Prologue; An Edge of Darkness

"Father, father I found it!" The boy sang in joy as he continued digging his sword through the dirt. "Well d-" Gerdrick paused for a moment, staring into the distance, his face bore wide, empty open eyes. A gentle wind whispered through the trees. His long sable coat fluttered in the wind, almost akin to something bearing a soul. 

"There's something wrong here." The young Thorley gave him a befuddled look. "Is there?"

"Can't you sense it?" Gerdrick said. "Listen to it, the darkness." Berard could feel it. Years on the battlefield, years spent in hiding. And he had never been so afraid. What was it? 

"The wind. The voice of the trees. Our steeds, bellowing a mile from here. Which sound is it that unnerves you so, m'Lord?" Blun asked. 

Berard firmly grabbed the hilt of his blade, slowly drawing a gorgeous longsword from its sheath. Various stones shone bright in its hilt and the torchlight gracefully ran across the sharp, shining edges of its blade. It was a beautiful weapon, unlike anything the young Thorley had ever seen. Not even Lord Ravendal's luxuriously crafted weapon could challenge that of Berard's possession. It was a splendid weapon, that was certainly true. It looked new-made, Thorley thought. He doubted if it had ever been swung in anger, if swung at all. 

"By the gods Gerdrick, tell us what's wrong!" Berard shouted, his voice shivering slightly as he did. "We need a fire. I'll see to it." Blun spoke. 

"How big a fool are you, outcast? If there are enemies near, a fire would be the last thing we'd want." Berard said as a drop of sweat ran down from his brow to his chin.

"There are plenty of enemies a fire could scare off," Blun said. "Bears and direwolves and… and other things…" 

The stubbles on Gerdrick's chin twitched. "No fire." He threw the hood of his cloak over his face, masking the shock that had taken residency in his eyes. "We head in. Now." Lord Ravendal reaches at his waist, drawing his blade. "It'd be foolish to run in without a plan and with our camp half a mile from here, m'Lord." Blun said. "Above that, our heads will be on the line if we head in there on direct midnight." Berard pointed out. "We have no choice. Koborn troops are coming, I feel it." Gerdrick sighed. "If they're in fact coming for us we stand no chance. It's too late to turn back now, we're heading in." 

Berard took a step forward, grabbing the grave with two hands and shoving it to the side. The smell of corpses and excrements overwhelmed Berard as he looked down a deep, deep pit. A ladder made out of iron was stuck to the side of the pit, yet the rough edges and faded coloring unnerved Berard. 

"Ladies first." The bulky man waved his arm through the air, signaling for Thorley to climb down. The boy looked down the hole, then at Berard, then his father. 

Blun could notice the fear in the boy's eyes, his pupils had shrunk to two little grains of sand. Blun felt a certain unease as he saw the moonlight bounced off the young boy's eyes. It was as if Blun felt his fear. As if he was the boy. 

"Do I really have to go fi-" Lord Ravendal interrupted the boy. "Climb." Gerdrick said as he sank his face deeper into the shadows provided by the dark sable cloak. "I won't tell you twice."

Young Thorley stepped forward and clumsily lowered himself into the pit. Violent stripes of mud and moss appeared on the boy's scraggy arms and along his luxurious clothes. 

"Hurry up kid, we haven't the time." Berard said. 

The unnerving fear had returned to him. A sharp tension running through his mind, a dying urge to run away, to turn back. But those are no feelings to share with a company like this. 

Along the course of a handful of minutes, all the men lowered themselves into the pit. As Lord Gerdrick entered last, he gazed up at the sky. His eyes were filled with fear, he could sense the moonlight reflecting off the watery surface of his retina. A full moon had risen.