Beryl’s good eye shot open in the darkness. It was the middle of the night, and awaking from her too-real dreams, she barely remembered where she was. All she knew was that she was in danger. It screamed at her senses like a warning siren. Quickly, Beryl scrambled out of her bedroll and looked around. Her fire had died down. Her moment of panic faded instantly.

I can take care of that, she thought with a brief mental smirk.

She began to gather her mana, summoning the flames to her hands, both to illuminate the darkness and to ward off whatever threat lingered within it. The moment her magical energies began to collect, however, she felt a sudden pain in the side of her neck, and her mana dissipated instantly. Beryl tried to move and found herself frozen in place, as if a statue in the night. She tried to scream, but found she had no voice.

Then she heard it. A horrifying sound of something large trudging through mud and shallow water. A frightened gulp was all the movement that the pyromancer could muster. Then, the clouds above her parted, and in the revealed moonlight, her worst fears were confirmed. Pulling its way toward her was a huge, misshapen monstrosity, its thick, sickly purple tentacles supporting its massive frame. Aloise had warned her of this. “If you’re going to night in the Slade,” she had said, “make sure you keep your fire high. There are some nasties in the water. Fascinating nasties, but still, nasties.” And Beryl stared into the inhuman, hungry face of the worst of them. The Nauctopus. The creature that feeds on magic, and those who wield it.

The Nauctopus crept ever closer, until it was close enough to lunge at the paralyzed pyromancer. Outwardly, Beryl gave no reaction, because she couldn’t. Inwardly, Beryl screamed in pure, abject terror. Suddenly, just before the creature’s foremost tentacle struck her, a shape flew into her view from her right, knocking the thick limb away. Beryl caught only a flurry of motion, and then a flash of steel (or was that silver?) and then heard the horrible, unearthly scream of pain from the Nauctopus. It pulled itself away, and Beryl’s rescuer glanced back at her.

“Forgive the intrusion, dear lady, as well as my rude manners, for I do not presently have the time to properly introduce myself.”

Another ghastly sound from the vile creature drew the man’s attention, although he risked one final glance at her. “One moment, please,” he said calmly, drawing a thin silver blade from the inside of his cane. The Nauctopus shrieked in rage and threw itself at the man, who casually severed one of its remaining limbs. It threw everything it had at him then, but he sidestepped the simultaneous assaults with unnerving ease, then held up the shaft of his cane to deflect the final strike. The Nauctopus latched on to it and pulled, but the man’s strength was beyond human, and he held on. Then, almost casually, he pulled back, and the Nauctopus came flying through the air toward him. As it reached him, he swiftly thrust his blade into its gigantic body. The creature seemed to stop in mid-air, convulse in a death throe, and then, amazingly, simply vanished.

With two quick flicks of the wrist, the man shook the creature’s blood from off his blade and returned it to the cane, which he then set to the ground as though preparing for a leisurely walk. He stepped close to Beryl, who was still frozen from the paralyzing barb the Nauctopus had struck her with. The man smiled at her, the upper corners of his mouth-ringing beard stretching upward across his handsome face.

“Well, that was certainly disagreeable, was it not?”

Beryl wanted to say something, do something, but she was not able to. The man nodded in understanding.

“Ah, of course. Do forgive me, dear lady.” The man drew his blade from the cane once again and struck at Beryl’s neck. She panicked, but could not react. Fortunately, he stopped short of her skin. Unable to move, she had no idea how close he had gotten, but she guessed she wouldn’t have been able to fit a finger between her neck and his sword. The man smiled wider, and then flicked his wrist, tapping Beryl’s neck with the flat of the blade. Suddenly, Beryl could move again, and she almost fell to the ground in surprise.

“That wasn’t funny!” Beryl managed.

As the man replaced his blade once again, he nodded in agreement. “I know. I do not do comedy. Far too trite, you know.”

Beryl caught her breath, realizing for the first time that she had barely been able to breathe while immobile. After a very long moment, she looked back at the man. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. My name is Raiker Venn.”

Beryl nodded. “I’m Beryl.”

The man’s smile widened to a grin. “I assure you, I am well aware.”

She narrowed her eye at him. “How?”

“My dear Beryl,” Raiker said, “you do have a tendency to leave your mark wherever you pass. And truly, your mark is a difficult one to miss.” Beryl looked away, disliking his words, but unable, regrettably, to deny them. “Truly, Beryl, I am a fan.”

Her head snapped back toward him. “A fan? What do you mean?”

“What I have strived to achieve over countless centuries, you have cultivated in just a few short months. Truly, your work is a thing of beauty, and I have created much beauty from it. You, my dear Beryl, are quite the inspiration to me.”

Beryl felt a flood of emotions, and none of them were anything she liked. She was angry, confused, insulted and disgusted. She had no idea how to accurately explain all of that to Raiker, but as she felt her flames beginning to gather, she thought of a way to communicate the general idea. “Leave. Now.”

Raiker Venn smiled. “Gladly, my dear. I would sooner cast away my own quill than stand in the way of your art. I do, however, have a simple gift for you. A token of my admiration, as it were.”

“I don’t want…” Beryl began, then stopped, as Raiker Venn vanished, leaving only a single sheet of paper drifting back and forth where he had been standing. Beryl caught the paper and summoned her flames to incinerate it, but it did not burn. Instead, the ink seemed to flare to life, dancing in flaming letters on the page. Reluctant but curious, Beryl read the verse she saw.

Beryl stared at the paper for several long moments before she shut her eye tight, breathed deeply, and cried.