Meanwhile, in small villages on the border of the kingdom, everyone looked up in surprise at the sudden appearance of the magic spell etched in their faces.
The war with the beasts had ravaged the lands and left them nothing but blood-soiled. What remained were dead bodies and the broken survivors of the horrors that were the beast tide.
A three-year-old child too innocent to be tainted by the filth around him pointed to the sky and shook his mother for attention.
"What's that?"
His mother smiled and picked him up.
"That must be the good magicians saving us from the beasts."
The child smiled happily. He looked up at the spell then lay on his mother's chest.
"I also want to be a...."
At that moment everyone in the village fell. A few moments later, different colored tendrils rose up from their bodies and were sucked in by the spell above them.
