Isak and his father were once again returning to their wasteland village of Inicios empty handed after a hunting trip. Clouds were gathering and crowding out the sun as it approached the horizon, and every so often a stray snowflake would drift down onto the coarse dirt and sparse grass broken up by jagged rocks that filled so much of the Western Wastes.

Most of the villagers, mostly human with several families of minotaur, were already either home for the evening or sharing a drink at the local tavern. Smoke rose from the chimneys of all the small, simple wood and stone buildings as the father and son pair were already longing for those cozy interiors after being on their expedition. Still, they had their final task to complete after a barren hunting trip.

They spied the lone lizardfolk villager and captain of the guard lingering around the rock and stone basin that had been dug out into the village’s amphitheater. This year saw more of a communal celebration of the village’s two main religious traditions out of a combination of an arising sense of community in the young village and overall improving fortunes. The wild celebration of The Harvestman’s Revelry shared a decorated communal space with the more reserved Dedication of Lights as the two almost week-long holidays overlapped, starting in only a few days.

Descending Rain was given a token representation for the Captain.

Captain Zolin’s tongue flicked out, smell tasting two familiar individuals and their now usual lack of fresh meat as his eyes wandered over the two empty handed hunters who nonetheless seemed to be carrying news of what he should really be worrying about. Despite the heavy gray and blue winter wear obscuring most of his face, sagging shoulders and tail conveyed his feelings well enough before he could speak.

“That bad, Amado?” The lizardfolk asked the older human in his accented but otherwise flawless Wastelander.

The father and son pair came to a stop before him, and somberly nodded their heads. Amado sighed as he gestured out to the distant forests and foothills sitting on the horizon with his free hand. “The first snow just hit out there to make finding footprints even harder because of course. But even other signs of activity all appear old.”

The Captain groaned, pulling his woolen face covering down to reveal vibrant yellow scales with bands of black all twisted into a frown as he spoke to the boy next. “And how about the traps you have out there?”

“Uhh…” Isak nudged at the dirt with his spear, trying to think of a better way to break the news than what he had been going over in his head. “Only if sticks count? They would only count if they had been intentionally used to set off the traps…”

Captain Zollin’s head tilted as one eye widened. “And…did that happen?”

“It probably didn’t.” The boy said as he leaned on his spear in defeat.

“Probably?” The lizardfolk asked the older human.

Amado looked down to the ground, stroking his thick black beard for only a few seconds before shaking his head. “I checked them myself because there was little else to check. And I wanted to be sure. It was either random sticks falling, or someone so skilled they could make it look like an accident. Why would they do this? I’m even less certain of that.”

A part of the guard wanted to believe that the seasoned hunter was mistaken and fooled, but in his hundred and seven years he had met precious few hunters of his skill. “Nothing else? Anything at all to explain why there’s no game to be had around here now? Less than a normal winter?”

“It’s not what I’m finding, it’s what I’m not finding.” The older hunter leaned in with a worried look. “Anything! No tracks, no scat, no carcasses. No old camps that other hunters didn’t tell me about. It’s like some new threat entered the area and all the beasts fled. It could be rival hunters from far out coming to our corner of the wasteland with nothing better to do but…”

“We did find one carcass!” Isak chimed in, desperate to help in any way. “Okay, it was old but…I dunno, maybe some ritual thing?”

The captain snorted. “Kazimir would be the one to ask about that but…oh go ahead, show me. I’ve seen plenty in my years.”

The boy cast a quick illusion spell to show the captain the old deer carcass in question. It did indeed look like it had possibly been arranged in a certain way before scavengers had picked at it. Only possibly.

“You’ll have to ask the old mage.” The lizardfolk confirmed with another sigh. “It might be the remains of some ritual, and that ritual might be some odd benign thing like what the weather was going to be. Nothing you recognized, Amado?”

Amado’s shrug was the only thing he could offer the Captain, who scrunched his eyes up in time with his hide and wool wrapped tail thrashing behind him in the dirt. “I can make a request for Regional to send someone out to investigate but…strange happenings that haven’t shown an immediate threat would make it a very low priority. Food reserves are fine enough to throw celebrations, livestock are in good health, and no one even has the sniffles. The only way that Regional sends someone is if this turns out to be part of something bigger, or they’re bored.”

Amado raised his finger to make a point before immediately shooting it down in his head, shaking the thought away as he readjusted the hunting bow over his shoulder. “Nothing to go and start canceling festivities over?”

“Might be nothing, might be everything.” The Captain nodded along with the recited fact of wasteland life. “Keep an eye out for both, and until then settle for killing me with all that festival food.”

“Free food and you’re complaining, now you’re starting to sound like us!” Amado cracked a smile, going along with the conversational shift as there was nothing good to be had with the prior one. “And I know you can’t get enough of the stuff!”

“Exactly!” The Captain gestured with his axespear to the skies. “Previous years were bad enough with your people inviting me in to have ‘just a little to eat’, now you’re making a village celebration out of it! Bimuelos and cheese are going to lay me low where one hundred and five years failed! And that’s before The Harvestman’s Revelry starts!”

Isak let out a laugh, also letting the change in subject push aside some nerves. “That’s all our holidays, either lots of eating or no eating. Honestly this one is kinda minor so-”

“Still enough that it’s all going right to my tail! Now go!” He waved them off with mock indignation. “If I keep you any longer, Ezter will kill me before I can take one bite of fattening dough!”

The father and son shared a nervous laugh while glancing between one another, bidding The Captain farewell before hurrying off home. Theirs was one of the more humble homes, not being attached to an orchard of olive trees, no crops all arranged in ritual patterns for maximum growth, nor having any number of livestock. In the fading light of day, they saw only their personal garden as befitting their trade as hunters and the lady of the house’s work in making cheese with other women in the community.

Smoke was rising from the chimney, and from the smell of things a stew was well under way. The pair managed to one whole knock at the door before it was flung open and Ezter was pulling them into a hug. “You’re both LATE and TRYING to make me worry myself to death!”

Amado chuckled as he hugged his wife tight, the worrying woman not quite coming up to his shoulders. His son hadn’t quite caught up to him yet, and was that much closer to her kisses as he tried to explain away the situation. Failing miserably.

“Mom!” The boy protested while also failing to escape her embrace. “There wasn’t even anything out there!”

“Nothing out there but the unknown!” She said as she dragged both of them inside as Amado pulled the door shut behind them. “If it was wolves or bears or even monsters, then your poor mother could rest easy knowing you’ve dealt with all of those! But now anything could be stalking those woods! Like monster bears!”

As she was dragging the boy over to the dinner table, all already set, she let go of him to rush back over to her husband with a question on her hazel eyes. “And why were you keeping him so long?”

“Well, we had to be sure.” He reassured the woman who managed an even more olive complexion than his despite spending less time in the sun. “Either find the source of this strangeness or find Isak a familiar. Maybe both! And Captain Zolin had so many questions-”

“So he was holding you two up again?” Ezter asked with crossed arms and a raised brow.

“We were just telling him what we found!” Isak defended as he shucked off his layers of winter wear, hanging them on iron hooks on the wall. That his mother was in her standard green and yellow dress with an off white apron and hands on her hips did little to detract from the threat of ‘finish that thought, young man’. Truly, it only had the boy wincing and hesitating onward. “...which was nothing. But the informative kind of nothing!”

Amado had already hung up his own leathers and wool before he put his hands on his wife’s shoulders to spin her around into an embrace. “Ezter, you can hardly blame the good Captain for doing his job. Or our son for being as determined as his mother.”

Though she rolled her eyes, her relaxing stance in her husband’s embrace was enough to tell Isak he was in the clear. However his father’s wink over to him assured him of that fact as he sat down at the table once he was down to a simple shirt and trousers.

“I just worry is all…” Ezter offered as she and her husband took a seat at the table with Isak.

None could really fault her, especially with the strangeness going on in the surrounding wilderness of the Western Wastes outside Inicios. The conversation lingered on that strangeness for only a short while before shifting towards finding Isak a suitable familiar. When once again none of them had any solutions, Ezter defaulted back to claiming that they would “figure it out”.

Theirs was an especially humble home, consisting only of a main room with a hearth and his parents’ small bedroom. His own quarters consisted of the former storage attic converted into something of a bedroom for a boy who had been unable to stand up straight in there for years now. Excusing himself up there after eating and brushing his teeth was a simple matter of promising to take his study books out to his treehouse tomorrow if he was going to watch the traps there, and ascending a ladder at the edge of the main room.

A small mage lantern stored on a hook by the ladder had been his main source of light up here ever since he had received it as a birthday gift from his extended family.

Taking the light in hand and switching it on, he crawled over to his bedding and pulled a book from the small wooden crate holding his entire collection. Sure, there was the schoolhouse library that had an entire room filled with books, but these were his. Gifts from family, things that he had bought for himself from the few village shops or traveling traders with what money he could spare from hunting, and a few he won at school.

Setting the lantern down by his bed, his hand traced over the spines of the books before settling on “A Young Mage’s Introduction to Magic”. He had already read it countless times, as with every other book here, but like the rest it was a source of comfort. The particular comfort this one brought was tales of how he had, in theory, made it now. That a mage of any level of accomplishment could still live comfortably and not be huddled in a small attic in the middle of nowhere.

Isak set the book down, dressing for bed and crawling in with the blanket pulled up before reading from his book again. About how magic school mixed in students from all over The Empire, and one could expect to make like minded friends and not have to deal with having your closest acquaintances be your fellow small village students who shared none of your interests. He heard the distant murmurs of his parents discussing their finances and if there was anything at all possible to raise enough money to go to the nearest, yet still distant, city to buy a proper beast for a familiar rather than the mysteriously barren lands out here. The thoughts conjured from that were shoved aside along with his book as he got to the part about selecting a suitable familiar.

He reached over to the small switch on his lantern, hesitating as he eyed the knob to extinguish the light and marveling at the subtle craftsmanship of the brass and glass. Only for a moment he wondered if he would be able to trade that for a familiar that wouldn’t have him labeled as the worst mage in all of history. Seeing a dark brown eye wavering in the glass and staring back at him, he cursed himself for the thought before turning the light off and rolling over in his bed.

Sleep brought as much rest as Isak was used to getting these days with so many worries nibbling at the edges of his mind. Though he was still doing his best to brush them aside as he dressed for the day and had a quick breakfast with his parents as he informed them that he was going out to his treehouse again.

“You just checked the alarms there recently, son.” Amado said as he finished the last of his bread dipped in some olive oil.

“I know I know, but-”

“But you’re not going to miss the Dedication of Lights celebration tonight, are you?” His mother asked with a raised brow. “It might just be a minor holiday for us but the village has really put a lot of effort into coming together and having some shared celebrations this year!”

“Which I would never miss, but I just wanted to go out there and be sure I’ve caught nothing while getting a little studying in!” He hoisted up a backpack filled with books that he emphasized with a smile.

His parents shared a look of concern and had a silent debate between them that consisted of various facial expressions before his mother rolled her eyes with a sigh and said “Go see Kazimir to see if he has anything else for you to study up on. And just don’t stay out there all day!”

Isak was thanking and hugging them and out the door with his woolen cloak pulled on before either of them could change their minds. Using his hunting spear as a walking stick, he made his way to the center of the village where all of the larger buildings were gathered. The Town Hall may have been ambitiously named but still held a large gathering hall in addition to handling all matters of governance, standing two stories high with a peaked roof and bearing the finest woodworking of the local carpenters. It even maintained a small all traditions temple that the neighboring schoolhouse and library had used to teach a much younger Isak about the traditions of the world outside of Inicios.

The two main temples of the village had been built next to one another as though part of some unspoken rivalry that had never materialized into anything before disintegrating into welcoming all into festivals to educate about traditions.

And a short ways away were the shops that had cropped up over time in what ambition might one day turn into a market district. Including Krazy Kazimir’s Place of Magics, which consisted of a respectably sized aforementioned magic shop attached to a belltower standing tall over every single other thing in the village. All possible doubts or complaints over that had died the minute Kazimir had informed the town that it would be a part of a Nightspawn detection system stretching far out past the village limits and into the horizon.

“To keep me and my new neighbors safe!” The old mage had explained all those years ago when he had first moved here.

Isak pushed the door open with the sound of a small bell chiming above him. Leaning his spear into a rack near the entrance, he gawked around the shop filled with far more potions, magical items of every stripe, and artifacts of alleged authenticity than the village would ever need. Still, many traveling traders tended to linger in town a little longer to peruse his wares which inevitably led to wanting a local meal and browsing other shops.The old mage emerged from behind a curtain that led to the back of the shop, pushing aside the cloth with his staff and letting a broad grin cross his face as he saw his guest.

“Our people’s newest hope arrives!” Kazimir said while taking his place at the shop’s counter, easing himself onto a cushioned stool with a sigh. “How may an old man help you on today of all days when we should both be stuffing our faces full of food instead?”

“Hey, that still comes later!” Isak held up a hand to defend himself and brush off the misplaced praise. “My mom insisted I check in with you to see if you had anything else for me to study about magic-”

“You have the books I sold to you for the low low price of several home cooked meals.” The old mage shook his head and shrugged. “You’ll be learning from real magic teachers soon enough. I am but a humble magical craftsman, busy coming up with five new impossible wonders before lunch.”

The young mage raised an eyebrow as he crossed his arms. “Not before breakfast?”

“Some day you’ll find a wife, and if she’s good then she won’t let you go doing any crazy things on an empty stomach.” The thin old man said as he held a hand to his belly.

Isak rolled his eyes. “I have a mom for that.”

“You go from one woman who yells at you to eat more and be responsible to another!” Kazimir waved him off with a chuckle. “I go and I see why some cattle are missing, end up in a dragon’s den on top of an undiscovered ruin, shoo the smokey beasts out and grab a few shed scales and claws, recover bountiful treasure, and what am I told when I get back? What am I told? ‘If you didn’t forget breakfast you could have fought griffins too and found even more treasure and arcane artifacts!’ Gotta love them, isn’t that right Isak?”

The boy in question had absolutely no idea who the old man was even talking about, much less if any of that was even slightly true, as his mouth hung open and his brows knit together. He shook his head to discard the befuddled expression before nodding a hasty response accompanied by a toothy smile. Kazimir had made references to a wife in the past, but he had moved here alone and by all accounts never had any family visit him. Nor did he ever claim to visit family, only leaving on the occasional business trip. Having never felt it was his place to ask, Isak always left the subject alone.

And as with every other time, this was enough to placate the old man into returning the smile. “Ah you’re a good kid! Even if you keep trying to jump at the sun with a hoe just after waking up! And still before lunchtime!”

“Yeah but I actually ate breakfast.” Isak had heard that phrase enough to know that it meant he was trying for too much too fast, and smiled despite the old man clearly not understanding the desperate need to try for better things in life as soon as possible. “So uh…was there anything else you had for me to study for now?”

The old man stroked his dark gray beard that made up for the lack of hair on his head by living up to old stories of powerful old mages. He hummed and hummed to himself as he stood from his seat with the aid of his staff, and browsed the shelves of his own store as though they were a curiosity even to him.

“I haven’t been outside yet, but Tytus tells me it’s looking like a nice winter day.” He gestured upwards, presumably to wherever his eagle familiar was outside as he always knew where the bird was and what he was seeing as though it was his own eyes soaring through the skies. “A good day for the first of The Dedication of Lights and stuffing our faces with oil fried foods, though the lack of latkes remains a tragedy.”

Isak had only ever heard of the potato pancakes from Kazimir’s homeland far away. Asking for that recipe could wait as he slowly started to follow the old man browsing around his own shop looking for something.

“And, I believe, a good day for a bit of learning!” He pulled an old book from a shelf of similarly aged dusty tomes. “You were so eager for that book on Nightspawn! And I relented of course because you haggled in doing some chores around here for me. But you need the basics! It’s never a good idea to go calling the wolf from the forest, Izak. But if you must, study the forest itself. Or The Lost Lands in this case!”

As the book was shoved into Isak’s hands, he had many questions for the old man who was really earning his title of Krazy Kazimir, but his eyes did grow on seeing the title of “A Lost Lands Primer”. He took the book in hand, asking the old mage “I thought they came from the stars? Hence the name?”

“We know nothing about the things before they enter our world. But the parts of our world that they have made their own? That is something we can study!” There was a properly crazed look in the old man’s eyes, but his smile seemed genuine enough. “Call it an early Dedication of Lights gift!”

Isak frowned at that last word, now holding the book with care like it might bite him. The holiday was barely enough of an excuse for him in regards to such things. “I’ll be sure to repay the favor, I swear it.”

Kazimir laughed, holding his belly with his free hand. “So serious! I know you will!”

The young mage thanked the elder mage a final time and excused himself out of his shop after grabbing his spear. Upon leaving he looked to the skies, holding a flattened hand to his brow as he spied an avian form soaring above and knew it had to be Tytus. He was the only bird that Isak had seen since the surrounding wilds had gone empty, aside from chickens. And though the lad had long thought it would be incredible to have a bird familiar, he would rather die than have to face a new school with a chicken familiar. Instead he focused on making his way out to his treehouse past all the buildings of the village, giving a polite yet short greeting to villagers going about their day and making final preparations for the night’s festivities.

Though still early in the day, those scattered snowflakes were still attempting to make an appearance as Isak walked out past the amphitheater and its growing crowds out to a patch of trees where he and his father had constructed a simple treehouse that they used as something of a makeshift hunting lodge. The trees were old and tall here, and it had always reminded Isak of a forest grove from old stories of magical forests in greener parts of the world. Amado had always said that this little grove felt like a true forest despite its size, as surrounding forests had an eerie emptiness to them at the best of times.

And here in the worst of times when it seemed like every wild animal in the Wasteland was avoiding Isak, the woods here still felt like the plants themselves were more welcoming. Like they had held out against the hordes of Nightspawn turning the Wasteland into what it was today rather than whatever it had once been that even the most ancient recovered texts of civilizations long past spoke of only as an unconfirmed legend.

It even sat on a hill, as though it was unashamed of its status.

Isak approached the large old tree that held his treehouse, his shoulders slumped at the disappointing silence that defied his hopes. The tree had long lost its foliage for winter, and the boy circled around it while looking back and forth between the wooden structure and the surrounding woods. He did so several times, just to be safe, before finally ascending the ladder up into the simple structure. It bore an old lock that he unlatched, more to keep beasts out than any person who could likely enter if they truly desired. Though the main structure only had the one main room, it was large enough for him and his parents to spend the occasional night here whenever it was warmer.

Setting his spear down, he unlatched the shutters to a window to let some light in and then the latch to the ‘watchtower’ for a bit of additional light. The ‘watchtower’ was in truth just an opening out onto a branch turned ladder that led up to a small observation platform and an even higher vantage point if one was brave enough to climb to the very highest point of the tree. On one wall of the simple wooden room, now lit by wintery sunlight filtered by the surrounding woods, was Isak’s pride and joy.

Wooden boards nailed to the wall framed an arrangement of wooden rattles and boards with names written in charcoal beneath each. Only Isak and his father knew how to make sense of names such as “Split Loop” and “Third Moss Pit”. In a journal stashed in an old iron box in one corner, there was a more detailed list of directions to each, but the names were familiar enough to them that they could remember exactly where each trap was with the corresponding rattle alarm. Each of those wooden rattles had been bound to a “sibling” in a magic ritual, so that whenever a trap was activated and had caught something it would rattle on this end. In this way, the hunters could scatter them about the surrounding wilds of Inicios and know exactly which traps could be ignored aside from the occasional maintenance.

And with a deep frown and a hand through his short black hair, the boy confirmed that each of them were indeed still dead silent. Being that there was still time enough left in the day, he decided to get some reading done up in the watchtower. He climbed up to the observation platform, which true to its name was little more than some wooden boards with wooden railing for safety enough that his mother would even allow it to exist. After brushing aside some leaves, he took a seat and looked out over the railing into the forest and back down to the treehouse. In truth, it was his father’s. Or more accurately, it had belonged to his father and several other hunters who had long since met their ends in the Wasteland.

Isak started with his newest book on The Lost Lands, reading more on what his school had only ever gone over as a broad subject of places that had at one point in time or another had been completely overrun with Nightspawn to such an extent that they were changed into places that scholars still struggled to explain. They could say that a fortress that resembled no known architecture would shift around in impossible ways and be larger on the inside, but not how such a thing happened. Sure, all plants from outside The Lost Lands would not grow no matter how much repayment was given to the gods while the strange ‘native’ plants would grow in ways that made little sense, but at best there were only hotly debated theories on why this was.

Hours passed, and he studied more conventional subjects from other books as he had promised, both in preparation for magic school and for a return to his classes once the winter holiday was over. He looked up from his book, finding that there was still about an hour before it would start getting dark out and there was hardly even the slightest breeze. Which meant enough time to read a bit of fiction after so much studying was in order before heading back for the Dedication of Lights festivities. Though there wasn’t much selection in the village library, and though he had read the story more times than he could count, Isak always smiled as he read about the crazy old mage with the horse familiar convinced that windmills were not as they seemed.

The rattle from below nearly had Isak falling out of the tree as he threw the book into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and setting a foot on the ladder before realizing the rattle wasn’t rattling anymore. It had only sounded once and then stopped, and so Isak stopped on the ladder before he heard another rattle sound off and then fall silent. Which only ever happened on the occasion that something was big enough to break out of the trap.

Another rattle sounded and fell silent as Isak froze, trying to figure out what was going on.

A cacophony of bells large and small rang and rolled out over the land all the way up to Isak’s watchtower, as the boy’s blood turned to ice. That sound that every villager in Inicios had only ever been told about, and what to do when hearing it. That sound that warned that somewhere out there beyond the furthest reaches of fields of crops and orchards, something that the people of The Western Wasteland’s frontier liked to pretend was only a myth had slipped through.

And from the sound of Kazimir’s entire belltower sounding at once, it was not one mere ‘something’ but instead a lot of them.

Nightspawn had found their way to Inicios.

Isak climbed the nailed-in ladder to the top of the tree, knowing that right now everyone was probably running to the town hall. As he pulled himself higher he knew they would keep the doors open as long as they could before Kazimir started sealing the building off with as many ice walls as he could keep up. With pulse pounding in his ears he ascended and knew that they would all fight to not be another warning of the seemingly random cruelty of The Wasteland. Climbing past the last of the bits of nailed-in ladder, he scrambled to the top of the tree to try and see what was going on before he started fighting for his life.

Far off in the distance he saw the last of the villagers fleeing from the amphitheater as the small figures raced towards the town hall. He craned his neck around to scan the land, not even certain what he was looking for until he saw it. Even at this distance, all of his fears were confirmed seeing what he had only read about in books.

Their skin looked transparent, save for a prismatic coloration shifting about like on a bubble of oil lain over muscles as black as a starless night. Most members of the pack looked to be about the size of a massive bear, with a similarly shaped torso but limbs that were long and had them more accurately described as crawling along the ground rather than walking. As for the heads, they were…

Isak’s eyes found a way to shoot open wider than what he had previously thought possible with realization and familiarity.

He had read about them in the book he got from Kazimir on Nightspawn. They were mome beasts, and he even recognized the pearlescent skull of their packleader that they would all follow. Isak looked at the size of the pack, then to the amphitheater, chewing on his tongue as he estimated if they might all reasonably fit in there before deciding on his next terrible idea. The mome beasts were creeping along the barren ground faster towards the village, and it seemed as though all villagers had fled into town hall by now.

And like all Nightspawn, they would be relentless in their attacks until every person was dead. Which meant that Isak may as well go through with his plan, because he was dead either way if he was trapped outside town hall.

As he readied an illusion spell, he only hoped that this was not how he was going to be finding any range limitations of the spell he aimed at the packleader to make it hear his screams coming from the grove he was currently in. It stopped in its tracks with the rest following suit, head lowering to the ground though exact features were beyond recognition at this range. The packleader remained still, and while Isak silently celebrated finding that the range of that spell was absolutely massive he was now worrying if his bait would work. When the pack started lurching towards the grove, Isak allowed himself a cheer before casting another illusion spell to really sell the lie.

He started descending the ladder as fast as he could, knowing that fooling the Nightspawn into heading towards the grove instead of the village was only the first part of the plan that hinged on his “screams” being the first screams they heard and focusing in on that before they discovered an entire village filled with people. But he was all too happy to exploit their seemingly cruel nature as he entered the main treehouse, looking around for his spear before tossing his backpack filled with books down onto the floor. If he was going to be running for his life, he would need to travel light.

As he left his treehouse with spear in hand, he tried to not think about how any of this might be the last time he would do so, nor how a hunting spear and some starter spells were not great odds, but instead on how if he pulled this off he could at least have something good to his name to offset having a chicken as a familiar.

Isak was of a lean build, which helped to not slow him down as he raced towards the edge of the grove while adrenaline fueled him onward as he dodged through the trees. He slowed at the edge of the grove, thinking for a moment as he looked around the woods that he needed something else to hold their attention here for just long enough and not turn away towards the village. His free hand shot up to his hair, feeling the length as not nearly long enough to be in any significant amount as Nightspawn bait. He was so panicked right now that relieving himself on some tree was right out of the question.

Which had him letting out an exasperated groan shout as he nicked his hand with the tip of his spear to draw enough blood to hold the attention of the Nightspawn here just long enough. He squeezed his hand as a few red drops hit the soil and frowned, knowing that one tiny splash of blood in one spot wouldn’t be enough.

However…

He cast a storm spell from his bleeding hand to create the least impressive rain of blood in all of history both recorded and unrecorded. That the magic water wouldn’t last for long was to his benefit to not dilute the scent too much but still aid in making a rough circle that would hold the attention of nightmare monsters far better than one small spot. Isak tore off a bit of his woolen cloak to wrap tightly around his hand as he retrieved his spear, took a deep breath, and started racing down the hill just as he heard the far off sound of trees being felled to the tune of some otherworldly howl.

The slope of the hill worked to Isak’s favor even as the coarse dirt and rocks kept threatening to trip him up as he made promises to his legs to never run again if they kept him going only a little bit longer. And they knew he was a liar even then, such that he started to slow down as he finally approached the amphitheater, pausing on the cliff overlooking the converted natural basin as he looked back to the grove. Another tree fell as he jogged down into the amphitheater, hoping that they would be distracted by the blood he spilt even for a short while as he winced at the cut on his hand.

All the preparations had been set for the celebrations to begin tonight, and even The Harvestman’s Revelry was ready to go just lurking in the background to avoid having to do twice as much work. Isak had spent little time actually helping to prepare for the celebrations, instead being out on a ‘hunting’ trip to figure out why all wild animals had vanished from the surrounding area. Isak’s eyes darted around the quickly abandoned scene as he looked for the fuel for this entire plan being anything more than a temporary distraction. He had at least found out why the wilds had been so empty, he thought to himself just as he found the barrels all neatly arranged.

Sure it was far too late and now Nightspawn were now howling for more of his blood and not far away enough, but as he used his spear to stab open a hole in the barrels he thought to himself with a shrug that it still counted as having figured it out. Barrels of wine, beer, hard liquor, and olive oil started gushing out their contents onto the smooth stone ground before he kicked them away to try and spread out the flammable liquids more evenly even as most of them collected at the center due to the gentle sloping letting gravity collect them.

Not quite satisfied he dragged the leaking barrels around the stone basin as he heard the howling growing closer. This had been a good year for Inicios, and olive oil production had been at an all time high while several villagers had seen good enough yields to put forward this many barrels of alcohol for a shared village festival.

And now Isak was going to incinerate all of that good will.

All for a good cause, of course. Nightspawn were weak to certain elemental damage types even as they resisted more physical damage. An ice spear piercing their flesh may slow them, but a blast of icy frost would disrupt their very flesh. Falling rocks may batter and slow them, but a lightning bolt would flash fry them.

And fire? The few things in this world that could shrug off fire tended to be made of the stuff, and burning did wonders to stop Nightspawn from healing.

He was gasping for breath as he looked down at his still bleeding hand, beckoning the mome beasts to him much too fast for comfort. Isak pulled off his cloak, dousing it in a still oozing barrel of liquor as he started to tear it into a long strip while running to the opposite end of the amphitheater. One end of the length was thrown into a pool of flammable liquid as he hid behind one of the stones placed at the edge of the basin for decoration. His teeth grit as the packleader’s head peeked out from the top of the ridge.

Like every other beast in the pack it had the same transparent skin constantly shifting in prismatic fashion like an oil bubble as shifting pitch black muscles just beneath clear flesh stretched and strained as they leapt down from the ridge and into the amphitheater. Long limbs and pearlescent claws that could tear a man to shreds with ease carried them towards the scent of fresh blood. While each of them had a head like a cross between a wolf and a wild hog, the packleader had an outer skull-like casing around its head in the same pearlescent color as its claws and tusks.

They crashed and plowed through tables, tents, and stalls as Isak waited for them to reach the center before he cast his storm spell to light the end of the soaked cloak with a spark. Flames raced onward as he ducked away, and the last he saw of their eyes was an animalistic shock at the fire that soon engulfed all of them along with everything else in the amphitheater. Howls and shrieks rang out as they flailed about in the fire.

Isak fell over onto his side as he admired his handiwork, and started to laugh. The roaring fire making up for the loss of his woolen cloak even as he laid in the cold dirt and rocks poking into his side. Somewhere in the back of his head, he worried that everyone would be furious at him for burning down no less than what amounted to three village religious festivals, a public works project, and an overall symbol of unity.

Perhaps the gods would forgive him.

And perhaps they wouldn’t, as the pearlescent skull of the pack leader arose from the flames and began shambling towards Isak as he scrambled backwards on his hands and feet. He grabbed at his hunting spear as the beast lurched forward, now unburdened by the translucent and prismatic skin as pitch black strands of muscle and sinew burning only slowed the lead mome beast down to a crawl while the rest of its pack incinerated behind it.

Its maw opened, revealing countless curved teeth big enough to pierce clean through any person’s skull. The sound it let out was not the unearthly howl that had been chasing after Isak for what seemed like hours, but his own scream repeated back to him as he had made the creature hear with his illusion.

As Isak’s mouth opened to let out one final scream before being torn to shreds, a javelin pierced its eye to make it rear back. Another hit it in the shoulder before Captain Zolin led a charge of the village guards all stabbing their axespears into the beast as it thrashed about.

Amado’s arms were around Isak while he was still in shock, dragging him back to safety and dropping a bundle of javelins as the guards struggled to keep the beast pinned back and in the flames.

“Everyone get down!” Kazimir shouted as best his old voice could handle. “I really don’t want to miss!”

Father and son and all the guards fell to the ground. The mome beast seized on the freedom and lurched forward with how right as a massive lightning bolt hit it in the mouth, vaporizing all flesh and leaving a half destroyed skull as the mome beast’s body hit the ground with a hard thud.

The wide eyed minotaur carrying Kazimir set him down on his feet as the old mage gave a cheer. “I still got it!”

“ISAK!” Amado shouted as soon as he had picked the both of them up, setting his still dazed son down. “What. Happened?!?”

“Uh…”

“Tytus saw the whole thing while leading us here!” Kazimir exclaimed as he hobbled over, clearly having had enough excitement for one day. “Your boy led them right into a trap and burned them all to a crisp! Minus the biggest and nastiest one, sure, but you saw how things went for us working against him alone after your son deep fried him! Maybe leave him to cook a bit longer next time, Isak?”

“Uh, okay…”

Isak didn’t even remember his father being angry at him, just relieved he was alright followed shortly by pride in his son for having saved everyone. Followed shortly by Ezter finally catching up to them and pulling them both into a tearful hug while the village guards ensured all was well and assessed the situation.

The fire raged on as the villagers gathered, and the young mage apologized for burning everything as they all insisted to one degree or another that they would take a village-wide setback as opposed to most if not all of the villagers being hunted down by horrors from the stars. Captain Zolin and the village minister decided that the fire was well enough contained in the basin to let it burn itself out in a day or so rather than put in any effort into extinguishing it. And given the holiday, it was more than a bit festive.

By the eighth day when the fires finally did die out many of the Lavi-Wastelanders, and even a few others who had seen some fairly compelling evidence, didn’t quite know what to make of the young mage. While this holiday was meant to commemorate the sacred oil in the lanterns hung in the highest point of The Hallowed Tower proving that the gods’ light had not been extinguished and a people endured, it was hitting a bit close to home for all involved.

Isak insisted that all the remains of the mome beasts be sold off to repay the villagers for everything they lost, despite their protests that such a gesture was unnecessary. But he was his mother’s son, and he insisted until they agreed and instead took the opportunity of The Harvestman’s Revelry, already well underway though with less of a feast than previously planned, to provide the young mage with some small gifts that he might find useful as he would be going off to magic school soon.

Kazimir’s attempts at repaying Isak were of course met with rejections and an insistence that dealing with the mome beasts was somehow repayment for the book on The Lost Lands.

At least until Isak’s mother returned from shopping one day to happily announce that, as a favor and because the boy would not accept it as a gift, Kazimir had sold her what he swore to be the most unique familiar that The Empire would ever see.

Isak would always remember that silent prayer that it not be a chicken.