today. And for only four coppers it will be yours.”

“It is called a plantain Grandpa. And it is delicious! Only four coppers! Can I have it?” the red-haired girl asks the old man with a wide smile.

“No… I’m sorry my dear.  It is much too expensive for us. Put it back please”. The old man says. His heart pained that he is unable to provide the girl with everything she wants.

“Oh… ok… we will be back later, so don’t sell them all!” The red-haired girl sternly tells the large man as she puts the plantain back on the table. Her eye staring directly into his.  

The large man chuckles at the intensity of the little girls words.

The red-haired girl runs up to the old man and grabs his right hand. She leads him and the chubby little girl through the busy street, searching for something more exciting and less expensive.

…

As the sun settles into its afternoon haze, the trio makes their way deeper into the city. With the excitement of the markets behind them, they are on their way home.

The old man is holding the little girl in his arms, her chubby cheek resting against his shoulder as she sleeps.

The red-haired girl’s feet have grown sore from walking on the stone streets in ill-fitting shoes.

“My feet hurt Grandpa. Can you carry me?” The girl whines, as she clomps her feet. Her exaggerated movements gaining the attention of the old man.

“I cannot. But we will be home shortly.” The old man replies.

“But they huurt! …please?!” The girl groans.

“And Hovel street is like, um, one.. two.. three…”

The old man listens patiently as the girl slowly counts, using her fingers to get to ten.

“nine… ten! Way more than ten steps away!” the girls says as she holds up her hands, showing the old man all the fingers she just counted.

“We are still at the fancy houses!... please?... Come on, you have a free arm right there!” The girl says, pointing to the man’s right arm.

“It looks more than strong enough to hold me!”

“Ho ho!” the old man chuckles.  

“Indeed, you are correct it is free, but sadly my arms are not as strong as they once were. And as you can see, I am already holding quite an important load. Would you have her walk instead?” The old man asks.

“…No…” The girl says with a pout as she looks at the little girl in the old man’s arms.

“She is very important, isn’t she?”

The red-haired girl loves her little sister.    

The longer they walk the more the sights begin to repeat themselves.

In front of each of the fancy houses are groups of Household knights and hired swords standing guard. They keep watch as maids and servants hurriedly fill all types of carts, wagons, and carriages with expensive trunks and ornate furniture. 

The loud and unsettling screams of Lords and Ladies rattle the nearby windows as they bark orders to their help. Confirming that a loose grip or clumsy step will lead them to a swift and painful punishment.

While the red-haired girl is enchanted by the shimmer and shine of a life she will never know, the old man begins to worry.

“What is all of this?” the old man thinks to himself.

“Where are they all going?”

…

Fires burn throughout the city, fending off the darkness of night.

It has only been a day since the evil arrived at the city’s edge, but it has made its way deep inside, infiltrating every street and alleyway as it spreads.  

The screams of horror fill the ears of those who have not yet succumbed.

The old man is running down a city street. His frail body struggling to remain upright as his wobbly legs flail beneath him. Quick huffs of air are all his burning lungs can take in.   

The once joyous weight of the chubby little girl has become an additional burden to his pace. His thin weak arms fight to keep ahold of the precious child as she rewards him with frightened shrieks and wails.

Closely behind the old man is the red-haired girl. She is not struggling to keep up but the horrific acts happening all around her make her hesitate. Her eyes are wide as she watches the evil consume.

 “I’m scared!” The girl cries.

“Keep running! We need to get to the castle!” The old man says with labored breaths.

They come upon a split in the street.

“To the right!” the old man yells.

As they turn onto the new street, he stops dead in his tracks.   

In front of them, not twenty paces away, the raven-haired woman is walking down the street in their direction. Her stride is even and there is no haste in her movements.

The moment she sees the old man her body hunches over and she starts running towards them. Like a predator who has spotted new pray, the woman is hungry for the kill.

The old man grabs the red-haired girl’s hand and quickly turns to run away. As they get back to the split in the street the old man takes another right. As his body twists to make the turn he loses grip of the girl’s hand.  

The old man looks over his shoulder to see the red-haired girl standing sill, frozen with fear.

“No!” The old man yells as he turns back to get her.

All of a sudden, the raven-haired woman sprints past the girl, ignoring her completely.

The old man is able to turn his back and shield the chubby girl before he is tackled to the ground. As they fall forward the old man tosses the little girl from his arms before landing on the hard stone street.

The girl hits the ground and tumbles a few times before coming to a stop. She pushes herself up and sits on the ground crying.

As the man wiggles his body to face the woman, she starts ripping apart his shirt. He tries to fight her off with his remaining strength but is easily overpowered and pinned to the ground.

He screams and cries, but her rage is set.

The sight of his exposed chest sends the raven-haired woman into a frenzy. She starts biting the old man, taking off small mouthfuls of flesh. The old man is squirming his body to try and avoid the bites which infuriates the woman. She slams her head into his, sending it back onto the stone street, and knocking him out.

With her prey incapacitated the raven-haired woman takes a large bite out of the man’s chest. She spits out the flesh then starts sucking on the open wound. As the old man’s blood seeps into her mouth, the darkness flows into his body.

After a few moments of drinking, the stream of darkness ends, and the woman stands up. She looks down at the old man’s lifeless body before leisurely walking away.

The old man is laying in a pool of blood. The chubby girl a few meters away crying.

Suddenly, the old man’s body starts to convulse. It shakes and tenses up as streams of darkness swirl under his skin. His eyes flutter then snap open as the darkness encircles them. A dark stain settles over the old man’s face and neck in the same pattern as the raven-haired woman’s.

He has succumbed to the darkness.

The old man staggers to his feet, standing as he looks up at the night sky. His trance is broken by the noises of the chubby girl. He looks down to see her sitting on the ground with her arms reaching up to him. Her crying has stopped, and she is trying to catch her breath between sniffles.

The old man pauses for a moment before walking off down the street.

The little girl gets to her feet and wobbles after him.

…

Gregory has his left arm raised high above his head. The magic ball of light is growing to a massive size. The screams of his spell drowned out by a loud magical hum and swirling winds.

Iris keeps her right hand firmly placed on Gregory’s back as she grabs ahold of his left arm with her broken hand. She does her best to support him while he completes the spell.  

Douglas leads three mages down the walkway as they fight against the violent winds of Gregory’s magic.

“My Lord! I have returned!” Gregory shouts.

“What magic is this?!” The King yells as he stands looking at Gregory. His mighty body unwavering by the winds.

“We are not sure my lord!” One mage yells as he shields his face from the winds.

“From what we can see, all we can surmise is that it is ancient.” Yells a second mage.

“But of what type we do not know!” Screams the third mage.

The King silently watches Gregory. Unsettled by the unknown.

“Keep faith my lord!” Douglas yells.

While his left arm remains extended above his head, Gregory reaches into the hidden satchel under his cloak. His hand rummages around for a moment before he pulls out a closed fist.

Gregory slowly raises his right arm as he pushes against the wind currents. When fully extended, he opens his hand to reveal three small blue orbs. The orbs are dark blue and vibrating at a high frequency.  

As Gregory forces his right hand towards the ball of light the blue orbs start to disintegrate.  

In an instant the magic ball of light expands upwards and out, transforming into a gigantic magic circle hundreds of feet tall. Intricate crystalized patterns crisscross the circle, creating beautiful designs that tell of its true purpose.  

It illuminates the land for miles.

The violent winds disappear.

It becomes quiet. 

The red-haired girl remains frozen in place. Her head buried into her hands as she cries hysterically.

As the light of the magic circle spreads over the city, the girl stops crying and looks up.

It is beautiful. It is calming.

The roar of thousands of pounding feet surrounds her.

The King shields his eyes from the bright light.

“What the hell is that thing?!” King Aurum says as he turns to see the three mages on the ground. They are covering their eyes and screaming in pain.

‘Sire! Look!” Douglas shouts, pointing towards the city.

The King strains to look past the blinding light.

His eyes grow large.

Gregory is looking up at the magic circle. His right arm remains extended to help share the burden of keeping the magic circle under control.

Iris’s broken hand still holding tight to his left arm.

“You may let go.” Gregory calmly says.

“Very well.” Iris says as she lets go of Gregory’s arm and removes her hand from his back. The green light disappearing from around her body.

She takes a few steps back then closes her eyes and starts quietly chanting a spell. A bright red light starts to radiate from her body.  

Gregory stands silently, marveling in amazement at what he created.

He remains silent as the thunderous horde floods out of the city streets.  

The King watches in horror as thousands of stained bodies race down the promenade towards the castle.

When Gregory sees the horde running towards him, he carefully turns his body to face the castle; gingerly adjusting his hands so not to let the magic circle get off balance. 

“Now!” Gregory yells.

Iris opens her eyes and raises her hands up behind her head then flings them forward at the magic circle. Long red ropes of magic whip out and wrap around the base of the magic circle.

‘Grrraaahhh!” Iris screams as she aggressively pulls back on the red magic ropes.    

The magic circle slowly starts to tip towards the castle.

Iris is exerting all her strength to make the magic circle move.

The King and Douglas are looking up at the magic circle as it is coming down towards them.

Two archers from Gregory’s followers step out from the circle and ready their bows. They both start quietly chanting incantations that ignites their arrows in yellow magic.

Simultaneously they release their arrows and watch as they sail towards the front gate.

Upon impact they create a devastating explosion that sends bodies from the crowd and pieces of the gate into the air.   

The King quickly looks over the castle wall, finding a massive hole where the gate is supposed to be.    

“Sire!” Douglas screams.

The King looks back up to see the magic circle picking up speed as it falls.  

He puts his hands up to shield himself from the impact.

As the magic circle crashes into the castle, it turns into a thick white dust.

King Aurum opens his eyes to find his body covered in the dust.

Exhausted, Gregory smiles as his body starts to wobble.

The horde rushes past him and towards the castle.