A fire crackled and whined. The wood within only just dry enough to burn. It wasn't by design that the current scenery was comparable to the start of my story. But the irony of it was not lost on me. Honestly, the only difference between the two moments was how many faces surrounded the crackling flames and the danger lying in wait just beyond the long shadows it cast.

"First introductions are the foundation of a relationship. And the unfortunate truth is that if we meet with the wrong appearance, our relationship may suffer." I started my story, the words flowing like oil on hot metal.

Chapter one: Husk, Age of Monsters, location unknown.

The Boy sat rigid as a board, terrified by the figure across from the small fire. He'd been hiding in these woods ever since his parents died a week ago, praying to any god that would listen that the lords' men didn't discover him, but now he wished that had been his fate. He'd felt hunger beyond anything he could imagine while in these woods. He'd spent every night crying, damning the world for taking away his parents. But still, he'd stayed out here, afraid of what he'd face back in town, fearful of going to an orphanage, or worse, a work camp. But now, he knew with every fiber of his being that those would have been far better fates than the one he was dealt.

A Husk. That is what he saw across the fire. There was no mistaking it for anything else, not at this distance. It was exactly like The Boy's mom used to describe it. It had the rotting baggy bandages covering every inch of skin, or maybe that was this monster's skin, The Boy didn't know. Its limbs were gangly, disgusting, almost too thin to be on something living, more sticks wrapped in a few layers of cloth than anything functional. Where its face should have been, the head otherwise shaped like a skull, there was instead a flat stretch of those rotting bandages. It looked almost as if someone's face was cleaved off just behind the cheekbones, and if the wrappings weren't there, The Boy would see a hollow void.

Then there was the fear. A prickling sensation of unbridled terror screened every one of The Boy's thoughts. A seave of horror, contorting the memory of the forest into ones filled with twisting shadows and dark whispering corners. No matter the subject, every thought was now one that left The Boy on the brink of screaming. He couldn't think past the light cast by the flames, nor could he bring himself to cry for help. He was all but paralyzed.

Before this moment, The Boy had thought of husks as a fairy tale. A story his mother would tell him to scare him. Even now, he wished that was the case, but The Boy knew it wasn't. The horrible ache of hunger in The Boy's gut reminded him that he couldn't be dreaming. The bloody blisters on his feet spoke that same reminded every time The Boy moved. This was reality; the monster across the fire was not a figment of The Boy's imagination, no matter how much he prayed it was.

"Relax, I don't bite." Came a rasping, tortured voice, like the howling winds over the mountaintops mixed together with the guttural roar of torrential rain, bound together to somehow imitate speech.

Words did nothing to abate the fear of the Boy. All it did was make it worse. A wild animal or mindless beast was one thing, but something with intelligence that still did what Husks were said to do was genuinely horrifying. He'd always heard stories about husks from his parents and teachers. The excessive aggression in those stories had been what convinced The Boy they were fairy tales, not something real. Nothing was so pointlessly violent as the creature in those tails, right? Why would something tear you apart for the sake of it? Such a thing couldn't be real. Regardless, one thing was always the same in all of the stories, if you are alone and you see a Husk, you are already dead. And Being alone had been the entire reason The Boy was hiding in the woods. Why he'd risked leaving town and going into the wilds.

"What are you doing out this far, Boy?" The rasping imitation of a voice grated on the boys' ears. It was painful to listen to, like a high-pitched whine so loud it left you with a splitting headache.

"Hiding." The Boy sniveled out, hoping that he could delay the end and possibly be saved from his fate by speaking.

"Ah, what did you do? Did you steal something? Did you kill someone? What reason do you have to hide out here, so far from town?" The rasping voice seemed to come from every direction, but at the same time, it was clear the source was The Husk across the flames. Like every shadow cast by the fire was yelling the words, but only one of them was clear enough to understand.

"N- n- no." The Boy's voice shook from fear and his previous crying. "M-" The Boy choked on the words. He hadn't yet found himself able to say Mom and Dad are dead. But The Boy feared that if he held his tongue here, he'd join them all too soon. "My parents died, so they're going to take me to the orphanage."

"What's wrong with the orphanage?" The creatures seemed to drift down into something resembling a sitting position while speaking. Its movements were impossibly smooth like it didn't have to waste time accelerating or stopping. It was moving, then it wasn't. It lacked the slight jerk of muscles, the twitch of the hand as it stopped, the shake of the body as it halted the weight it'd put into motion. It was uncanny.

"It's horrible there." The Boy kept talking, spewing words once used by his parents. "They don't have enough beds, and everyone has to share. They don't get fed every day. I'd spend every day working just to survive. I'd never achieve anything." The Boy said with tears in his eyes. "I'd never do what I told them I would." The Boy said, remembering the last thing he'd said to his mom.

"And what did you promise them. What's worth the risk out here? Do tell." That horrible sound continued, like squawking birds and cracking stones stuck together by the incessant cries of a baby.

"The Boy hung his head lower, his vision turning away from The Husk and the flames. "I promised them I'd become the world's best wizard." The Boy muttered, his mind barely willing to say it anymore.

"Laughable." Rasped the creature, a grotesque feeling of pitty laced through the sound.

"No, it's not!" The Boy Cried into his legs, forgetting his fear for a moment. "My parents believe I can do it."

"Parents?" The monster asked sharply. "The dead ones?" It continued, poking at The Boy's emotions.

Y-yes. said the Boy deflating even further, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Then tell me. Are you honoring their dying wish, sitting out here, in the dark, away from a bed, or any chance at success they might have left you?" It seemed to mock The Boy with every word.

"..." The Boy couldn't respond. The monster was right. It didn't matter if he couldn't become a wizard if he went to the orphanage. His chances at success were all but abysmal out here in the woods. The only difference was that, out here, he'd put himself in a position where he was going to die.

"That is what's laughable." The Husk rasped out a sharp closure to the topic. It knew The Boy wouldn't respond further, not to this line of discussion. "Well, Boy, let's get to why I'm here." Rasped the Husk, a finality mixed into its monstrous tone.

The Boy looked up, panic in his eyes. He wasn't ready to die. He wanted to back away, but the fear held him too tightly. But he couldn't lift his arms. He tried to scream, but his voice wouldn't come out of his throat. Every muscle in his body spasmed, trying to move The Boy away from the danger in any way it could. All that this managed to accomplish was holding The Boy in place, shaking like it was the coldest night of winter.

In that same uncannily smooth way, The Husk reached forward a single, clawed, bony hand. The ends of each finger looked beyond dangerous. To the point that The Boy feared he'd cut himself by staring. It cut across the fire, the flames bending around it like fish in water. It moved closer to The Boy's face with every passing instant. A lump formed in The Boy's chest, fear battling over the desire to watch what that dangerous set of claws was about to do. Until his fear took over, and his eyes slammed shut. His desire to watch losing out to terror, his willingness to look death in the face, fading to a silent plead that it would come painlessly.

The Boy's heart pounded in his chest. The sound so unbearably loud that it drowned out the crackling of the fire. The sound of his blood rushing past his ears flooded his mind, clearing away every extraneous thought.

Thoughts of every way this monster could kill him rushed through The Boy's head. Would it cut his throat? Rip his heart from his chest? Would the death be painless, would it be agonizing? What kind of horrible scene would people find once he was gone? Would anyone recognize his body? Would The Husk leave his face intact? If it ripped him to shreds, how long would he feel it? What would remain of his body at the end of this night? A pool of blood? A pile of bones? What horrible torture was The Boy about to endure before his death? Question after horrible question spiked through The Boy's mind. Until finally, one came that was different than the rest.

>Why hasn't anything happened?< The Boy asked himself.

That question started a gradual shift away from the self-feeding cycle of fear. It took a few moments and a few reminders that he wasn't dead. But eventually, The Boy managed to re-open his eyes.

What he saw was outside his expectation. Instead of the empty clawed hand, he now saw a leather-bound book with golden runes inlaid across the cover.

You wish to become a wizard, correct?" The Husk asked, its voice dripping with acidic tones. "I guarantee that no path exists that is better than this book. A book with lessons on spells and mana and everything in between. I offer you such a book." The Husk's horrible voice danced around The Boy's mind, flicking at temptation and desires.

The Boy was floored. He thought he was about to die. He'd accepted that he'd become yet another foolish soul, lost to the wilds. The Boy thought he'd end up a smear on the dirt, lost in the trees never seen by another. Not only was he not dead, the creature that everyone said should have killed him thousands of times over was offering him a book on magic. It was sheer madness.

"Why?" The Boy managed to squeak out. In his mind, this was nonsense draped in crazed ideals.

"Must I have a reason?" The Husk asked in return.

"What's in it for you?" The Boy clarified his question, his voice quivering with fear and a small amount of excitement.

"If I must get something, let it be a favor." The Husk said. "One day, I will ask for something. When I do, you will oblige such a request. How does that sound to you?" It rattled through terms that felt like snakes in the grass. But The Boy didn't care.

If he survived tonight, it was at the whim of this monster. Anything past that was merely a bonus.

"Ah uh umm." The Boy spluttered, his tongue refusing to move correctly. He could barely wrap his head around the idea that he just might get to live, which was fumbling his thoughts too much for him to speak.

The Husk slowly extended the hand with the book forward, offering it to the Boy. But all he could do was stare in wonder and terror. His body refused to act how he wished.

"Haaah." An almost normal-sounding sigh came from the Husk as it began slowly withdrawing the book.

Panic set into The Boy's mind. Would this monster decide to kill him if he didn't move now? Would he waste this opportunity at life, at something more? Not if he could help it.

"I accept!" The Boy nearly shouted, seeing the opportunity pull away from him. "I'll give you a favor," The Boy repeated a bit more calmly while reaching for the book.

"Till we next meet." The Husk said, letting the book fall into The Boy's extended hands. Then it was gone like it was never there to begin with.