It was dusk as chilly winds blew, lifting off dried tree leaves into the air, cascading them atop a streamlined river. On its sandy banks stood a group of villagers, dressed in jute clothes, sporting solemn tones.

Their expressions lacked any semblance of sadness, but one of tension. Mixed mildly into them was fear, a notion of dread while gazing at the two wooden coffins they were about to cremate.  

A young boy around twelve years old stood before the coffins, slowly piling up logs of wood around them, finally stacking some hay and dried cow dung at the top.

Sporting magenta coloured hair and eyes, he was a youth brimming with hatred, even though the coffins he was about to cremate belonged to his family.

“Hibak, the coffins of your father and older brother, set them on fire.” A gentle voice suffused with sadness and pain resounded as a lady in her early thirties handed him a torch. Her hands trembled while her face was pale.

“Why…do I have to do this?” Hibak, the twelve-year-old boy gritted his teeth, saying with a clenched fist, slamming the torch onto the pyre, shouting, “Isn’t this just a sham! Why should we pay respects to that darned bastard? He…he…”

Hibak wheezed, failing to articulate his words as all he could do was shed tears. “He…he turned father into an undead! That bastard!”

“Let’s just be done with this.” A pair of arms wrapped around him gently as his mother consoled him, watching the pyre slowly catch on fire and begin to burn, “Our family produced a necromancer. Had we ensured he never journeyed through that path, it would have still been alright. But in the end, it happened.”

“Our only choice is to make it seem like the two of them had died while fighting Magic Beasts. Otherwise, it would only spell disaster to our village.” She sighed, firming her emotions while watching the two coffins burn into cinders.

“Is it done?” A middle-aged man walked forth, looking at the flames that were now dying down, gazing at the hatred-filled expression of Hibak, whispering to his mother, “Ensure Hibak doesn’t go around spouting the truth. I won’t be able to hide anything after that. I’m risking my life to cover for you, Gahreena.”

“I’ll be grateful for your help for the rest of my life. If a chance arrives, I’ll return the favour.” Gahreena said, turning around to walk towards her house. Hibak cried all along, his hands wrapped around her, burying his face into her coarse clothes.

“You and Heruhen have provided a lot for our village. This is the least I could do as the Village Chief.” The middle-aged man said, motioning for a couple of people on standby to arrive and push the ashes into the river.

While returning to the village, he said, after ensuring there weren’t any prying ears around, “It would be difficult for you to survive in this village. Gazar would return to turn the both of you into undead. I suggest you vacate before that happens. Escape far away and live in peace.”

Sighing, the Village Chief said, “I’ll prepare enough funds for your journey.”

“Thank you, Chief.” Gahreena said before returning to her house, touching the stone walls once as she basked in nostalgia, “For all my life, I have lived here.”

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She recalled the scene from when her family of four lived happily, tearing up a little before she resolved herself, dragging Hibak with her, “Come, let’s pack our belongings. We cannot stay here any longer.”

“I’ll fight!” Once they entered their house, Hibak wiped his tears, expressing his hatred, “If he dares to return, I’ll be the one to kill him!”

“You cannot!” Gahreena picked up a jute bag, the finest of its kind in her possession and began to place their belongings within, grumbling, “You’re not even a Mage. And, even if you become a Mage, you’ll be unable to defeat your brother.”

“You only have an Indigo Tome. Though powerful, it can never hope to win against a Black Tome.” She sighed, “Now, don’t waste our time. We must first head towards another village and think of our future from there.”

“But…mother!” Hibak protested, intending to pick up a weapon when Gahreena smacked him on the head.

“Shut up for a moment!” Eyes seething with rage, her face was pale while a thin streak of blood dripped down her lips. She had bitten them in anger, cursing, “I told you to pack your belongings. Are you deaf?”

“Sorry,” Hibak rubbed his head, controlling his urge to cry once again as he picked up a jute bag and placed the clothes he had within it. There were only a couple of sets anyway.

He then gazed at the stone shelf embedded into the wall, looking at the sole book placed there, hesitant for a moment before picking it up, muttering, “This was father’s most precious picture book. He always talked about how hard it was to get his hands on this in the Head Village.”

He carefully placed it within the jute bag, picking up a copper knife that he always trained with, slinging it to his hip as he turned around, “Mother, let’s go.”

“It’s good that you’re back to normal.” Gahreena slung her bag onto her back, rubbing his head a little, “Sorry that I hit you. Did it hurt?”

“No,” Hibak muttered, “As if something like this would hurt, considering what Gazar had done.”

“Let’s not talk about it in the presence of others. You know the reputation Necromancers have, right?” She sighed, holding his hand as they exited the house, noticing a small crowd had already gathered before her house, looking at her with expressions of pity.

“Gahreena, you don’t need to leave. Even if you have lost your husband, you still have us to support you.” A middle-aged lady said with tears welling up in her eyes, “You don’t need to leave our home.”

“We’ll be gone for a couple of years. Only in this way can I bear to face them.” She clenched her hand into a fist, “There are too many memories of them here. I’m afraid I’ll go insane if I remain here any longer.”

“Gahreena…” The middle-aged lady shouted, watching her friend leave the village, her birthplace, the place she had spent all her life fighting as a Mage to protect. And now, following the tragedy of her family, she left the place, hunched of her former self, suffering from the worst of nightmares upon recalling the memory of her youth.

With her son in tow, Gahreena left the village, proceeding to walk through a beaten path.

“Gahreena!” Shouting at his limits, the Village Chief sprinted through the area, panting as he stopped before the departing duo, dragging a horse alongside, “Take this! You’ll tire yourself otherwise.”

“But…this is one of the only four horses in our village. If I take this…” She shook her head, “I cannot impose on you any more than this.”

“No, take it! You need it more than us!” The Village Head said through gritted teeth, “I and Heruhen grew up together. If I don’t allow him to rest in peace, I won’t be satisfied. So, take this horse and put it to good use.”

“And,” He placed a small jute bag in her hands, “There are 100 Mana Stones in it. Please use it to help my friend.”

“You can count on it.” Gahreena nodded, not planning to refuse his goodwill any longer, keeping the small jute bag safe inside her clothes. She and Hibak boarded the horse, traversing through the beaten path as their figures vanished from view.

Upon seeing the sky darken, the Village Chief hurried back to the village, informing the guards, “Everyone remain alert tonight. There is a chance we may face a second wave of attacks from him.”

“Yes, Chief!” The guards nodded and became alert as the sunlight soon vanished, causing the place to become dark. The only source of light was from the bonfire lit at the centre of the village and the faint luminescence from a violet-coloured moon in the sky.

The light it emitted was so faint that the guards had to rely on the bonfire and the torches they carried with them.

Beyond the village gate, hidden amidst a thicket of trees was a certain individual, a boy around 15 years of age, sporting a deathly pale face. His eyes were like that of a rat’s as he stared at the village entrance, glaring, “That cunning fox actually gave them a horse to travel.”

“This will cause a setback to my plans. There is no way I can catch up to those on horseback.” He frowned, raising his hand forth to condense a book with complex hieroglyphics inscribed on its front.

It was a jet-black book, lacking any presence or even a material form for that matter, silently hovering above his palm as he flipped through the three pages present, focusing on the second where the image of a skeletal horse was drawn, grinning, “Thankfully, I have the Skill to create a Bone Horse. With this, I’ll be able to catch up to them eventually.”

“Wouldn’t you say so, dad?” He turned around, grinning at a figure that stood right behind him, one that sported a wide hole in its chest.