The air was freezing as it whipped around the hem of his cloak, exposing his bare, pale legs. His breathing was heavy and wheezy, and when he exhaled a cloud of mist hung in the air before him, momentarily highlighting the glacial temperature. He stumbled as he ran over the mountaintop, tripping on the uneven ground; there wasn’t a single person who knew where he was.

      He paused, leaning his hands on his knees and gasping for breath. Straightening up, he let out a desperate cry, followed by a hoarse yell: “Master, where are you?”

        There was no reply, and he had not expected one; despite the throbbing pain that was tearing through his ribcage he continued his dashed wanderings across the mountaintop. The glowing stars only hindered him in his bid for secrecy, and as he heard a scrabbling behind him he dodged behind a dropping Oak tree, peering between the branches. Upon discovering it was a lone owl in the treetops, however, he continued his quest, leaping over rocks and mounds of earth as he raced towards his destination.

         The pain ripping through him was almost unbearable now; he felt as though his ribs were going to crumble, his pounding heart going to burst out of his chest and stain his black robes scarlet. But he had to keep going; he had to.

        As he clambered over a particularly large rock he caught a glimpse of a steep, downwards slope, and without hesitation leapt towards it. As his feet ground into the very edge of the cliff face the rock crumbled beneath him and he slid down it at an alarming speed, but he didn’t cry out in shock; in fact, it barely seemed to register in his prematurely lined face. His long, dark hair whipped around him, obscuring his vision. Cold, slimy mud was gathering up his back. Sensing he was near the bottom, he threw out a hand to slow himself but sliced it on a jagged rock as he sped past. Blood began pouring from the wound and he swore in anger, but the speed of his descent wiped out the sound of his voice.

       He rolled to a stop with a groan, and peering upwards found himself before some sort of woodland. His stomach lurched in excitement and he set off again, joy racing through every vein in his body; he was almost there.

      The forest seemed never-ending. He ran and ran, dodging every branch and leaping over every root, the pain in his chest replaced with an ecstatic energy. Suddenly he stumbled into a clearing, moonlight reaching into every inch of darkness, and his heart skipped a beat. There was a thick, grey-white mist rolling along the ground, but as he stared it began to rise upwards so slowly it looked as though it was not moving. The mist seemed to shift inwards to the centre of the clearing and cling together so it was in a long, thin bundle. The colour began deepening, slowly turning deep grey, and then black. The man let out an excited cry and tried to run forwards, but his feet were rooted to the spot and he was unable to move. He watched as the mist vanished, leaving behind a small black bundle, almost like a blanket, a tiny near-transparent hand just visible from beneath the layers. The bundle sunk slowly to the ground, coming to rest at the base of an extremely old, gnarled tree.

      The bond holding the man’s feet down suddenly broke and he ran forwards, his heart pounding in his throat. Before he had felt nothing but excitement; now a feeling of fear and dread at what he would find began to mask it, mingled with a sense of happiness at having got here at last.

      He ran directly forwards, and sunk to his knees beside the bundle, which was groaning and gasping for air. He reached out his hand slowly, unsure whether to touch it; deciding it was the best thing to do, he placed his hand on a piece of material and slowly rolled it backwards. What it revealed made him gasp in shock: at first glance it appeared to be a baby, most likely newborn, but on second inspection it was too large, and the skin too lined to be an infant. It was ghostly white, almost transparent, and the skin seemed to roll up at the joints, as though it was too big for the body inside. The eyes opened, but they had no iris; they were plan white, but for a single, black pupil in the centre of each. The forehead was heavily creased, as though it was frowning with its non-existent eyebrows. The head was bald and it had no eyelashes either, although the entire body was covered in a thick, white hair, almost like fur.

        It took several loud, shuddering breaths before croaking in a deep, cold voice, “Sangwith…”

       Until then, the man had been leant back on his hands, as though terrified and repulsed at the spectacle before him. However, upon hearing his name being called he scrabbled forwards and dropped his abdomen to the floor in some sort of deranged bow.

      “Master!” he cried, still bowing, “It has been a long time, a long –“

“Silence!” croaked the Master, “Yes it has been a long time! A long time I have waited here for somebody to prove how much they valued my power!”

      Sangwith let out a strange, strangled yelp as he peered at the being before him. “I have tried, Master, so hard and for so long…”

       “You could always have found me if you had wanted it enough. Eternal glory, simply for serving me! But that is not of my concern right now. Tell me news of what you have heard.”

      Sangwith straightened up, his face suddenly solemn. “Master, I do not know what you mean –“

      “You know full well what I mean, Sangwith! I know you have heard revelations; I sense it on your person.”

     Sangwith sat in silence for several moments, staring at his master. “There is talk of a warrior becoming of age, a warrior beyond all others … the warrior you have feared for so long, Master.”

      His master remained silent for several moments, rolling this news around his head. “A warrior who has just become of age? This does not trouble me, I have no concerns with children.”

      “Master, it is said he has powers, far beyond any other you could expect. His roots lay far back, with the previous Vojas, and his talent is supposed to be beyond belief.”

      “And have you witnessed these powers?”

“No, Master; it is just what I have heard from others.”

       The Master did not speak for several moments as he took more rattling breaths; his speech had clearly exhausted him. “Well, Sangwith, in that case, I will require your assistance.”

      Sangwith gave a grateful sob, obviously joyful at how his master brushed off the news. “Anything, master, anything you necessitate!”

     “I require you to fetch me a … special diet.”

“A – a special diet?”

“Yes, Sangwith. I wish to return.”

      And he started to laugh, a loud, manic laugh which echoed throughout the trees and hadn’t seemed to come from the frail being on the floor.