Nyal Belthorne breathed in the fresh, clean air of the forest, listening to the sound of the wind rushing through the leaves. The birds chirped above him and he could hear the sound of the animals going about their daily business. He stood in a clearing, surrounded by tall trees and shrubs.

The sun was shining high above him, casting dark shadows into the clearing. It was a warm, near cloudless day, something normal at this time of the year. It would be winter soon, and Nyal wanted to get as much sun as he could before the snow began to fall.

He lived in Skodur, in the middle of Veridun. To the north was Ammos, a hot desert landscape. In the south was Voda and Riba, two large kingdoms on the coast famous for their seafood. In the mountains to the west was Planina, an entire kingdom scattered thoughout the mountain range. In the east there were a great many cities, and a great many kings and queens fighting for control of the entire eastern part of Veridun. It was a mess in the east, and the people of Skodur mostly ignored it.

Nyal sat down in the fresh, bright grass, relishing in the feel of the blades against his skin. He didn't wear much, black pants and a brown tunic, an unbuttoned black vest over the top. His sword and sheath were next to him, lying on his knee length black coat. His boots sat next to them, upright and unbuckled.

He rested his hands on his knees, closing his eyes and listening to the sounds of nature around him. The chirping of the birds, the little pitter patter of a rabbit as it moved about, a frog ribbiting near the rushing river to the left of him. He loved it.

He wouldn't get this for much longer. One, because of winter, and two, because the Warlock Guild of Protection was sending him east, to Fiume, where a lot of the fighting was going on. He didn't want to go, he would miss the forest, but at the same time he knew he would enjoy Fiume.

Fiume was a city half on the water, half on the land. The rich lived on houses that looked as though they floated on the blue water, while the poor lived on the land nearby. The rich part of the city sat on the Fiume River, the longest river in Veridun.

Water was Nyal's affinity, his power, what he controlled. He flowed with the liquid, became one with it, so as to use it when he needed. That's why he was so excited about Fiume. From what the Guild had told him, he would be staying on the river, as close to the water as he could get without being in it.

He left in a week and would be there for as long as it took to do his job. Which, with the current situation in Fiume, could be a while.

Nyal sighed, lying back in the grass. The wind blew above him, the cool breeze a perfect partner for the bright yellow sun. He would have to back soon, the Guild requested that he come in once a day, for a reason unknown to him. Surveillance, most likely, need to keep an eye on your assets.

He'd go soon, he did have all day after all. For now, he'd just lie about, and do nothing. He smiled, he really was lazy. In his defense, he probably did deserve a day off at least once. There was nothing for him to do, so why not relax for a while?

He sighed again, opening his eyes to the bright blue sky. Despite how much he wanted to relax, he was not in the mood to get in trouble for showing up late. He stood up, stretching his arms high above his head. He breathed in the cool air once more, not really wanting to leave. Yes, he could come back tomorrow, but it might not be as beautiful then.

Reaching down, he grabbed his sword, attaching it back to his belt. He didn't use it much, only when it was really necessary, like when he travelled to Ammos, as there wasn't much water for him to use.

He picked up his coat, but didn't put it on. It was far too hot for the thick coat today. He slung it over his shoulder, the wind pulling at it and messing up his hair. He wasn't unattractive, according to some of the women he'd been with, but he wasn't gorgeous either. He had light brown, almost blonde hair, with strands of darker hair visible throughout. He had small bright cerulean eyes, and when combined with his oddly shaped eyebrows made him look constantly angry. He had an angular face, all sharp and pointy, high cheekbones and pointy chin. His thin lips always seemed to be turned down in a frown.

He was almost thirty and tall, very much so. He towered over most others in Skodur, who's people were naturally short. He was born in Riba, near the ocean. In Riba and Voda people were very tall, the average being more than six feet. He was skinny, yet toned, years of training allowing him to gain some muscle, but keep his slim figure.

He turned, heading out of the clearing. If he looked up, he could see the top of castle that sat in the centre of Skodur's capital, Dreeva. King Leopold ruled over the kingdom, and had done for almost sixty years. The people of Dreeva, and probably of all of Skodur, could tell that his son, William, was getting sick of waiting for the throne. By the time the old king died, William would be an old man. It was a common joke among the people of the city, one that Nyal had heard, and even made, often.

The view was quickly blocked by copious amounts of lush, green trees. Sunlight seeped through in patches, making the forest seem all the more mystifying. A bird flew by his face, shocking him into a laugh. He grinned as he walked, taking in his surroundings.

Nyal had only moved about a hundred metres into the trees, if he turned he could still see the clearing he had just been in. The forest around him seemed to grow darker, almost like it was night, and he could feel a chill run down his spine. Something was wrong. The forest never felt like this.

He stopped, listening and looking around himself. The river was still rushing to the right of him now, but the animals were quiet. He couldn't see much besides from green and brown. There were no birds, no rabbits, nothing, not even a frog croaking by the water.

That's when he heard it, the footsteps, the panting breath. They were coming from behind him.

Nyal moved quickly, a creature of habit, running to the nearest tree and climbing until he was high in the branches, invisible to prying eyes. He looked around for an available source of water nearby, maybe some left on the leaves from the rain the night before. There was none. The river would have to do if he needed it.

He calmed his breathing, his heart rate slowing down to a reasonable level. He was probably just overreacting, but years of fighting had taught him to always be on guard.

He crouched in the tree, watching through the leaves at the ground below him and listening for the footsteps. They were coming closer, closer, until they were right underneath him.

They stopped, and the sound of panting breaths could be heard. Nyal looked closer. Below him was a man with dark brown hair, dressed in royal garb. He couldn't see any other details of the man, not height or features.

The man looked behind him, taking a step away from Nyal's tree. He was being chased, that much was obvious, by who or what, Nyal did not know. Another set of footsteps could not be heard, no matter how much Nyal tried. Apparently, the man could hear some, as he scampered away from the tree and further into the forest, towards the river.

Nyal followed the man, jumping from tree to tree, as silent as possible. This used to be his favourite thing to do when he was in his teenage years. He could spend hours just swinging from tree to tree like the monkeys he'd heard about, the ones that lived in the jungles near Fiume.

The man ran until he hit the river, tripping over roots and running into bushes in his hurry to get away from whatever was chasing him. His fist was clenched tight, as if he was holding something.

Thief, maybe? he thought, Running from someone perhaps? Nyal had seen plenty of them in his job. He'd chased down thieves and criminals regularly. He sighed, back to work already.

The man stopped at the bank of the river, looking down at the water like it was going to hurt him. It will if you are what I think you are, Nyal thought, swinging onto a nearby tree and watching the man again.

He still couldn't hear or see what or who was chasing him, and was growing more and more confused by the minute.

He heard a strange thumping sound, and his vision was filled with black. He blinked, falling backwards and almost out of the tree. He placed a hand against his mouth to stop the gasp that threatened to escape.

The black passed, and the leaves and trees were visible once again. Nyal scrambled as far forward as he could without falling out, trying to get a glimpse at what had just fallen from the sky.

A person, wearing black hooded robes that went down to their feet, layered in such a way that tattered cloth sat over the top of the main part of the robes. Their face was hidden by the large hood. That wasn't the most important thing, no, far from it.

Large, black wings stretched out from the person's back, reaching high up into the trees. That must have been what he saw when they landed. That must be why he couldn't hear them. They would have been flying the entire time. He'd never seen anything like them before.

"Finally," the person, no, the woman, growled, "Stop this, give me what is rightfully mine."

So, he is a thief, Nyal thought, watching the scene in silence, his bottom lip between his teeth. Who in the name of the gods would steal from someone like that?

The man laughed, clenching his fist tighter. "Yours? This was never yours!" he growled, taking a step towards the bank, "It was always ours!"

The woman's wings flared out again, one striking a tree opposite Nyal. She took a step towards the man. "Give it back, or I'll take it by force," she snarled, "You know I can. I've already chased you from Ammos to here."

Nyal's frowned deepened. Ammos was a week away by horse. There was no way they could have run all the way to Dreeva from there. It made no sense.

Nyal decided to step in then, despite his worry and fear and confusion. It looked like something was about to go down, and it was part of his job to stop that, no matter who or what it was.

He dropped from the tree to the left of the winged woman, catching the attention of both people. The man stood up straighter, looking down his nose at Nyal. He had bright blue eyes, framed by wrinkles. He was familiar, but Nyal couldn't tell where from.

The woman turned towards, only her lips and chin visible under the hood. He could see curly black hair peeking over from between the folds.

"Who are you?" the woman asked, not meanly, curiously, like he was a creature she had never encountered before.

"My name is Nyal Belthorne," he started. At that, the man seemed to take a step back. Did he know who Nyal was? A lot of people did. The woman however, looked like she had no idea who he was. "I am a member of the Warlock Guild of Protection, and as a member, must ask you to calmly settle whatever problem you have with each other." He always had to start it like that, even though he knew most of the time it wouldn't work.

This time was no exception. "Too bad, kid," the man said, "Not gonna happen." The man put whatever was clenched in his fist in his pants pocket and removed his pale blue coat. Underneath was a waistcoat and white dress shirt. Stitched into the waistcoat was a phoenix, the emblem of Ammos, one that only castle staff wore.

The longer Nyal was around these people, the more confused he was getting.

"Can't leave behind any witnesses," the man growled. He stepped towards Nyal, who's eyes widened at the words. The woman, for all their arguing, did nothing to help.

Nyal took a fighting stance, wary. This won't be too hard. Just as he thought the words, the man's eyes turned a deep, unsettling red, fixing his glare on Nyal. He took a step forward, holding his hands out to his sides. As he walked, they caught alight, sending a bright orange glow throughout the forest.

Nyal's breathing sped up. He glanced towards the winged woman, but she did nothing. No warlock could do that, set their body parts on fire, it would burn them, but this person didn't seem to care about that. Nyal glanced between the man's hands and his eyes, which were beginning to grow black-green scales around them, like a snake or lizard.

He lifted his arms, and water rose from the river nearby. The man didn't seem to notice, only lifted up his own flaming hand, preparing to strike. Before he could, Nyal doused his hand with the water, sighing in relief as the flames went out. He pulled more water from the river.

He surrounded himself in orbs of water the size of his head, ignoring the winged woman. It seemed she did not want to get involved, happy enough to watch it all play out. The man growled loudly, setting his hands alight again and stalking towards him.

He struck, shooting fire from his hand, only to be blocked by one of the many floating orbs. Nyal moved to the side, firing one of the balls of water at his opponent and knocking him back. He continued to land hits on the man, until he was knee deep in the river. It only seemed to anger the strange man more, his attacks becoming sporadic and harsh.

Nyal was unprepared for the battering of fire he got, blocking every one with his water, but unable to hurt the man himself. The fire seared and burned his face and arms. The blistering skin was probably going to scar if he didn't fix it quickly. It would only add more to the collection.

His water orbs were gone and the man was making his way out of the river, his teeth bared. The scales had spread all over his face, crawling down his neck. Nyal stepped back, glancing at the winged woman out of the corner of his eye. She watched him, lips turned down in a frown.

He tried to get more water from the river, the trees, anywhere he could find. But there wasn't time, the man was in front of him, mouth open in an inhuman roar that hurt Nyal's ears. He moved backwards again, grunting when his back collided with the trunk on a tree.

In all honesty, he felt a little ashamed of himself. He was known as one of the most powerful warlocks in the realm, and he was about to die after a five minute fight.

The man's mouth opened wide, and instead of the usual tongue and teeth, all Nyal could see was the bright blue of flame.

The fire shot of the man's mouth, streaking towards Nyal with no time to stop it. He was sure that even with water he wouldn't be able to stop it. All he registered was the most immense heat he had ever felt in life heat. Then all he saw was black. He heard a scream, one he was sure was his, but didn't feel any pain. Had he really died that quickly?

He hadn't. The scream hadn't been his and the black he had been seen was not death. It was the winged woman. She finally stepped into the battle, using one inky black wing to block the torrent of blue flame. Nyal's vision returned to him when the woman screamed and collapsed to the ground, cradling her injured wing.

Looking around, Nyal could no longer see the man. No footsteps sounded to tell him which way he had gone. It was as though he hadn't ever been there.

He looked down at the woman, her hood had come off, revealing the strangest and scariest eyes he had ever seen. The sclera was pitch black, as was the pupil, but the iris was a bright, near florescent green. They were teared up, and tear tracks were running down her pale cheeks. Her wing covered her entire body. There was a bare and blistering patch on one of them. Any of the feathers that were left were burned to a crisp, black against the raw muscle that was visible.

He crouched down next to her, looking at her incredulously. "Why?" he asked, "Why did you do that?"

She didn't reply, only stood, towering over him with a menacing glare on her face. She pulled her hood back over her head and stretched her wings out. She winced at the pain, but didn't let it stop her from pushing herself into the air.

"Wait! I can-" he started, but she was already high above the trees and out of hearing range. "-Heal you." She disappeared from view in a black blur. He sat there, staring up at the sky with wide eyes, knees pressed into the now soaking grass. He panted, trying to wrap his mind around everything that had happened and coming up with nothing.