Stories often start and end in strange ways. In this tale, we will begin at the end and move forward.

Gasps and cries fill the cold air as the light of the full moon shines upon a forest. Stomping feet and worried breaths belong to a man running from a soundless predator. His mouth leaked blood that stained the beard on his face, eyes flickering from shadow to shadow, bloodshot and pained. The man's back is a pincushion of porous spikes. He cradled an amber glow with his gloved hands.

A faint rumbling under his foot told The man his time had come. He steeled his nerves and raised his hands, the amber glow intensifying. With bated breath, he waited till the ground gave way and threw the light in his hands to the forest floor.

The light started small, but it grew until the forest, once serine with, the moonlight was now filled with blinding shades of white and yellow.

As the light disappeared, everything caught within it reduced to ash. Neither man nor beast survived the silent light that overtook them.

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"That is bullshit, and you know it!" A young man's shout reverberated through tiled halls, originating from behind a large wooden door in an office decorated with books, maps, and paintings. Two men stared at each other, one who barely reached manhood with shaggy brown hair and green eyes flecked with gold. The other man had short white hair and gold wisened eyes. The elder of them sat in a sizable leather chair behind a cluttered desk in which the brown-haired man was leaning over, seething at the elder.

"John, I understand you are worried, but please understand scouting missions take time," The white-haired man said.

"He was meant to be back a month ago! Send a team to find him. Please..." John begged.

Please...