After spending a little over a week inside the coldness of a winter forest, Magus has decided to move on with his plans. He saw the strength meager humans could muster and had he not had the undead puppets to buy him time, he probably wouldn’t exist at this moment. It was worrying, but, naturally, not the end of the world, as he was quite confident that his current guards could be used in the same way. Thankfully, the unfaltering army of steel did not pursue him, and in fact moved entirely elsewhere. Accompanied by a few servants, he sent the woman to check on them, chained of course, as it wouldn’t be a big loss if she died, and they followed the army as far to the south as possible, but had to stop as according to her the land belonged to a strong Duke, thus had many eyes everywhere. Surprisingly she could be quite cooperative, making Magus question whether to kill her or not. Undead were naturally too dumb to do such secretive tasks after all.

“So, what’s your plan?” she asked, knowing no clear answer will come. She always did this, trying to grasp the undead’s thoughts at any given time. It was a hard nut to crack to say the least.

“Make servants,” he answered, bringing a mangled wolf to unlife. “Many servants…” he turned another. “And then…” his trail of though cut off as he ordered the wolf around. First it sat, then ran around in circles, finally jumping upwards five or so meters and running off into the forest.

The succubus looked at this weird creature, trying to comprehend what was going on behind that silver mask, inside it’s ivory skull. She already knew to not apply common sense to it, but even then all that she could grasp was how naïve his plan was. Killing the living – that’s the purpose of the undead, but many of them tried to conquer with numbers and all failed. Even the strongest undead of legends whom was equal in strength to the Demon King failed in the same way, even with a hundred thousand undead in the palm of his hand.

“You know,” she gulped at the thought of what she was about to do. “You won’t win like this.”

Immediately the crimson man turned to her, feeble sun glinting off his mask. “Win?”

“Yes…” She said after a short pause. His directness and sudden changes of tone still baffled her sometimes. “You’re not the first. Many have done what you are doing right now… and failed.”

He did not answer, staying silent for an eerily long time. The more she looked at him, the more he reminded her of a statue. Ancient, unwavering, unmoving, and forever the same. How old is he anyway? Undead could ‘live’ for a very, very long time. He could be thousands of years old for all she knew. Meaning his intelligence could also be more than the living could ever achieve or imagine. It was frightening to even think about.

“Your plan is naïve. You can’t do what you want alone. You need allies.” She paused, standing up from the cold snow and confidently raising her chin. “I can help you…if you set me free.”

He sighed, producing a sound too weird to put into words. “You, you, you.” Its teeth clattered with a chuckle. “You have it all wrong. Who said I will do it alone?”

“What do you mean?”

Before he could answer a nearby tree bent against an unknown force. It was Colossus, the enormous undead creature Magus created with his own hands. A human body was tied to its chest. His skin was as dry as leather while the eyes as white as snow.

“Human mind is weak, you wouldn’t understand.” He touched the man’s cheek like a mother would. “Though your offer is tempting.”

“The-”

“But,” he cut her off as usual. “How can you guarantee your loyalty?”

Naturally there was no way to do that.

He sighed at her silence. “This is the problem with the living. They’re treacherous, disloyal, dumb, weak, yearning, and, on top it all, are hard to control… A waste of time and space, so to say.”

The white-eyed man suddenly convulsed, as if paralyzed until now but finally free, his body, or perhaps the rope, creaked in response to this sudden struggle. With incomprehensible screeching he frothed at the mouth, trying to bite his long gone tongue off. Even though he was obviously once human, his hands and feet possessed jagged claws while his limbs were stretched out as if dislocated. Behind the white foam hid razor-sharp teeth capable of crushing bone.

Magus approached the madman naturally, as if they knew each other for a long time, and placed his bare, bony fingers on the balding head. The shadows seemingly flickered in response and, almost immediately upon contact, the withered man stopped struggling. They stood like that only for a few seconds, though it seemed like an eternity to the eyes of the demon watching and trying to comprehend what was taking place.

The first to break the silence was Magus. “Be happy,” he cut off the rope and the outstretched man fell onto the snow. His evil eyes flared up like coals and he ran off on all fours with surprising dexterity. “that you’re still alive. Don’t overstep the grounds you’ve been blessed with.”

***

With a slothful rhythm snow fell from the dark heavens into the forests of mortal lands. Dark trees stirred as wind blew them with chaotic force, ravens cried under the solemn moonlight in a flight of madness. On the ground a group of four people trudged through heavy snow, pulling a wooden sled stacked with freshly-cut logs. Clouds of warmth escaped their mouths concurrently, lantern’s flame trembled in wonder of the darkness it still had to beat.

“Damn. Where did Henry fuck off,” said Canus, a dwarf of a man. A thick winter coat covered his child-sized body, likely made out of a wolf’s pelt. “Don’t tell me he got tired of this fucking wasteland?”

“He has a son, doesn’t he? In the south I mean. Maybe left for him?” Answered Nannik, the broke peddler from midland. Just like Canus’, he wore a thick coat, though this one was obviously better looked after, and cleaner.

“A wench, or was it a prostitute?”

“They’re pretty much the same.”

“True enough,” Canus said with a chuckle, glancing at the moving shadows every three seconds or so. “I doubt he’d leave… Though I also can’t imagine him getting caught in some mess. Not here.”

The men nodded in unison, seemingly creating a collective atmosphere of respect and admiration for the man in question. They knew him for over a decade and he was not one to get into trouble. In fact, he usually got others out of it.

“But it’s also a fact that he disappeared without trace,” The oldest of the group said, breaking the moment the men had created with his blunt tone and rough voice. He had a wide frame with an old gambeson and a bear pelt over it, battered leather shoes, stained pants and one gauntlet on his right arm – he was like a wildman warped by society. A gashing scar across his cheek enhanced the already beast-like face. “In spring we’ll know, when the snow leaves and reveals the remnants.” Few of them clenched their hands, wanting to reject his words, but knew at heart that they were probably true.

Noticing their reaction, the wildman sighed and spoke. “We’ll gather a search party in the morning, but I doubt many will join. He wasn’t the most popular after all.”

“Joar,” suddenly said a thin man at the back. His face was hidden under a hood, but guessing from the bow in his hands he was a hunter. “Thanks for your help, but you’re an ass. I know you used to be an adventurer and know these things, but please spare us the details. We’re not used to searching for our dead friends…”

“I don’t care,” shot back Joar. “This is not a matter of being used to. You have to always be ready to face the worst. Always. I’ve seen too many good men fall to despair as their hopes were shat on by the gods.”

This seemed to pull at the strings of the thin man as he began obsessively stroking the hilt of his dagger while scowling like a hawk. If this was a go at intimidating the giant of a man, it didn’t work, as he didn’t even look at him when he spoke.

“Did you hear that?” said Canus all of a sudden.

“You mean Silver?” said Nannik, glancing at the thin man who was still grinding his teeth at Joar. “That’s gotta be bad for you, man. I always wondered why someone would name their child like that, did your parents try to scam someone?” He forced a laugh, noticing Silver wasn’t amused.

“Stop it, he’s grinding his teeth aga-” “Silence,” shushed Canus, glancing from side to side. An axe was already in his hand, informing everyone to do the same. “Something’s watching us.”

Dead silence fell the group as they stood back to back expecting…something. But nothing came, making it even scarier as they had the time to let their imagination roam free. Another few minutes passed and they began to doubt Canus’ words, he was advancing in years after all. Even if he used to be a scout in the army they couldn’t trust him wholeheartedly anymore.

“There,” he said, pointing at the deep darkness behind them, where they came from. In the pitch blackness two dim lights floated, sometimes moving to the side as if to avoid their gaze. “What the hell are those?”

“Pixies, maybe?” guessed Nannik.

“What are you, a child?”

“I’m just thinking…”

Canus felt the presence since they left the logging camp, meaning it was following them for hours now. At the beginning he thought it was just a curious wild animal watching their group and paid it no heed. The dim lights were unnatural, at least not something a torch or lantern produced, as they didn’t light up anything but themselves and just stayed there, floating.

“Joar, what do you think? Have you seen something like this?” He looked at the giant man, surely he knew. Adventurers were the types to delve into the unknown and since he was still standing it meant he wasn’t all talk when it came to these things.

“Run,” he said, tossing Canus over his shoulder and pushing everyone back. “That’s a ghoul.”

“A ghoul?” asked Silver, reaching for his quiver.

“It’s a man-eater, arrows won’t do shit! Run if you wish to live!”