Duke Ulrich von Lionheart shivered beneath the fur of his cloak as the icy winter wind howled through the bare trees. His silver steed trembled too, exhaling puffs of steam into the frigid night air.

"How much longer until we reach the keep, Ser Jeffred?" Ulrich asked, his body shuddering as another gale passed by.

"Just a few more miles, my liege," the knight replied, his breath frosting the inside of his helmet.

Ulrich grimaced. The moon hung cold and vacant above them, and time itself seemed to crawl at a snail's pace through the bitter dark.

"S-ser Jeffred," young Noas stammered through chattering teeth.

Jeffred arched an eyebrow beneath his helm. "Yes, boy?"

"L-look there," Noas said, pointing a quivering hand toward the trees ahead.

Ulrich narrowed his eyes, peering into the gloom. Though just a squire, Ser Jeffred had chosen the lad for his exceptional eyesight, so if Noas spotted something, it must warrant attention.

He spurred his mount faster through the snowy mire. As they drew nearer, the sight that greeted them turned even the duke's blood to ice.

Mangled piles of flesh lay strewn about the forest floor, painted in crimson so dark it neared black beneath the pale moon. The gore had flowed like a river between the trees, now hardened and crackling in the cold. Tufts of fur and feather peeked out from rent skin and sinew, the blood of wolves, birds, deer, and countless other woodland creatures now indistinguishable. Ulrich swallowed hard against the bile rising in his throat, a growing unease settling in his gut. What foul devilry is this?

Ulrich felt a chill colder than the winter wind creep down his spine as Noas cried out. Emerging from the shadows of the trees was a figure that resembled a man, yet was somehow terribly wrong.

The creature's skin was as green as summer leaves, its eyes a deep crimson that put Ulrich in mind of congealing blood. Pointed ears peeked out from wild locks the color of fire, and full lips curled into a disturbing smile, revealing teeth filed to sharp points.

Behind Ulrich, young Noas whimpered, the squire's fear palpable in the frozen air. Ser Jeffred had dismounted to inspect the gory pile, but now he strode quickly back to his horse, hand gripped tightly on the hilt of his sword.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"Who may you be?" The creature said, his heavily accented voice awfully smooth, like poisoned butter.

Summoning his courage, Ulrich drew himself up to his full height. "I am Ulrich, of the house Lionheart and Duke of the South under ArchDuke Henry. And you?"

"My name?" the creature purred, baring needle-like teeth in a gruesome approximation of a smile. "I am Pylik al'Vikril, descendant of the Fearsome One." It tilted its head, regarding Ulrich with an almost amused hunger. "Do you, young Lionheart, know of the Fearsome One?"

Ulrich shook his head warily. Behind him, he heard the rasp of Ser Jeffred unsheathing his own blade. "I haven't the idea, my good man."

Pylik clicked his tongue. "He was a good man. He created a kingdom for my people. It flourished under his rule." His luminous gaze bored into Ulrich's. "And he protected it from humans."

Ulrich's guts twisted at the implied threat, but he stood his ground. "He sounds an honorable man," he managed evenly, his fingers tightening on his sword hilt beneath his cloak.

"He was," affirmed Pylik, baring his teeth once more. "Tell me, young Lionheart, does your brother Henry love you?"

"Aye," Ulrich answered, his muscles coiling, ready to strike. "As I do him."

"Splendid," Pylik said with a flat smile. Then chaos erupted.

It happened in seconds, but all Ulrich saw was a flash of a green-colored liquid materialize in thin air. It flew past him, and his eyes widened in terror as he turned to see the face of Noas' face melting away, flesh sloughing off bone in steaming chunks.

Ulrich let out a bellow, wrenching his sword free as visions of slaughter raced through his mind.

Once Ulrich raised his blade to strike, uttering words of power, Pylik moved with preternatural speed. With surgical precision once thought impossible, Pylik's hidden curved dagger shot out, severing Ulrich's tongue and hamstringing his legs in three fluid motions. Ulrich crashed to the floor, his lifeblood painting a gruesome mural onto the stones beneath him.

"Xlac mou dýnami!" Ser Jeffred cried from behind, summoning an aura of darkness around his blade as he charged forward, adrenaline fueling his strike.

But Pylik was faster - "Tachydromeío!" he exclaimed, splaying his skeletal hands. At his words, a miasma of putrid violet gas manifested and Jeffred ran headlong into it, too arrogant to stop. As the gas entered his lungs, Jeffred's body exploded from within in a bloody carnage, raining viscera down upon the frozen plants below.

Ulrich's eyes widened in both fear and astonishment. Even a Quicksilver was no match for this monster! Summoning his last vestiges of strength, Ulrich dragged himself across the blood-slicked floor to the left in a futile attempt to crawl away. But Pylik was upon him in an instant, stomping a bony foot into his back and pinning him down.

"Look," Pylik said calmly, pointing to where Ulrich crawled with one long, skeletal finger. "My kingdom lies that way." He gestured to the right. "Your kingdom is over there." Pylik's face curled into a mockery of a frown. "You should have gone that way, my liege."

All Ulrich felt was the cold kiss of metal against his neck, before his entire world erupted into agonizing pain, then faded swiftly into darkness.

***