I had entered the Guild Hall of Oakhold with my blades drawn, but the Guild members had been prepared. The moment I opened the door and stepped inside, my heart was pierced by an arrow, promising an end to my vengeance before it had truly begun.


    As I fell to my knees, time stood as still as the waves of a midwinter lake. The floor of the Guild Hall drew closer as my eyes failed to keep watch on the world. How thoroughly disappointing to have been cut down before landing a blow against my prey.


    Gasping for air and bleeding out like a simple animal, I waited for death to take me into the next world, but that grace never arrived. Time itself had abandoned me in my folly, leaving me to suffer for days before that thing arrived… Rage boiled within me as frozen time mocked me with the faces of my prey standing around me.


    Though my wish for death grew stronger as my desiccated body aged within this timeless realm, my lust for the hunt swelled to unknown heights. My prey not only got away, but mocked my predator’s instincts by staying alive around my fallen body.


    No matter what I did, how much I focused, or what I told myself, I could not move. I haven’t a clue how long I was locked within that place, but relief arrived in the shape of a tall, monstrous being clad in robes of darkness itself. Beside the monstrous being stood a female lizard wearing a beautifully adorned dress. No doubt the keeper of this beast.


    It spoke to me under the watchful eye of its keeper.


    “I apologize for being late, time is difficult to work with. I come with an offer for you, Vidar the Hunter. I will grant you an opportunity for vengeance, and in return, you must simply hunt world-shifters.”


    The being finalized its offer by asking its keeper how well it had done, to which she simply nodded. With my gaze cast upon the two, my sight fixated on the beautiful lizard as she stared down at me, making it painfully obvious that I was of no concern to her.


    “You did well, my lord. Though you did not greet him, as is customary among the ensouled.”


    “The rules you things apply to yourselves grow so tiresome, I cannot be expected to learn everything with the frequency at which you change such nonsense.”


    “Don’t be a hatchling, my lord. Greetings have been customary for millennia. Leaving that aside, I would imagine our friend here would prefer to get to the point.”


    The indignation at being called a hatchling was palpable, and it terrified me as thoughts of how powerful this lizard must be to so casually refer to this monster as immature.


    The thing repeated the offer: work as a hunter or accept death. In my folly, I did not ask further questions as the promise of vengeance drew my addled mind. I accepted the offer, and not a moment later, I stood where I had, an arrow-perforated chest and a door closing behind me. The ravages of time had been undone, and this was what I wanted. A final stand against the cruel hordes of the Guild.


    Picking up the blade I had dropped, I began slicing my way through every Guild member present. They fought back as best they could, but my body refused to fall a second time. As the adventurers around me fell, I cursed the memories of my muscles as they enforced a strict policy of quick kills. None of the bastards suffered as their prey did.


    My body was flooded with unholy energy as the blade carved a path toward my doom. I had always been a proficient killer, but the unnatural power granted to me by this monstrous being had unmade what I was and turned me into a weapon of true slaughter. My blades met no resistance as the culling proceeded, and soon, the floor was soaked with the blood of sinners.


    As satisfaction settled within my broken heart, my body fell to the ground and my soul was left lingering to become a corrupted entity of senseless murder. Though I was to be given a sinner’s funeral, Lord Wreyn saw fit to bring my body to my final resting place. Through his kindness, I had a grave for my spirit to remember who I was.


    Following that tragic day, my time was spent watching, unseen in the shadows, and hunting the worldshifters. Those that would travel to our world to sow discord. Tales of old come to mind. Stories of worldshifters growing their power through the use of forbidden knowledge only to turn their might on the world, disrupting the balance of the kingdoms, and condemning swathes of lives to suffering under their tyranny.


    Though I drew no pleasure from butchering those who did not choose to come here, it was a task that had to be done for the sake of the balance.


    ————————


    “I’m sorry for interrupting your story, Shadow Man, but is it gonna be much longer? I’d like to hear it, but I’ve been standing still for far too long today, and my social energy is spent.”


    I did not know such a thing would be a concern for the Dragon, but it seems accommodations must be made. Rather than give the full tale of my unlife, I suppose a young one like her would need an abridged version.


    The monster who gave me unlife also bestowed upon me the sight of impact. The ability to see the significance of the impact a being would have upon the world, to see the impact a worldshifter’s knowledge would have. And as I cast my gaze upon the Dragon, it is clear that she will touch many lives, but very few related to her being a worldshifter.


    Having stalked her from the shadows, it became apparent that she would not draw the attention of my master, allowing me to let her live. Her actions, although profoundly odd at times, do not deviate from a true denizen of this world. Though, as I explain this, she exudes a sense of indignation.


    “Okay, let me just get this straight: I didn’t get killed because I have no skills and I’m unremarkable? Yeah, I’m just gonna take a moment to be offended… Seems a little rude to write me off like that…”


    “Don’t worry, Kira. You’re great at eating and breaking things.”


    “Thank you, Raya… and Lauren! Stop laughing, dang it!”


    As the Champion of Merciferus laughs at the Dragon, the gentle giant responds by swiping away the Champion’s feet with a deft claw, causing the Champion to fall over into the muddy soil. With a generous coat of the seasonal muck, the Champion’s laughter stops as she rises once more, throwing a clump of mud at the Dragon.


    The impact of rock and splattering dirt against Dragonscale made a simple thud, eliciting no reaction from the world-shifter.


    “Oh! But what about the dragon’s gold stuff in Tuiran? Doesn’t that make me remarkable? From what I’ve heard, other dragons wouldn’t do that for people.”


    Although she makes a reasonable argument, the fact remains that she hasn’t done anything that couldn’t be done with little effort by a denizen of this world. Though informing her of this yields further glares of indignation and arguments about her unusual additions to Tuiran’s prosperity. I would hope she does not stumble upon a reason for my master to notice her existence, as she currently does not need to be slain. With a thrown rock impacting her nose, the goblin draws her attention.


    “Kira, stop trying to get yourself killed, dummy!”


    “Right in the dang sensitive spot… Stop having such a good aim, Raya!”


    It was an impressive throw. The goblin managed to hit a target six murak above her with enough force to draw a reaction. She could become a hunter of legends, should that be what she desired. With the talents possessed by the three of them, they will continue to have a profound impact on this continent. My hope is that they limit themselves, so as not to travel to the eastern continent. The Kingdom of Immarderen would make a powerful foe to stand in their way.


    It is becoming apparent that this meeting will have to be cut short as the sparks of change grow increasingly dense around her. The growth of stress increases the likelihood of Kira lashing out, which I would prefer not to be caught up in.


    “Kira, when you arrive at the Dead Wastes before reaching the Lands Beyond Death, you must stop and wait. Do not set foot in that accursed place before you have been invited by the Shae. That is all I can tell you. I fear my time with you is coming to an end as the spell binding me begins to fade. My master is still unaware of you, and it is in your interest to keep it that way.”


    I can only hope that she heeds my advice as the spell fades and my consciousness returns to my shadowy body.


    Although I could have held onto the binding for longer, it is prudent that I limit my time with the worldshifter, lest my master take notice of her. Since accepting that thing’s deal, I have seen so much of the world that would have been impossible before. Though I died only a few years ago, the gifts that have been bestowed upon me allow me far more freedom than I could have ever imagined.


    Time to linger on such thoughts must wait as the calling of another event sounds within the skull, marking my status as a hunter.


    In front of me is a familiar rift, which will take me to the destination of my quarry. As I step into the rift, the world shifts around me, becoming a landscape of fungus and rot. It appears that the hunt has taken me to the Dark Below.


    “This way, Lilirinna! He’s closing in on us!”


    “No matter where you run to, blood mage, your death will find you!”


    The voice of the pursuer resonates with my skull, indicating that he is my prey. A tall but thin silhouette of a dark elven man chases two others. His fixation means this will be an easy hunt. With the abilities this body affords me, stalking him comes easy. The two elves he hunts are taking shortcuts through the forest of massive mushrooms covering the landscape. They’re doing a good job of evading their hunter for the time being, but he is gaining on them.


    Moving through the shadows of the undergrowth proves once more that this body was forged for this purpose.


    My prey moves with ease, dodging the underbrush likely to trip him. He is familiar with the terrain, but such things cannot touch me. It would be quite an amusing coincidence should he stumble onto a paralyzing bleach cap, though such a development is unlikely given my presence.


    The towering sporocarps provide such excellent shadows for cover as the blazerocks above provide a sprinkling of light alongside the glowing caps of the brilhoshroom. Combined, the visibility is enough to see the spores saturating the air.


    Between the fungi wanting to eat the rotting flesh of trespassers and the spores infecting the lungs of the living, the area provides a plethora of dangers for the unprepared. Extended exposure to the spores is prone to leave anyone in a terrible state wishing for death.


    How they feed aside from trespassers, I do not know, but they have already consumed the animal and plant life in the area, leaving only fungus to dominate the terrain. And a magnificent display of domination it is. Their virulent presence stands indomitable, and it would take a profound force to drive them out.


    It is obvious that the two elves running from the hunter are inexperienced in the art of traversal, and if they fail to lure in the hunter, they will fall to his experience. And I cannot strike as long as they remain in my line of sight, as I have to remain hidden. As is my nature, I must remain in the shadows, preying on the targets my master directs me.


    My prey continues his hunt as the two fleeing elves try their best to lose him, but the woman is slowing them down, the air smells of necroflesh, indicating that she has been hit by a venom.


    I cannot reveal myself yet as the fleeing elves are still in my line of sight, though we’re all closing in on a bend in the fungus forest. My time to strike looms ever closer as the best opportunity to buy time for them will arrive in mere moments, and as such, I need to be ready to strike.


    “Cease this pointless resistance, blood mage! The enchantress will die today!”


    My prey stopped to play with his quarry, a mistake that will cost him as the two elves get further away. The shadows hide me as well as I want them to, letting me sneak close enough to breathe on the neck of my prey. He shivers as I do, becoming aware that he is no longer the hunter.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    As he turns around to face me, I let my ethereal hand slide into his chest and, with his heart in my grasp, a simple thought is enough to end him. A quick death for my prey, but one unworthy of a warrior, as he had no chance of fighting back. Today he is not a warrior, he is prey.


    Though he was not a world-shifter, by opening the rift, my master has condemned him to death, and it is my duty to carry out the order.


    The area is rife with dangers as the two runners continue on their journey, though without this one to hunt them, they may yet live to see the coming age. Their first hurdle will be securing shelter as they tend to the woman’s wounds, grave as they are.


    With my task complete, it’s time to leave this place of beauty. The corpse of my prey will join the cycle through the fungal forest, and his soul will move on to the next life, while I must move on as well. There is little rest for a damned wraith such as I, as another rift opens.


    Leaving the land of rot and decay behind, the rift takes me to a frozen wasteland. I cannot say which time or place this is, as it feels unfamiliar. It appears the rift opened into a vast cave, though I don’t see anything of note. The stalagmites and stalactites grow aplenty, though there is little else to watch out for. Rather than standing here, I must get my bearings.


    The cave carries no signs of internal illumination; as such, I must conclude that the ray of light ahead of me will lead to the cave’s entrance.


    As I reach the entrance, it becomes apparent that this is a mountaintop, standing tall above the plains and forests below. The snow-covered cliffs around me form a crescent shape as familiar forests sprawl at the base. Forests where I once led the Dragon to safety, rather than hunt the mighty beast. I cannot help but feel curiosity as to what her fate might have been, had I not interfered.


    A roar nearby makes it apparent that this mountain is not deserted, and the resonating sensation tells me what I must do. The hunt calls to me, and my prey approaches.


    This is Frostclaw territory, and they are to be culled. Facing the approaching beast, I stare it down, although I would imagine our experiences of this situation are vastly different from one another. It charges at me as it prepares the frightening frost magic that comes as a natural aspect of these beasts.


    As it launches an icicle in my direction, I sidestep it as magic can affect my ethereal form. As we reach each other, it swipes at me, though with little luck as I have the advantage of not being bound by my shape. A wraith can simply fade into the shadows. Though this place has few shadows, the beast does not attempt to lure me away from the cave, which means I have the advantage.


    The magical nature of the beast means its hide protects it from my invasion, so simply crushing the heart will not be possible. As the beast swipes once more, I take hold of the claw, leveraging my ability to influence the corporeal to take hold of the beast’s claw. With a mighty heave, I pull on the tremendous paw with all my might, throwing it toward the cliff’s edge. I cannot penetrate its hide easily, but the jagged cliffs can.


    As I send it flying, the sound of the beast’s body impacting the cliffside sounds through the area, echoing among the rock faces. Though there is a moment of rest, it won’t last long as more Frostclaws approach. From the resonating, it appears I must handle three additional foes.


    A cluster of Frostclaws approaches, meaning this will not be a simple one-on-one fight, though it will carry other benefits. The uneven numbers will make mistakes and friendly fire more likely as the foes lose track of the battlefield.


    The trio is quick to approach, and the first begins its charge, though the other two appear more reluctant. With a simple shimmer of my form, I fade away from its bite, reforming by its side as I strike it.


    These beasts are known for their endurance and durability. And though I have the power to throw one, the more defensively oriented specimens tend to have an impressive ability to bind themselves to the ground.


    In my distracted moment, another took the opportunity to launch shards of ice at me. The sensation of my shadow being pierced is something I cannot get used to. It feels as though something pushes its way through me as my flesh reshapes itself to accommodate the foreign object. There is no pain involved, but it does drain my essence.


    The beast I struck has been left with a bruise and perhaps a broken rib or two, but that is far from enough to make it retreat. The other two continue their barrage, forcing me to retreat further into the cave. With the shadows around us deepening, my connection to my master grows alongside my power.


    Though I have become strengthened, the continued barrages of frozen magic prevent me from gaining the upper hand, and the fact that they have seen me means I cannot fade into the shadows completely.


    The charging beast makes a terrible target, so that means I must take out those favoring ranged combat. While becoming unseen isn’t possible, shifting into the shadows for speed is. Though I cannot match the defensive Frostclaw’s fortitude, it cannot match my speed.


    Slipping into the shadows, I move at inhuman speed toward the barraging beasts. A mere moment later, my form descends upon them as I strike with my shadow-empowered fist. Bones crunch under my assault, but I find myself compelled to draw them out of the cave, giving up my advantage. It is rare that I feel these compulsions, but they come from the monster itself.


    With one ranged Frostclaw wounded, I leave the cave behind as the other continues its magical assault while the defensive beast charges at me once more, though it is wary of the cliff.


    A surge of power fills me as I feel the attention of my master upon me. This is taking too long, and I need to hurry. With the additional power, my form becomes corporeal and strengthened beyond anything I can muster on my own. This fight is done, and now all that is left is to clean up.


    As the charging beast reaches me, I take hold of its jaws and twist my body, throwing it further into the snowy landscape. It has been weakened, but it lives. I cannot dwell on it as two Frostclaws remain.


    Charging them, one flees as the other draws in more magic, its attention focused on me as it prepares a spell of significant magnitude. As long as I am empowered by the monster, it won’t matter. It cannot harm me any longer. Grabbing hold of its upper jaw, I pull as I twist my body once more. It impacts the rock face as the first did. Waiting for a moment yields no information as to whether the two survivors wish to re-engage me in battle, though the rift opening suggests that my task has been completed.


    I cannot help but be curious about what my master has planned. These rifts do not seem random, but the machinations of such a monstrous being remain shrouded in the mists of eternity. I am but a tool to carry out orders and stop the threats posed by the worldshifters.


    Stepping into the rift before me shifts the world around me, and the landscape changes from frozen mountaintop to a hellscape of stone pillars and beasts of metal.


    “Now look what you made me do, bitch!”


    To think this hunt will be over in mere moments, a shame that I do not get to enjoy traveling this realm as my prey stands over the body of a young human woman. She is bleeding out, and I have no doubt that she will die soon, though that is of no concern to me, as he is my prey.


    As I approach, I remain unseen, though his actions seem to spur him into movement as he turns to flee, turning to face me. With an outstretched hand, I grab hold of his neck, lifting him off the ground as I stare into his eyes. There’s no remorse, no respect for the hunt, and no justification for the kill. It was needless, and it was wasteful.


    “What the fuck are you?! Let me go, you fucking monster.”


    I find myself chuckling internally at the notion of me being the monster when he has not seen what a true monster is.  He lacks perspective, though that is all the mercy he will receive today. Flexing my grip, his neck snaps, but he does not die. This time, I won’t respect the hunt either.


    As I let go of him, his limp body falls to the ground as he tries to gasp for air and beg for mercy, but his death will come soon as his lungs cease to function. He chose his hunting grounds well, as he is unlikely to be discovered in time for assistance.


    Another rift opens, proving that he will live out the rest of his pitiful life in this filthy alley.


    Before entering the rift, it seems appropriate to take a moment to stare at the skies. This is a place I have never known before, the skies are unfamiliar and the sounds from the surroundings are overwhelming. I cannot say that I wish to return here again, but should my mission call for it, I will have to.


    The rift reveals a desert covered in sand and bones, shrouded by night. As my body enters this new place, my shadows coalesce into blackened bones, forming a corporeal skeleton as well as robes to cover them. Standing before me is a beast of significant stature. It bears the twisted appearance of a rotting wolf merged with the unwilling flesh of man. A beast from the in-between.


    “So your master has finally sent his lapdog to deal with the Unbidden, has he?”


    It appears this being knows the monster I serve. A shame I cannot say that I was sent here to deal with it, and I feel no resonance at this thing’s words, indicating that it is not what I seek. Melding in with the darkness of night, I leave the being from beyond behind.


    “It appears I am of no interest to you. As such, I must warn you, lapdog. Do be careful, the workings of the ancients rarely benefit those with finite lives such as we. You may find that what you are doing will leave a taste most terrible in your mouth.”


    I was never a wise man, so I cannot say whether what the being says is true, but the bindings on my soul keep me from rebelling against the cage I find myself in. How I solve the problems is up to me, but whether the problems are solved or not is not a choice for me to make.


    I cannot linger any longer, the call of the hunt draws me west, further into this wasteland.


    The night is spent wandering through the desert as daytime approaches without much change in scenery. Dunes of sand covering bleached bones. The call continues drawing me west, although it is shifting further south.


    As midday approaches, an oasis comes into sight and as my eyeless sockets fixate upon it, the familiar sensation of resonance reverberates through me. I have found my goal, now I must find my quarry.


    The intensity of the sun makes it clear why my master forced this body upon me. My shadows would not have fared well in this region.


    Reaching the oasis, there isn’t anything standing out, and the call to hunt feels… odd…


    “Are you here to kill me?”


    From behind a rock, a child speaks, his voice resonating with me, though it doesn''t tell me to kill him.


    “No, I will not be killing you. What are you doing here, child?”


    “I ran away… The skeletons attacked my village and I ran away, I’m sorry…”


    He steps out from behind his cover, the boy is scrawny to say the least. By my guess, he has tried to survive out here on his own, and considering he’s still alive, I would say he has succeeded.


    “My name is Vidar. I believe I have been sent here to help you, child. Though I think it might be helpful if I knew your name.”


    “My mom says not to give out my name because demons use it to control you.”


    “Ah, but I am undead, not a demon, so you don’t have to worry about that.”


    He seems to think for a moment, caught up in the questionable logic, though there is truth to it. Demons cannot be undead as the infernal magic they consist of is corrupted by the necromantic energies. Rather than give me his name, he changes the subject and asks how I’m supposed to help him.


    “The master I serve has deemed you worthy of knowledge, and as his servant, I am the conduit with which to teach you.”


    There’s acceptance in his eyes, though I suspect it’s born of desperation rather than rationale, but it will have to suffice. Instead of dwelling on motivations, we begin talking about magic and how to use it. I explain how it can become a shield to defend what you hold dear, a weapon to strike down your foes, or a tool to build monuments to one’s own ego or uplift those around you.


    He appears enthralled by my words as we continue talking. Before setting foot in this desert, I had little knowledge of magic, but the longer I stay here, the more I know as secrets hidden from me become revealed. It is obvious that this is my master’s doing and this boy needs to become a mage of profound skill.


    With the knowledge bestowed upon me, our first objective becomes nourishment for the boy. What I know of magic appears to be rendered moot by the knowledge of the monster as I find myself capable of shaping the magic itself into the matter I wish to bring forth.


    At the mere thought of fruit and a push of magic, the energy coalesces and becomes what I want.


    "Whoa! Can you teach me to do that?!”


    “Not this exactly, but you will learn much of how to wield the magic of mortals.”


    Having conjured enough sustenance for the boy to have a feast, we begin our lesson. The first lesson being simple weaving. To my surprise, it appears we will not be spending ages teaching him. He takes to the magic as if born of it. In only a couple of tries, he has mastered the basics of weaving, allowing us to move on to the next lesson.


    The second lesson should prove tougher. Weaving beyond the confines of one’s body. The uses of which lie in healing without the reliance on divine magic. I know not why this has to be the second lesson, it seems to me that it would be far above the potential of a mere boy.


    Giving him a simple explanation, he gets to work without question. It doesn’t take long before he grasps the concepts hidden behind the magic, and as I conjure a beast from realms unknown, he tries to cast his magic upon it, though with little success.


    The beast reminds me of a common horse, though it holds bountiful magic within its body. It would be a fascinating subject for magical experimentation, but those thoughts are not mine, they are from the source of this borrowed magic. I cannot let them dominate my mind.


    “I can’t do it, Vidar…”


    Though tears well up in his eyes, his expression holds no sorrow, just worry that he cannot do as I need him to.


    His training has taken a handful of days so far, the beast has taken a liking to the boy, and the two often share meals, making sure the other is well fed. An unnecessary gesture, as I would simply conjure more if the food runs out.


    “Of course you can’t. That’s why we’re teaching you. What point would there be in teaching a master the same tricks he has known for a lifetime?”


    He stares up at me, seemingly unsure of what to make of my words. I’m not sure they are my words anymore, but I know in my empty chest that he is making progress. Within a week, he will have mastered this ability, and with it, he will grow at a tremendous pace.


    Time seems to be slipping for me as days pass without my notice. Whenever the boy calls out to me, I’m drawn out of my stupor, but left on my own, my mind goes dormant. I am unsure what to make of it, though I have to trust that my master knows what he is doing.


    “I did it, Vidar! I healed Bossy!”


    Inspecting the beast, it appears the boy did succeed. The beast has been healed of any old wounds or scars it had and now appears pristine, as if it had spent its life living in the mansion of a nobleman.


    As I prepare to teach him more, the sensation of a rift draws my attention, and it appears we are out of time.


    “I have to go, but continue your exploration of magic, boy. I hope to one day hear of your exploits. Perhaps you’re ready to give me your name now, so that I may listen to the bards’ tales in search of it.”


    “My name is Neithro. I promise I will do my best to become someone you can be proud of, Vidar!”


    “I knew a Neithro once, long ago. He was a brave man with a righteous heart and exceptionally skilled in barrier magic.”


    My old memories come flooding back, of drinking at the tavern with Neithro and Wreyn. I find myself aching to return to those days, but it cannot be. This deal I have made has been a curse of isolation. Leaving the boy behind with his beast, I take my leave through the rift as the world fades around me.


    Reaching the other side, the knowledge of magic disappears, and my body returns to that of my shadowy self. Though my body is incorporeal, it feels much more tangible to me. I guess I have grown accustomed to this unlife.