Inside the castle of the tallest watch tower Geoffrey was unable to sleep. He tossed and turned as the howl of the wind buffeted outside. Getting up he lit another candle, stoked the fire and walked to his table.

What was keeping him awake was the gemstone he had found, he had yet to uncover what he was sure was a power of some kind. It had a faint glow about it. He turned it over in his hands; the alchemists had never seen anything like it. It wouldn't chip, scratch or crumble in any way. They had added substances to it, even dropped it in a pot of a silvery bubbling liquid, but it came out as clean as it went in. It seemed impervious to everything. The alchemists had returned it to him with mystified looks on their faces offering no further advice aside from, see if you can find its special power.

Geoffrey rested his head on his hand and tapped the rock on his forehead as if he could transfer what it was for from rock to brain. His eyes flashed, he saw a whirl of images a thousand instantaneous images flashed before his eyes so fast he could not decipher any of them. He jumped and dropped the stone and the images stopped. He steadied himself with a hand on the table, and looked at the rock. Ever curious he picked it up again in his hand and moved it towards his forehead, nothing, waving it above his head, nothing. He tapped it on his temple, a flash a stream of images filled his eyes, he blinked and stepped back again bumping into his chair, seating himself. There were too many images to handle in one burst, he thought. This stone made images appear in his eyes, how could he slow them down?

Feeling a little nauseous but still curious, he made another try with the rock holding it closer and closer to his forehead. Then almost touching, he had an idea. He wrapped it in a piece of cheesecloth and then brought it back to his forehead. This time the images were slower and less overwhelming, but no less mystifying. Dethwolves in a tunnel, a wizard in his room, an old lady sleeping. They passed through with no connection between them, no sense of what where or when they were.

This stone seemed to project visions of some kind. He got up and paced around the table, not taking his eyes off the dull glow of the stone. He had known it was a powerful stone! Now his sense of its strength was even greater. He felt, somehow, that it could do other things as well. It had other powers. He was determined to find them. There was no way he could sleep. He took some paper and wrote what he saw in the visions. He tried to remember the details of what he saw. A pack of wolves was running, with armour, all black with red eyes. He had only heard of these Dethwolves and never seen one. A wizard working in his room, a room full of implements and chests around a large circular floor intricately patterned with stars and lines of purple and gold; the moonlight beaming into the centre. An old lady was sleeping with white hair and a wizened face, in a small room next to a dying fire. What was significant about these visions? Why did they become clearest and the others fade when he held the cloth on the stone? Tomorrow he would ask about them. Azkar the leader of the guard was the most travelled person he knew in the castle, if he didn't know any of these people or places; it was unlikely anyone else in the castle did.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

He sat staring at the stone into the night unable to sleep, trying to remember more details and thinking hard about what the powers of the stone were and planning on how he could test them. He heard the howl of a wolf near the entrance. A Dethwolf, could it be? He raced out to the hall and across to the window facing the entrance, he could see guards running, a commotion, but little else. There were more flashes of torches shouting and running, then he saw it. Somehow a wolf was upon the parapets, running along the castle wall leaping at soldiers knocking them off balance to fall towards the side of the wall, its red eyes flashing and armour glinting in the glow of the torches of the guards chasing and their shouts. As the wolf turned to face his pursuers, it's black hair standing as hackles on his back. Geoffrey recoiled, it wasn't one of the Dethwolves he saw in the vision, it was larger, but it was almost the same. Could it possibly be a connection? It was too great a coincidence that he saw that vision first and that was the first thing to match. He looked back at the commotion below as the wolf charged his attackers, spears and bows raised missed as the wolf deftly made a left, right move and a powerful leap over their heads as they scattered in the tight space of the parapet. Into the darkness the wolf disappeared. Only yells and clashes below could be heard, further into the distance.

What about the pack then? That was only one. Geoffrey thought as he made his way back to his room and looked out of his window to the opposite side of the castle. Was that a glint? He peered into the night, no, nothing.