PROLOGUE 1
"There exists no such depravity as the depravity of the cold, failed GOD, that swiftly lost its interest in its own creation."
—-Quote by Yakub "Paracelsus" Magnus, Epialchemist of the Sanctua Anomalia.
The howl of wind and storm was deafening outside the large and spacious inn. From within, patrons and workers delighted in the warmth of the eatery, their firewood sure to not run out, as folks took turns grabbing sticks and small logs, and casting them into various fireplaces located in the cozy shelter.
Food came and went, and drinks flowed, just another tiring day of working for the common man, and an evening spent full of amusement and relaxation. Though it was known that changes would come with the arrival of the colder months, as evidenced by the sharp, freezing winds outside.
The first strange thing to occur that evening, however, was the distant sounds of a galloping horse.
Surely, nobody could've stolen a horse from the stables, at this rate, it'd be impossible to open the locks on the stalls, they've been frozen to oblivion!
That would have meant the horse was likely coming from outside their little town. A passerby on a horse? They do not mind. So long as no trouble is caused, and they leave soon… These villagers do not take kindly to outsiders.
The galloping became louder as the horse came closer. The people could not ignore it any longer, the chatting of the villagers slowly became silent as some tried to listen to the sound, hoping it would start decreasing in intensity soon.
Then, at the peak of its intensity, closest to the in, the galloping stopped, the neigh of a mighty horse was heard, as well as the sound of strong, large hooves hitting against rock. Beyond that, nothing could be heard besides for the howl of the wind. Everyone knew what was to come, the silence in the inn took over.
And then, the doors opened, and a figure entered into the building. It could be described as tall, and properly clad for a vagabond. Prepared, ready for a trek, dressed for the cold seasons. The face was covered in a thick scarf, and a large, soft headdress. But something about the way they moved seemed odd, as though they had an injury, they appeared a bit… Misshapen, as well. The figure reached for their scarf, pulling it ahead of their face, but not in a way that would reveal their facial features.
"As per order of the honorable house Wulfgar, the ninth son of the Lord Godfrey, namely, Silas Wulfgar, has been deemed guilty of treachery of the Wulfgar name and their values, and has been effectively exiled and sentenced to death. Staying true to tradition, the family has set Silas free in order to hunt him down and execute in ritual. However, Silas, according to the trusted Crows of the family, has also been accused of utilising arts forbidden in the hunt in order to gain an advantage and gain a chance at successful escape…
Therefore, the honorable house Wulfgar has issued both a warning and a capture warrant. If you do not possess the means to subdue the target, it is advised you stay inside and dim the lights. Those foolish enough to dare and wager an attempt at capturing the target, are welcome to try, but injuries, collateral damages and deaths will not be compensated for by the house Wulfgar. A large prize awaits whoever captures the target however. Large enough to afford any-"
Despite the strong and charismatic voice of the stranger being a pleasure to listen to, one of the villagers chose to interject. There he stood, his voice louder, more abbrassive. A mercenary hired by the village to protect from the occasional, stronger enemy… His name was Alexander, slightly darker in skin tone than the rest of the blank villagers, toned by hard farm work. Dressed more fancily than the rest, in a thick, long, brown wooly coat.
"And does the 'honorable' house Wulfgar have any way of explaining how strong this threat is?"
He said honorable in an exaggerated manner, clearly mocking the emissary. Everyone in this room knew of the Wulfgar nobility, and they disliked them greatly. They've presented them with difficulty after difficulty for years now.
The emissary replied, seemingly unbothered by the interjection.
"The target is said to have passed the military training of the Wulfgar armies, but nothing beyond that. The Crows have stated that the dirty tricks employed by the target, however, have turned him into a threat comparable to a ravenous pack of dire wolves…"
Alexander's face brightened with a warm, large smile. And with this, some chuckles in the room arose. A pack of dire wolves? Seriously?
"A pack of wolves? Surely, you don't think this threat is one I cannot take care of by myself, a core user, one of fire."
There was a second of silence where the emissary said nothing. A core user wasn't uncommon, but this was unexpected. These were common humans commissioning a core user. Usually, the common man saw magic as something sinister, a thing of shamans, charlatans, tricksters. But these seemed rather progressive, apparently. Before he could say something again, Alexander swung his hand, a flash of fire cutting through the air, extinguishing right in front of the emissary, burning his scarf slightly, and his fingers too, seeing as he was pulling on his scarf in order to speak more freely. The inn roared in laughter, before finally calming down again.
The emissary spoke again.
"Very well. It is of good news to know this town is in good hands. I will leave you people to enjoy your evening now. I will hammer some posters of the criminal to the townpost outside, and I will be quick to leave. Farewell."
The emissary bothered not to wave as he left, having received more than enough angry glances to know he was overstaying his welcome. Once the door closed, the villagers exploded right back into joy and conversation, this time, Alexander's name rung through the inn as they treated him like the hero he was. The sound of hammering could be heard outside as the emissary hammered the poster into the townpost.
The evening continued into the night,hours passing, and drunken patrons with full bellies who danced and laughed soon began to leave the inn. After the last patron left the establishment, Alexander waved goodbye to the bartender and the other workers, getting ready to defend the town. It was dark, but with the flicks of his finger, he sent small fires that danced throught air and crawled into extinguished sticks that carried fire to illuminate the town slightly. Torches.
Alexander then heard a neigh.
He looked behind him. There it was, a horse, right by the inn. It must've been the emissary's horse. How come he still hasn't left with it, and how come nobody mentioned this? Were the leaving patrons too drunk to notice?
No matter, the emissary would leave with the horse soon. Only a matter of time.
Alexander left the horse, he took off his hat, roughing his short, thick, wavy hair up a bit before putting his hat back on. It was a sort of black cap.
He put his hands into his pockets, and began to patrol the streets. He'd walk past the townpost once he'd cross a corner, where he would see the face of the criminal he'd have to look out for, so he knew to take some time to look at the picture.
As he got closer and closer to the corner, a sort of iron smell lingered under his nose. Odd.
A few steps away from the corner, he saw what the origin of the smell was. Crimson stained the snow, and the smell became stronger and unmistakeable. The unforgettable stench of blood. He saw there, on the ground, a hammer, and some nails, and a slightly charred scarf. The emissary's, certainly.
"What the…?"
He rushed to the townpost, stepping onto the scarf, hands slamming against the post, looking for the poster.
There it was. Silas Wulfgar.
Betrayer.
The picture was expertly hand drawn, and highly disturbing.
It showed something in between man and beast. Leaning more on beast.
Teeth with no apparent purpose, white, cruel eyes, and a body so disfigured and gaunt, but obviously incomplete.
He knew that this appearance must be incomplete, for whatever dirty trick this Silas used to become a stronger beast had not yet passed fully. Alexander couldn't waste any time, he had to see if there was a trail of blood, something!
He began running past the townpost, in the direction he thought the beast ran.
And then he heard loud, distressed noises of a horse, way behind him.
He froze, he had to get back. Now.
He spun around as fast he could, running back to the inn, the cries and wails of the horse becoming worse and more pathetic by the second. Turning the corner, he saw it being dragged away, and he ran after it. The horse stopped producing sound before he could reach into that alley.
Blood was everywhere. In that darkness, he heard the ripping of flesh and tendons.
He had no shadow of doubt. This was the criminal. The beast.
He bothered not to look into the alleyway, he simply reached both hands out, and let hell loose.
Fire engulfed everything in that alley. Things shrieked and struggled and screamed, the screams soon turned hoarse as the voicebox of whatever it was in there burnt up. When Alexander stopped, only bones remained. He examinated them, of course. To the right laid the bones of the horse, and to the left, the bones of a large wolf. Looks like this Silas guy had undergone that transformation fully, indifferent from a strangely large wolf.
"Gonna need to take these bones out of here, I cannot leave these here."
But as he bent down to collect these bones, he would feel a hand land on his back. It felt normal, human, warm, gentle. For some reason, Alexander felt… Comfortable. He didn't feel like turning around to face the person resting their hand on his back. He didn't even jump at the sudden appearance of a hand on his back. A voice came behind him, the owner of that hand. It sounded gentle, soft-spoken, kind.
"Is this that Silas fellow I saw on the poster?"
"Yes, indeed it is. Worry not, he has been neutralized!"
"Hmmm, aren't those just wolven bones?"
The person now came down, sitting on their knees, looking at the bones as well. They wore long coats, and were dressed rather fancily. Long, black, wavy hair flowed from their head, and their skin was fair, pale, beautiful. Their face was something difficult to describe, it bore features you wouldn't typically see on one face, and yet here they were, balanced on a pale, sharp face, coming together nicely.
"Don't mind the calmness you feel, that would be a byproduct of my core, you know what that is, right?"
Alexander found himself able to turn his head again, but stared in wonder at the face beside him. He snapped out of it though.
"Yes… Yes I do know what a core is.. I… Have one…"
"Ahh, splendid. Now, look at the bones. Are you sure there isn't place for doubt?"
The person got up, removing their hand from Alexander's back.
"Yes… I suppose so… So this Silas person may still be around?"
"Indeed. That's why you should always look out for imposters. Things or people that aren't what they seem at first glance…"
Alexander nodded at this small wisdom. Finally getting up, and prioritising locating the target over getting rid of these bones.
Alexander then walked past the stranger, and the stranger followed after Alexander, and threw an arm over his shoulder, getting far too close in for comfort.
The arm felt strange, it was shifting, hot, changing…
"What's your name, stranger?"
He felt he was avoiding the stranger's face for some strange reason? Surely, he didn't feel embarassment from being enamored…
The arm now felt heavier, sharper. Looking down, Alexander saw it had gotten larger, hairier, it had grown sharp talons for fingers.
The stranger's reply came out hoarse, heavy, gutteral and breathy, almost as though they couldn't close their mouth, as it was full of something. Their face got closer to Alexander's, but now…
"My name, is Silas.."
…only teeth brushed against his face.