Under the cover of the dark night, only a sea of dense and shadowy trees stretched around them, like a black cloak covering everything. There was no trace of civilization. The caravan of carriages, with lights off and curtains drawn, advanced slowly along a worn and dusty path, like a serpent slithering through the underbrush, leaving behind a faint trail of disturbed leaves and crushed twigs.
On either side, a group of black-armored knights, with their visors concealing their faces, followed with firm steps, their armor gleaming like the night itself. They emanated an aura of death, their presence seemed to drain the life from the air. In the most prominent carriage, an elderly man with a long white beard and hair sat, his left eye replaced by a rare clockwork prosthetic whose intricate mechanisms emitted a soft, rhythmic ticking sound. He wore a black robe, the fabric woven with subtle patterns that seemed to shift and glow in the faint moonlight, and carried a slightly twisted wooden staff engraved with ancient runes that whispered secrets to the wind.
"We're almost there," said the old man. Beside him, a woman of white skin and great beauty stood out with her red tunic. "Yes, this time we've had a great harvest; the Dean will surely be pleased and reward us generously," said the woman.
"Bitch, don't forget you almost spoiled the mission and expect to be well rewarded; if it weren't for Mage Aldric, we wouldn't be here," interjected a creaking voice that ended with a loud snap. This figure was completely cloaked in black, their face hidden behind a mask, but it was clear that beneath their cloak, unknown entities were writhing.
"Worm, do you want to fight here? You forgot that when the mages summoned a fire lord, you were the first to want to flee; are you a coward, Adam?" said the woman mockingly.
"Watch your words, Lanira. It's not cowardice to flee from an enemy that will surely kill us," retorted Adam with a sharp snap.
"Enough, both of you, this isn't the time to argue about that. None of us knew that the mages would have someone capable of summoning a fire lord to protect their caravan. Though now I understand why they did it; who would expect to find so many children with magical abilities in such a remote area?" said Aldric in a grave voice.
"Yes, it was quite unexpected, but in the end, after a good fight, they ended up dead, and we obtained valuable rewards. Besides, Lord Aldric got suitable corpses for his experiments and charming escort toys," said Lanira, glancing sideways at the black-clad knights.
"Adam, go see how the children are doing; they're probably awake by now. It's time for them to learn their fate," said Aldric in a serene voice.
"Alright, Lord Aldric," Adam said, stepping out of the carriage. Before him appeared seventeen carriages full of children, which resembled more like prisoner-of-war cages, covered with metal bars to prevent escapes. "A good haul: 234 children in total. Those white mages will be furious when they find out what's happened," said Adam, amused.
In the wagons, most of the children were awake; their ages did not exceed 14 years, and all were terrified of their surroundings, trapped and helpless, like pigs heading to the slaughterhouse.
In a carriage near the center of the caravan, a 12-year-old boy with black hair and white skin lay unconscious. As time passed, the boy slowly came to. The first things he heard were scared voices, children crying, the sound of hooves on the ground, and a metallic symphony, as if thousands of tiny bells were ringing.
When he finally managed to open his eyes, he saw the starry sky; it was a beautiful sight, but what astonished and terrified him was that three moons hung in the sky, illuminating the world. The boy, shaken, sat up and looked around.
Upon seeing the imposing army surrounding him and the dozens of caged children beside him, the boy spoke, his voice filled with shock: "Shit!"