Lightning struck down from a cloudless sky with a deafening crash. Dark brown blood and rotten pieces of meat were scattered across the thicket as the Vren imploded from the bolt.

Kollyn panted heavily, catching his bearings as the scent of the kill reached his nose. Stifling a gag, he looked around. Four of the six creatures lay dead, their bodies either cut by his sword or ruptured from the lightning bolts. Two still stood, circling him slowly whilst crawling on all fours.

They were eerily humanoid, yet there was no humanity in those piercing eyes. They were eyes focused on but one thing; to kill. The Vren were merciless and uncaring, slaughtering all they could find in their path. Only death would stop them.

Kollyn was intended on giving them that death. For two years now he had been chasing down rumours and sightings of the creatures so he could dispose of them before they found their way into villages and towns. Too many innocent men, women and children had already found their way to an early grave.

The two Vren attacked simultaneously from opposite sides. In the last second, Kollyn dodged sideways, causing them to crash into one another. Drawing on the power within him, Kollyn willed a lightning strike to hit both at the same time. The overwhelming feeling of anger filled him before the bolt struck.

Much to his dismay, it struck over a dozen feet away from where the Vren were crawling back up. Not for the first time did Kollyn curse his lack of control. Sword in hand, he positioned himself to face the incoming attack. The creatures charged, tumbling over one another as they tried to be the first to reach Kollyn. Using the inner squabble to his advantage, Kollyn rushed forward just as one of the two Vren tripped and began to roll over. Not giving it time to regain its balance, he brought down his sword and cut clean through the nape of the monster’s neck.

The arm and claws of the second Vren smashed into his side, sending him hurtling into the forest’s undergrowth and almost into a small creek. A stab of pain rushed through him from where the claws had pierced his flesh, warm blood leaking through his hardened leather.

The Vren charged again, its mind set on nothing else but to kill. Kollyn readied himself and waited until the creature was just close enough. At the last second, he rolled back into the creek. The creature stumbled forward with a snarl and half fell, half jumped over the creek. In that same moment, Kollyn pierced upwards and struck right where the heart would be. With a final dying screech, the last of the Vren finally fell.

Covered in blood and gore, Kollyn climbed a few feet up the stream of the creek and began to wash away the mess. To his relief, the wound in his side wasn’t too serious, and once most of the blood was washed away, he made his way towards his sack and began cleaning the wound. There were more cuts and bruises than he could count, but then again, he had never faced this many Vren at the same time before.

When finished, he began moving all six bodies, or what remained of them, and laid them next to one another. Adding some firewood and oil, he then set the slaughtered Vren alight, careful not to inhale the fumes they produced. He had made that mistake only once.

“May your souls find their way into Iodigar once more,” he whispered softly. “May this be your true last passage before finding eternal rest.”

The familiar feeling of satisfaction filled him from within. Just like the anger he felt when willing the lightning strikes, he knew the feeling wasn’t his own. It had been there for as long as he could remember, yet he had never come to know what it was exactly. He hated and feared those emotions for what they had once done, but he also knew he would be long dead without them.

“You have done well,” a voice came from behind. Kollyn turned and dropped to his knees immediately, forehead touching the ground. He dared not look at the man.

“I only serve,” he responded reverently.

“So you do,” the voice of the Ligtyr continued. “How long have you been with the Keepers now, son?”

“Five years,” Kollyn answered. “Two of which outside the Hall.”

“Two very productive years. There are those who wish to see you Elevated. Would you agree with them?”

Kollyn gasped softly. Elevated. “It would be an honour, one of which I hope to be worthy.”

The voice chuckled, and Kollyn heard his clothes rustling. A hand touched his shoulder.

“Then be Elevated,” the voice said, and a warm sense of comfort began to spread from where he was touched. Something was crawling across and through the skin of his left shoulder, he realized, yet there was no pain. The strange sensation carved its way in a seemingly random pattern and when complete, there was a brief flash of a deeper sensation.

From within, a sense of curiosity emerged, almost startling Kollyn. It was a feeling he had not experienced before.

“We will await your arrival in Lunard,” the Ligtyr’s voice said.

Kollyn remained kneeling for a short moment, but when he looked up, he was alone again, accompanied only by the stench of burning, rotten flesh. He took off his vest and traced his fingers across the mark that he was given. The language of the Effylscript was known to him, yet he could not decipher the pattern that now adorned his skin.

Worries for later, he thought. He had a long trip ahead.