The journey to Veer's village had been tense. The small black furball monster thrashed violently in the makeshift sling Veer had fashioned, crimson eyes blazing with primal fury. Twice Veer had been forced to stop and subdue the creature with his Urza-infused touch when its struggles threatened to break free.
The furry creature wriggels like a bug to loosen his grip.
"Peace, little one," Veer had whispered each time, his palm glowing with gentle amber light. "You are safe now."
As they crested the final hill, the fortified wooden walls of Agnidwar—AVillage came into view. Perhaps sixty dwellings arranged in concentric circles around a central plaza where a massive stone hearth contained flames that never dimmed.
At the gates, the guards tensed visibly at the sight of the small creature.
"What manner of beast have you brought, Veer?" asked Thorn, captain of the watch, hand instinctively moving to his sword.
"Not a beast," Veer replied firmly, placing a protective hand over the furball. "A survivor."
"Looks like a demon spawn to me," muttered the second guard, making a warding sign across his chest.
Veer's eyes flashed. "Judge not what you do not understand, Flint. Now open the gates—I must speak with Baba."
" Ah...! Yeah-Yeah sure..! But why is its mouth tied?!" Flint yawned a bit.
---
The village elder, known to all simply as Baba, examined the furious little creature with ancient, knowing eyes. The council house fell silent as he slowly extended one gnarled finger toward the crimson eyes that glared with such intensity.
"I name thee Kaal," the elder pronounced, unblinking despite the threatening glare that emanated from the small black form. "Death and Time, for that is what I see in your eyes—the end of one existence and the beginning of another."
"Yeah.." veer shook his head in affirmation. "That's wonderful name."
Baba petted now Kaal's fur with warm and smooth hands "But why is his mouth tied?!" He pointed on the same thing too.
Veer gave a nervous smile while rubbing his head and said nothing
Kaal—the newly named creature—responded with a surge of dark energy that knocked over a nearby water pitcher. The ceramic shattered with a sharp *crack*, water splashing across the wooden floor. Several council members jumped back in alarm.
"By the Flame!" gasped a woman with a silver pendant. "Did you see that?"
"This thing is dangerous!" protested Hawk, the village's master hunter. His lean face contorted in disgust. "It should be—"
"Under my protection," Veer interjected firmly, stepping between Hawk and the creature. "By right of discovery and by my authority as Guardian of the Eternal Flame."
Baba nodded slowly. "So it shall be. But you bear responsibility for its actions, young Veer." He reminded —while he slowely unties the poor creature.
"Are you mad?" hissed Hawk. "That *thing* could kill us in our sleep!"
The furball creature—Kaal—seemed to understand the accusation. He locked eyes with Hawk and let out a sound that was almost a laugh, low and unnerving. "If I wanted you dead, human, you wouldn't wake to find yourself so."
The room fell absolutely silent, shock written on every face.
"It speaks," whispered Baba, wonder replacing caution in his eyes.
Veer rubbing off his hairs with a nervous smile standing in a corner.
---
*Four Years Later*
"Control your breathing," Veer instructed, now a young man of seventeen rather than the boy who had discovered Kaal. "The Urza flows through your channels like water through a stream bed. Direct it, don't force it."
Kaal, still in his small black furry form, focused intently on the fallen maple leaf before him. Beads of sweat formed beneath his fur as he concentrated, feeling the Urza currents that invisibly flowed around him. He reached for them, trying to channel just enough power—not too much, not too little.
The leaf shuddered, then rose two inches into the air. Kaal's eyes narrowed to crimson slits, his entire body rigid with concentration.
"Good," whispered Veer. "Now, transform the energy. Remember the pattern I showed you."
Kaal attempted to shift the energy from physical manipulation to elemental transformation—a delicate conversion that required precise control. He visualized the pattern, tried to weave the Urza threads exactly as Veer had demonstrated.
Something within him lurched—a wild current of power suddenly breaking free from his careful control. The leaf didn't just catch fire; it exploded with a concussive *bang* that sent both of them tumbling backward. Dark flames leapt from the explosion, seeking like hungry serpents. One tendril caught a young sapling, which instantly blackened and withered.
Veer recovered instantly, slamming his palm to the earth. Golden light bloomed beneath his fingers, racing outward in a circular pattern that contained and then smothered the dark flames.
"Better," Veer said with a slight smile, brushing ash from his tunic. "But control remains your challenge."
Kaal huffed in frustration, a small plume of shadow escaping his mouth. "Four years, and still I cannot fully master this form's energy. It's like trying to direct a river with a twig."
"Four years is nothing," Veer replied, retrieving his bow from where it leaned against a young oak. "Some spend lifetimes mastering a single Urza channel."
"Ihad mastery before," Kaal grumbled, his voice tinged with a bitterness he couldn't entirely hide.
"Befor...!!"
Their conversation was interrupted by the village bell—three sharp rings signaling the afternoon gathering.
"The Harvest Festival preparations begin today,"Veer said, slinging his bow across his back. "Come, we shouldn't be late."
Kaal sighed dramatically. "Yes, let's hurry so I can hide under a bench while everyone pretends not to notice the monster in their midst."
---
Agnidwar hummed with activity as villagers assembled in the central plaza. The Eternal Flame burned bright in its stone hearth, tended carefully by Mira, a bright-eyed girl of ten who had recently been chosen as flame keeper apprentice.
According to village lore, the flame had burned continuously for seven generations, brought from the divine mountains by the first Guardian. It was said that as long as the flame burned, Agnidwar would never fall to darkness.
Kaal positioned himself discretely beneath one of the wooden benches. Despite four years in the village, many still regarded him with unease. Children no longer screamed at his appearance, but mothers watched carefully when he was near. Men often made subtle warding gestures when they thought he wasn't looking.
Baba rose to address the gathered villagers, his voice surprisingly strong despite his advanced years. "The Flame-Blessed Harvest comes again," he announced, arms raised toward the cloudless sky. "Every five years, as tradition demands, we open our gates to our forest neighbors to celebrate the bounty of our lands."
As the elder assigned tasks, Kaal observed the villagers whose actions shaped the community his freind Mira, the flame keeper apprentice, barely ten but already showing rare affinity for fire-based Urza manipulation. Her copper-colored hair was always in disarray, matching her boundless energy and curiosity.
Kaal had interacted with everyone over the years, some more successfully than others. Hawk remained openly hostile, while Mira treated him with fearless curiosity. Willow had occasionally used his help in gathering certain herbs that grew in dark places. The others maintained a polite distance, acknowledging his presence without truly accepting it.
---
As the meeting concluded and villagers dispersed to their assigned tasks, Kaal felt a familiar prickling sensation along his spine—someone was watching him. He turned to find Zuri, a mischievous young goblin from the Treejumper tribe, perched improbably on a nearby roof beam.
"Death-ball not at boring meeting?" Zuri called down, using the nickname the goblins had given Kaal. His voice was high and musical, with the characteristic goblin accent that emphasized wrong syllables. "Zuri thought you important now!"
Kaal growled softly. The Treejumper goblin had appointed himself Kaal's personal tormentor two years ago during the last inter-village trading day. Their relationship had evolved into an odd combination of rivalry and reluctant friendship.
"I was observing," Kaal replied tersely. "Why are you inside our walls again?The festival hasn't started."
Zuri performed an elaborate somersault, landing silently beside Kaal with a soft *thump*. His green-brown skin allowed him to blend with the wooden structures, and his oversized pointed ears twitched constantly, catching sounds beyond human hearing.
"Zuri comes with message," the goblin said, suddenly serious. "Elder Mokk says strange tracks found near Deepmire. Not orc. Not human. Not goblin or dwarf or elf." He made a circular motion around his eyes. "Red marks on trees. Dead animals with no blood."
Kaal's fur bristled. "Did you tell anyone else?"
Zuri shook his head, his long ears flapping comically. "Mokk says tell flame guardians only. Bad omen before festival."
"I'll inform Veer," Kaal promised. "Now go, before the guards find you."
With a mock salute, Zuri scampered up the nearest wall and disappeared over the rooftops, leaving Kaal unsettled by the news.
---
The week before the festival transformed Agnidwar. Hunters returned with abundant game, cooking fires burned constantly as women prepared preserved meats and festive breads, and men constructed temporary shelters outside the walls for visiting traders and dignitaries.
Yet amid the bustling preparations, disturbing reports began to filter in:
A hunter returned from the eastern forest, his face ashen. "The trees," he whispered to Hawk, not knowing Kaal was hidden nearby. "They whispered back to me."
"It's just the wind," Hawk dismissed.
"No," the hunter insisted, swallowing hard. "I heard my own voice. But I wasn't the one speaking."
Two days later, a shepherd girl reported finding three of her flock dead at the forest's edge. "No wounds," she told Willow the healer. "But they were... empty. Like something drank their life away."
That evening, Kaal found Veer examining the animals' remains outside the village. The bodies were unmarked, but when Veer passed his Urza-sensitive hand over them, fine tendrils of shadow briefly materialized then dissipated.
"What could do this?" Kaal asked.
Veer's expression was grim. "Nothing that should exist in our world."
---
"Kaal! I need your help!" called Mira one afternoon, her freckled face appearing upside-down from the roof of the storehouse. "I dropped my lucky stone down the gap between the walls, and my arm's too big to reach it!"
Kaal, who had been observing the construction of a trading stall, looked up at the girl. Unlike most children, Mira had never shown fear of him—only fascination and occasionally annoying levels of curiosity.
"Can't you just find another stone?" he asked, but was already moving toward her.
Mira's eyes widened in horror. "It's not just any stone! It's got the flame pattern inside! Baba says it means I was chosen by the fire spirits!"
The gap was indeed narrow—barely four inches wide where the storehouse wall met the adjoining structure. Kaal squeezed into the gap, his eyes adjusted instantly, the world transforming into shades of red and black. He spotted the stone—a small piece of amber with a natural formation inside that indeed resembled a flame.
"Got it," he called, backing out of the narrow space with the stone held carefully in his mouth.
Mira's face lit up with pure joy as he deposited the stone in her palm. "Thank you, Kaal! You're the best monster ever!"
Before he could react, she scooped him up in a tight hug. "Put me down this instant!" he demanded, his voice muffled by fur pressed against her shoulder.
From nearby, he heard a snort of laughter. Hawk the hunter leaned against a post, watching the exchange with obvious amusement.
"Tamed by a child," he commented. "Perhaps you're not so fearsome after all."
Kaal bristled. "I merely helped her retrieve something important."
"Of course," Hawk replied, his tone softening slightly. "The girl has a way of getting what she wants." He paused, then added unexpectedly, "She lost her parents to the fever last winter. The stone was her mother's."
Before Kaal could respond, Hawk pushed off from the post and walked away, leaving the furball monster to ponder this new information.
---
On the third evening of preparations, Kaal returned to Veer's modest home near the Eternal Flame's hearth to find a small bowl of fresh cream and honey placed at the doorstep—an offering with no note or explanation. The sweet scent rose in the cool evening air, mingling with the smoke from nearby cooking fires.
It had become a regular occurrence over the past year, appearing randomly but always when Kaal had experienced particular difficulty or frustration during the day. He still didn't know who left these gifts, but had caught glimpses of a feminine form slipping away once or twice.
As he lapped at the sweet offering, he heard the soft strumming of a lute from a nearby dwelling. For a moment, Kaal closed his eyes, allowing himself to be transported by the music to a place where he wasn't a monster, where he was simply alive and at peace.
---
"The Arcane Academy would allow me to fully realize my potential as Guardian," Veer said as they shared a simple dinner of venison stew. "Their libraries contain knowledge lost to the world for centuries."
Kaal watched his friend and protector carefully. Though only seventeen, Veer carried responsibilities that would crush most men twice his age.
"You wish to leave," Kaal stated, not asking. He tried to keep his voice neutral, but a hint of abandonment crept in despite his efforts.
Veer sighed, setting down his wooden spoon. "Not forever. But yes, after the festival, I intend to seek admission. The Academy accepts new students only once every three years—if I missthis cycle, I must wait."
"They will not admit me alongside you," Kaal said quietly, staring into the hearth fire.
Veer was silent for a long moment. "No," he finally admitted. "The Academy is... traditional in its views of what constitutes a worthy student."
"What would become of me?" The question emerged more vulnerable than Kaal had intended. He quickly added, "Not that I require your protection anymore."
"I had hoped you might continue here, protected by my status even in my absence," Veer said. "The village has come to accept you, after a fashion."
"Tolerate," Kaal corrected. "Not accept."
Veer didn't argue the point. "You're not wrong hehehe."
"When would you return?" Kaal asked finally.
"The basic instruction requires six years," Veer replied.
Six years. In his previous life, Deva Ram Dharma had spent decades away from home on military campaigns. But in this new existence, Six years seemed an eternity.
"I will consider what path I must take," Kaal said finally. "But know this—if you go, I will find a way to ensure your safety. I do not trust this Academy and its... traditions."
Veer smiled, a genuine expression that lit his entire face. "I would expect nothing less from you, old friend. But alas.. monster's are not allowed there."
---
As the festival approached, representatives from neighboring settlements began arriving. Kaal observed them from safe vantage points, studying each with intense curiosity.
From the east came the Silverleaf elves, their delegation numbering only five. Their leader, Lyraniel, moved with fluid grace that belied her apparent age. Her silver-white hair caught the sunlight like polished metal, contrasting with eyes green as spring leaves.
From the north arrived the Grey Orcs of Stormclaw Fortress, their approach marked by the rhythmic pounding of war drums. Their leader, Thokk Bonecrusher, stood nearly seven feet tall and wore an impressive headdress made from a bear's skull.
The Green Orcs of Tuskwood followed a day later. Less warlike than their grey cousins, they excelled at brewing potent medicines and poisons from forest plants. Their chieftain, a female named Mora, arrived wearing a cloak of vibrant feathers.
The four goblin tribes arrived in their characteristic chaos—the Treejumpers appearing without warning by leaping from tree branches, the Bogfoot swamp goblins trudging in from the southern marshes, the Deepdelver mining goblins emerging via a temporary tunnel, and the Mossback forest goblins walking openly through the main gates.
Lastly came the Ironbeard dwarves from their mountain hall of Khazak-Dûm. Their leader, Master Smith Durin Steelheart, wore a beard adorned with precious metals formed into symbols of his clan's achievements.
With representatives from all neighboring settlements now present, tension in Agnidwar increased noticeably. Old tribal rivalries simmered beneath the surface of forced politeness.
"Always the same," grumbled Hawk as he and several other village leaders gathered in the council house the night before the festival officially began. "Every five years we invite chaos to our doorstep and call it tradition."
"The festival brings prosperity," Mercer countered, his fingers absently counting coins in a small pouch at his belt. "One good trading day during the festival equals a month of normal commerce."
"And strengthens necessary alliances," added Veer. "We cannot survive in isolation."
Kaal, hidden in the shadows of the ceiling beams, observed the debate with interest. His thoughts were interrupted when the Eternal Flame—always burning steadily in its central hearth—suddenly flickered and dimmed. For three heartbeats, the flame contracted to barely more than an ember before flaring back to life with a soft *whoosh*.
Only Veer and Mira seemed to notice, exchanging concerned glances.
Later that night, Kaal confronted Veer about the incident as they stood on the small balcony outside Veer's sleeping quarters.
"The flame has never wavered in my lifetime," Veer admitted, his expression troubled. "Not even during the great storm five winters ago when the village nearly flooded."
"An omen?" Kaal asked, his crimson eyes reflecting the distant light of the Eternal Flame.
"Perhaps." Veer stared into the night sky. "Or a warning."
A wolf howled in the distant forest, its mournful cry echoing across the valley. Another answered, then another, creating an eerie chorus that raised the fur along Kaal's spine.
"Something approaches," Kaal said softly. "Something that doesn't belong."
---
The next morning dawned clear and bright, perfect weather for the festival's opening ceremonies. Villagers donned their finest clothes, many wearing special symbols to honor the Eternal Flame—red and gold ribbons, flame-shaped jewelry, or embroidered patterns on their garments.
Baba performed the traditional blessing, dipping a ceremonial torch into the Eternal Flame and then touching it to smaller braziers carried by each delegation's leader. The flame caught and spread, creating a circle of fire that united all present.
"May the light of understanding illuminate our differences," Baba intoned. "May the warmth of friendship melt old grievances. May the Eternal Flame forge bonds stronger than iron."
The gathered crowd repeated the final line in unison: "May the Eternal Flame forge bonds stronger than iron."
With the ceremony complete, the festivities began in earnest. Music filled the air as villagers and visitors mingled, sharing food, drink, and tales. Children darted between stalls, wide-eyed at exotic goods from distant settlements. The atmosphere was jubilant, generations of tradition momentarily overcoming ancient rivalries.
Yet as twilight approached, Kaal felt increasingly uneasy. The Eternal Flame, while still burning, seemed somehow diminished—its golden glow less vibrant, its warmth less penetrating. He noticed Mira frowning as she tended it, adding extra resin yet achieving less effect.
Scanning the festival grounds, Kaal noticed something else disturbing. Several revelers—a mix of humans and visitors—moved with subtle wrongness. Their movements were too fluid or too jerky, their expressions slightly delayed, their eyes unfocused.
Kaal slipped away from the crowds, circling toward the eastern perimeter where the forest pressed closest to the village. The sounds of celebration faded behind him as he entered the shadow of the trees.
He froze.
At the edge of the tree line stood a figure. Humanoid in shape, but wrong in every detail. Its body seemed to flicker in and out of existence, like smoke caught in contrary winds. Where its eyes should be were only empty voids, darker than the deepest night. It did not stand on the ground so much as hover slightly above it, as if the earth itself rejected its presence.
The figure seemed to sense Kaal's attention. It turned—not with the movement of flesh and bone, but with the unnatural shifting of shadow. For one terrible moment, it focused on him, and Kaal felt a cold more profound than winter's deepest chill.
Then it was gone, not retreating but simply ceasing to be visible.
Kaal raced toward it, his heart pounding. Whatever darkness had been lurking there has instantly dissolved in the darkness of night.
Was that his imagination or was there really something that is lurking under the lights of the celebration.
Kaal stood there. Beating himself out.