“In my search to uncover the secrets of the ruins I found deep in the untamed wilds of the western continent I stumbled upon a most curious inscription. From what I could translate, it seemed to warn us of a coming threat. To what they could be referring to I’m not sure.” - Algarius, Knower of a Thousand Lies

Kestel trudged through thickets of timber, hoping to emerge from the forest less confused than he had entered. Densely packed trees soon gave way to gaps of sunlight, and after a brief stint of hurried jogging Kestel came to a vista that overlooked a wide and stretching field. He was stood on a mildly high cliff face surrounded by hills that allowed a strenuous but straightforward means of descent.

“Well, wasn’t expecting this but I’ll take it.”

Kestel began to cautiously step down the hill making sure to place his feet on hard rock and not the slippery dew-filled grass that would send him spiralling towards a broken neck. As he continued down the hill an amber orb crested the mountains in the distance. The sun rays peeked over the peaks in a clear display of strength. Just as the brightness began to become inconvenient Kestel reached solid ground and the sun disappeared behind the ridge.

“Where am I supposed to go now?”

“The face-thing said that I had to remind us all of what came before.”

He adjusted his boots before setting off in a random direction, namely towards the sun.

“My friends gather! Gather ‘round!”

In pitch black darkness an assembly began to form, leagues below the surface. The rocky interior of their hide out added to the spartan feel one got after gazing upon their bedding and eating quarters.

“I have listened for the voids whispers and it has granted me foresight.”

A hush came over the crowd of beings, they were all covered in scraps of cloth and leather that somehow hid the putrid smell of the beings they clothed. Gnarled hands outstretched from the cohort and clasped together simultaneously.

“The Infant has gone to rest, his gaze no longer on us. Nigh is the time to reclaim our sacred lands.”

A murmur washed over the onlookers, some in the back of the pack shook their heads but those closest cheered in reverence of the Guided One.

“This’ll be the end of us all, can’t you see he’s leading us into a fucking deathtrap.”

“Hush, lest they hear you. We cannot speak here, come in here.”

Two of the beings scurried towards an alcove where they found some semblance of privacy, away from what had now turned into a mosh pit of delusion.

“We must leave immediately, I’ll gather our faithful and we’ll be deep in the mountains ‘fore they notice we’ve even saddled the Vysaks.”

“Indeed, this war that the Guided One is proposing may not benefit our kind. But our master has abandoned us, how are we to protect ourselves without the divine’s wrath.”

“Arm and steel is all we can hope to save us. Though I would rather not encounter anything in our escape.”

“The Tomes mentioned there was a divine’s phylactery in the mountains, or at least part of it. Perhaps we could ask it to aid us, though with those soft-skinned monstrosities prancing around it may not be wise.”

The horde of followers that were listening to the Guided One began to split up signalling that the two figures should split up. They stood up from their sitting place and walked in opposite directions from each other without saying another word.

Kestel huddled around a fire he had made earlier hoping to warm up. The giant trees that loomed over him did not help to calm his nerves.

“I’m gonna bet there’s a town within a day’s walk of here and if there isn’t, well then I guess the only thing I’ll be reminding anyone of is that if you don’t eat then you fuckin’ die.”

He put his hands towards the fire to warm them up, blowing hot air on his finger tips in hopes of banishing whatever freezing cold there was left. But instead of seeing the redness return to his fingers. A pattern began to surface on his skin, he followed up his arm and under his shirt where it lead to his heart. At his heart a spiral emerged, slightly pulsing with a white glow which then quickly disappeared as the pattern spread about his body.

Kestel’s heart felt like it was about to explode, he began clawing at the spiral itching for it to come off. The pattern would not dissipate, the more he scratched the more a numb feeling began to creep up his fingers. Slowly working its way up his hand until it began to feel cold, on his chest a frost began to appear. He moved his hand away from his chest and saw a visibly cold air emanating from his hand chilling the grass until it was solid.

“What’s happening to me?”