It was a day just like any other. I was at my post on guard outside the city treasury. I was just one of multiple guards and due to how heavily protected the treasury was it ended up being a very laid back job. Occasionally we would deal with pickpockets and other petty crimes in the immediate vicinity but very few were unintelligent enough to commit such offenses so usually the days passed by without incident.

I had been at this post for many years but I never slacked off, the ones who did were summarily stripped of their ranks and transferred to less savory positions. Even though I occasionally daydreamed about becoming a captain of the guard or even a knight I would always remember the family counting on me to provide for them and I remained content with the safe job I currently enjoyed.

That day was as uneventful as the rest, there had been some rumors about some cult recently but no crimes had been linked to such a thing. A guard assigned to distributing orders and recent news arrived at the treasury and handed out a small roll of paper to each of the guards. Using my guard's signet I unsealed the roll and it briefly flashed with the bright glare of magic.

Written inside was a gruesome report. In a warehouse on the outskirts of the city a group of cultists had been found this morning after they had committed some sort of ritual suicide. The bodies had been drained of their mana. But what was more disturbing was the facial expressions of the cultists that had been preserved after their death. Their faces were frozen in expressions filled with absolute terror mixed with some perverse form of ecstasy. All guards were to keep a lookout for any people wearing similar cultist garb and anyone who looked like a mage, as it was possible that they were killed by a mind mage disguising the act as suicide.

After reading such a story I looked up and glanced around wairily, praying that I wouldn't see a strange cultist lurking in a dark side alley. Looking back now I wonder if it was fate that I would look up at that moment or if I had accomplished some great deed that saved me from what was to come. Looking around the square I sighed in relief when I failed to spot any shady characters.

However something felt out of place so I checked again and noticed that Mrs. McCoy, a woman who was a regular at the nearby bakery, was kneeling on the ground with her hands covering her head. Concerned, I quickly walked toward her and called out, "Mrs. McCoy, are you alright?" She didn’t answer and as I neared I began to hear her gasping as if out of breath and whimpering slightly. I called out to her again as I gently put my hand on her shoulder, "Hey, what is the matter?" Despite my physical contact she didn’t look up but began to mutter between gasps, "the... the.. Daggers... they.. stabbed themselves.... daggers... stab... daggers... stab... daggers... stab... stab.. Stab..."

My face filled with horror, remembering the news report, I realized she must have witnessed the act. Quickly forcing the expression off my face I began trying to calm her down, "It's okay, it's over now... It's okay, it's over now.." However my efforts bore no fruit as her breathing became more ragged and her mumbling grew more frantic. For the first time since I rushed over Mrs. McCoy lifted her head to look at me and, still repeating "stab" frantically, she stared right into my eyes.

The rest of the world began to fade into a blood red haze as I stared into her unblinking eyes.

Eyes that appeared as the gate to the abyss.

Eyes with tears of blood seeping out of the corners.

Eyes that seemed to suck the soul right out of my body.

I had seen those eyes before.

Eyes I had never want to remember.

They were the eyes of absolute terror.

The terror that gives birth to madness.

I was desperate to look away but unable to do so. Fear began building inside me, overwriting my rationality. Fear so great it felt like it was seeping into me. It seemed as if I could feel the fear taking over my soul.

Then like a flash a thought came rising up and pushed back the fear. The memory of my daughter's smiling face. My soul cried out, "She needs me! I can't become like him, I just can't!" Willpower built inside me as I struggled with all my might to throw off the fear.

But the fear seemed to have noticed. Something began flowing into me from the outside, strengthening the fear, helping it grow. My vision grew more and more red, leaving only those blood-filled eyes in my sight.

Just as I was about to lose to the fear and succumb I felt a blast of pure mana flowing over me in waves. The mana shook my consciousness, threatening to knock me out. I managed to endure however and realized that the mana was pushing back the fear. It soothed my mind and I began to think of it as a song.

My vision clearing, I realized I was in a similar state to Mrs. McCoy when I first saw her. I struggled to my feet and looked around for the source of the mana that saved me. Then I saw him, a tall man with bright blue eyes and hair, shimmering with the light of magic.

He noticed that I was getting up and spoke, "You are quite impressive, here take this."

He handed me a small blue pill the color of his hair and eyes.

"What's this for?" I asked.

He replied, "I just blasted all the mana out of you, you won't live much longer if you don’t restore it a little."

I quickly took the pill, knowing how bad it is to be out of mana, and stood up. When I looked around I noticed the carnage in the square. There were people running in fear all over. Some were still sane, while others had succumbed to madness and began attacking others around them.

As time went by the first group dwindled while the second only grew. The man who saved me walked around the square firing a wavering beam of mana toward those who had lost themselves to fear. They would shortly collapse and he would walk up and feed them the small blue pill. I watched dumbfounded at the amount of mana the man had as he systematically repeated the process with all those remaining in the square.

I broke out of my stupor as he finished and began to move to other parts of the city.

I rushed up to him and yelled "Wait!"

Although I yelled for him in such an undignified manner he showed no signs of irritation as he turned and asked, "What is it?"

"Sir, please, I have to know, is the whole city like this?" I asked in a desperate tone of voice.

"Unfortunately that is the case." He replied.

I fell down on my knees looked up at him and begged, "Please sir, I know you have done so much for me already, but my wife... my daughter.. Please save them!!"

He thought for a second and replied, "Ok, the whole city is infected anyway, I don’t mind you deciding the path I take to help stop this."

For a moment I was stunned speechless as I hadn't expected him to agree so easily.

Then he spoke up one more and threw me a large sack, "However if we are to make it there as soon as possible I need you to give out the pills."

I was about to open my mouth to say something when he said, "Let's go, lead the way."

The old man paused his story and spoke to his grandson who sat across from him.

"And that was how I met the greatest mage our world has ever known. He's still out there somewhere, helping those who cannot help themselves."

The young man spoke back, "Wow I can't believe that really happened! That sounded super scary! But wait what happened next?!"

A sad look ran across the grandfather's face as he spoke once more, "We worked our way across the city saving as many as we could, however there were many we could not save in time. Eventually we managed to make it to my home where we saved my daughter, your mother. Alas, for my wife, your grandmother, we were too late. She had given her life to protect your mother."

The grandfather paused tears filling his eyes for a moment before he continued.

"As for the mage with the blue eyes and hair he parted ways with me there and continued throughout the city and eventually saved it completely by eliminating the source."

The boy eyes filled with curiosity at his grandfather's words asked, "What was the source?"

The grandfather replied, "That is a story for another time."