I lay in bed. It was still dark outside. I didn’t feel like standing up but going back to sleep was also out of the question. I hated my nightmares. They were an eternal companion of me. They never let me forget what I had lost. Geurt was just one example. I was 78 summers old now. All I had ever known in my life was war.

I grew up in an orphanage. I don’t know who my parents were. It didn’t matter. They probably died in one of the countless wars that humanity waged. In the orphanage I was tested for magic affinity. They found out what I already knew. My secret connection to air that made me different from all the other children. I left the orphanage. They didn’t even ask me. I was conscripted by the age of fourteen. It was war and mages are rare. They are high value targets and the longer the war drags on the more irreplaceable mages die.

They send me to a shool for war mages. I learned what was necessary. Reading, writing and math. Tactics and strategy. Hand to hand combat, weapons training, alchemy and of course magic. Three years later I joined my first battle and experienced my first real lost. Ivan, a fellow student did not return from the field.

All I had ever known in my life was war and loss and I couldn’t take it anymore. The barrel was full. My mind broke and when it broke I swore to myself to never again let someone into my life. Let someone get close to me, because I knew. I knew I couldn’t take another name on my list.

I lamented over life and death until I finally found the strength to stand up. I put on my gambeson and my boots and walked downstairs, locking the door behind me.

A woman was working the counter. Probably the wive of the inn keeper I had met yesterday. She looked up when I entered the room. “Good morning, dear. Breakfast?”

I just nodded, limped over to one of the chairs and sat down. I didn’t feel like words this early in the morning.

“Here you go.” She said as she put a plate with some bread from yesterday paired with a selection of butter, cheese and a few vegetables in front of me. The vegetables didn’t look fresh which did not surprise me. It was still to early for the first harvest. These were from last year, stored in root cellars over the winter. I just nodded as an answer and took a gulp from the cup of water she had also brought.

The meal was fine. The bread still fresh. The cheese was good. Goat I think? Refined with bear’s garlic. I took my time. Only one other patron was in the common room with me. A merchant by the looks of it. I believe I had seen his wagon next to the inn’s stables when I arrived yesterday. Brave of him to travel alone. At least I hadn’t noticed any guards. Brave or stupid.

As I ate the room slowly started to fill with the boar’s head’s patrons. I enjoyed the hustle and bustle and I listened into the conversations that filled the room. My little friend helped me out without anyone noticing. He delivered the sound right to my ear so that even an old man like me didn’t have problems understanding every word that was spoken.

The conversation topics were mundane. Prices for food at the marked. Someone complained about the labor shortage in the village and that he was worried for when it was time to cultivate the fields. Another one nagged about his wife that had him under her thumb. Everyday conversations. But you newer knew when someone dropped that juicy bit of information, not thinking an old man across the room is able to listen in.

“Everything okay?” The inn keeper was back. I was so focused on the conversations, that I didn’t notice him entering the room. He grabbed my empty plate and it took me a moment to realize that he asked if the food was okay.

“All fine, thank you.” I answered him. He turned to leave when I held him back. “Tell me. How long have you been living here? Can you tell me a bit about this village?”

He took a look around, saw that every customer was currently served. “Ah, I guess I have time for a little break.” He said and sat down on the chair next to me. “I have lived here all my life. I inherited this tavern from my father and he from his and when my children are old enough they will take over from me. They are already helping me out. But I digress. What do you want to know?”

I pulled out a map from my gambeson’s pocket and unfolded it on the table. “Do you know how to read a map?” I asked him.

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“I do. Haven’t done it in quite some time but my father was wise enough to invest in my education.”

I pointed my finger on a tiny dot. “We are here, in Wijma.” There weren’t any additional notes on the map. Wijma was insignificant. A small miracle it was listed on the map at all. The map was of high quality, but even with the best maps there was a limit to the details.

The map showed the little creek that ran trough the village as well as extensive woods to the east and west and also the mountain range that started somewhere in the distant north. It should even be possible to see the mountain tops from here. But the weather would have to be better then it was when I arrived.

I slid my finger over the map a bit to the north. “Right here, at the edge of the woods there should be a small lake. The creek that is running through Wijma originates from the mountains, runs into the lake and from there further south to the village. I heard about some old ruins just north of the lake. Do you know of them?”

His gaze darkened. “I know of the ruins, and if you value your life you will stay away from them! Nothing good has ever come from these remains.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“People are telling stories. They say its haunted up there. They talk of schemes in the night and sometimes people that venture too close don’t return. The hunters are avoiding the area widely and last year a child went missing from one of the farmsteads to the north. Just didn’t return home one day. Without a trace!”

“Huh. To get there I just follow the creek?”

The inn keeper looked at me like I didn’t understood a word he had said. In the end he just sighed and said “Yes, just follow the creek. You can see the ruins from the lake.”

“Thank you.”

“Its your funeral.” He answered with a shrug of his shoulders, grabbed my plate and left my table to tend to the other customers.

‘Ghosts, huh?’ I thought to myself ‘I’d bet some lone hunter just got scared over his own shadow. Either way, what is inside these ruins is the reason for my entire journey. I won’t turn around this close because of some scary folktales.’

I got up and went upstairs into my room. I put on my full armor and attached my weapons. I threw my pack on my back. Double checked that I hadn’t forgotten anything in the room and locked the door behind me.

Downstairs I went to the counter and gave the key back to the inn keeper. I also bought a loaf of bread and some winter apples from him. The rations in my pack were a bit low but with this addition I should be fine for the next days.

I left the inn. The weather was good. The clouds from yesterday were gone and the sun shone. It was still a bit windy which was fine. I like the wind. I felt more alive when wind was whipping in my face.

I turned north. With the change in weather I could now see the mountains on the horizon. I followed a small road right next to the creek and soon the landscape changed. The farmsteads vanished and were slowly replaced by wild and empty meadows as well as smaller woods and tree lines. There wasn’t much north of Wijma. Hermits, hunters, woodcutter and some fisher that worked the lake used the road. Some daredevil merchants also followed it up to the mountains where an alpine pass allowed to venture outside of the human realm. Many of them didn’t return but those that did had they cards filled with gold, exotic spices and magic equipment the like we humans weren’t able to produce.

The merchants that return tell tales about their exploits. They say there life creatures behind those mountains that are quite similar to humans. Some slim and tall with pointy ears, some small and stocky with long beards. It didn’t really matter to me. In all my years I haven’t left the human lands. We have always been too busy bashing each other's heads in instead of looking beyond our borders.

Maybe time would change in the next decade. Humanity was finally unified and for the moment it looked like it would stay this way. There had been peace for quite some time now but we were still licking our wounds. The last war saw use of the most perfidious weapons known to man and some of them were still reverberating. Magic so unimaginable destructive…

I had fought in the last war. I was on the winning side but in hindsight it had hardly mattered who won. The next ten years after the victory I earned my money as a mercenary, cleaning up the mess the war left behind. Magic epidemics, monster population that had gone unchecked, demons, that had ran amok in blind rage after their summoner had died. Every weapon humanity could think of was out there and out of control. It paid good and I had never learned anything besides war craft. It paid so well I could have lived without worries until the end of my days…

But I couldn’t just get a home and life peaceful day to day enjoining good wine and good company. I get nervous and uneasy after a few days without something to do. So I invested my time into magic research. I learned and honed my magic like I had never done. All this time I improved to survive on the battlefield. Now there was time and space to look into other thinks, to set a different focus. My interest landed on the Aiguri. A society that had lived long before us. They knew magic completely different to what we have today.

Resources on this magic of old is scarce. I scavenged every library and private collection I could find and at some point I knew enough to cast simple spells. It opened doors to endless possibilities. I grew fond of one specific Aiguri author. Most of the Aiguri books I owned came from his feather. According to the information I collected he conducted his research from his laboratory in Quatruus. Of course Quatruus is long gone together with the Aiguri but ruins remain. Yes, those ruins.

After some hours – it was shortly after noon – I took a break and sat down into the grass right next to the creek. I took a sip of water from it. It was cold but refreshing. I took another sip and filled my water skin. I considered for a moment to take a bath but decided against it. I would follow the creek for quite some time to come. I would batht in the evening.

I was in thought, resting. I massaged my knee. It always hurt. It was mostly fine pain wise while I was walking but when I stopped the pain always reached new highs. What a vicious and almost cruel circle… When I walked I knew I had to stop at some point but stopping would make me suffer therefor I wanted to keep walking and that in turn… I heard the sharp creak of a branch nearby and my head jolted to the right...