Prologue

The scholar stopped his running. He stood there panting as he frantically searched his surroundings. The forest surrounded him, its branches swaying in the night breeze. Snow crunched beneath his feet as he turned.

            Where is it? He thought.

            He listened; and heard nothing. No chirping birds, no skittering of squirrels, not even the wind through the leaves. The forest knew that danger lurked in its shadows. Anything that made a sound would become the hunted. He knew this, understood it from his upbringing amongst hunters; yet he couldn’t quiet his breathing.

            He was still processing everything that had happened at his camp. His hired guard, a soldier from the south, dragged into the underbrush by….. something. He thought it might have been the lynx, but it approached from he opposite direction. The attacks were also at the same time, and he knew that lynx were solitary hunters. So, what could it have been?

            He was able to defend himself against the cat with his dagger, the only weapon he carried on him. Something that his guard had constantly mocked him about. Now, after he had lodged his dagger into the cats skull, he wished he had carried something more.

            He wondered if the others from his camp had survived the attack. That thought had just entered his head, but before it could fully take root he froze. He had finally heard something. He could have sworn it was someone speaking, but he wasn’t sure.

            Then he heard it again. He tried to pinpoint the sound, but it seemed to come from everywhere. When he heard it next, he shuddered. Someone was saying his name, but it was not a voice he new. A twig cracked behind him. This he heard, but it was different from the voice. He thought he heard the voice, but now realized that he felt it. Felt the voice deep inside his mind and soul.

            He turned and stared in horror as the lynx emerged from the shadows. Its thick paws left heavy prints in the snow as it came forward, its face shadowed by the trees. His dagger was still in its skull. It should be dead. It should not be able to move. Even those cursed with undeath don’t rise this quickly. It wasn’t possible.

            Hand it over.

            He felt those words. Spoken in a language that he did not know, yet somehow, he knew what they meant. Was he mistaken about the lynx? Was it one of the magical creatures he had read so much about. Most of them had the ability to speak. But the cats jaw didn’t move. It didn’t even growl, and as he looked, he noticed that it was not breathing.

            “Wh-what are you?” He barely got the words out, trying to mask his fear, but knowing he failed.

            Hand it over. Your research, along with the stone tablet.

            What did a lynx want with research? “I don’t know what you are talking about. What tablet?” He felt his shoulder. He left his bag at the camp site. If he was lucky, one of the others grabbed it.

            The cat took a step forward, the crunch of snow echoed in the quiet. You are very bad at lying. You have been pursued for days. It is known that you have the tablet, and he wants it.

            “If it is who I think you are talking about, then I’m not saying a damn thing. I will take its location to my grave.”

            Pain ripped through him. He looked down. A blade stuck out from his stomach. He turned his head to see his guard standing behind him, pushing the blade further through him. The scholar looked to his guard’s face. It was lifeless. Death had clouded his eyes, and he was certain that if he were to check for breathing, he wouldn’t find it. He had heard the stories. Wild tales told by travelers who lost those they traveled with. Killed by unseen hunters, only to have their bodies possessed afterward. Using the host to slaughter everything near it, with no rhyme or reason. He had heard the tales, and he tossed them aside as complete falsehoods. How he had been a fool.

            You need not say a word. Zakar will extract the information from within.

            The scholar watched in terror as the flesh of his guard’s face began to ripple. The man’s head exploding as hundreds of tiny beetles rushed out of their host’s body. Their bodies were shaped like a drop of water, they had no visible eyes, nine insect-like legs, and a mouth filled with pointed teeth that seemed to make up most of its head.

            They scurried down the man’s arm towards the scholar, who screamed in agony as these creatures began to eat their way into his body.