Your pirates obey our laws better than most humans. Still, they are rather prudish and inflexible in their views of the family. What does it matter who has the blood of another in choosing family? Or the shape of genitals between lovers? Heart calls to heart, and love is beautiful in any form. True freedom is to form the bond you want with those you love.

  Orc Lord Shursimini Titanhammer

  said of matters of the heart to Pirate King Chinih Yadong

  in the light of the setting sun in Nakatrak, Thak’an Rai Nak

  We should keep moving.” Kastytis said, pleading with Solomon. The trio had made much progress wandering through the labyrinth and covered many miles of treacherous terrain. “I hate this darkness; it feels like it will never end. It is suffocating.”

  “I can illuminate the caverns with my power if it stops your complaining,” Cortana said with a slight growl. The maid was unphased by the endless underground labyrinth, the water and lava etched caves that seemed to continue without end. In fact, she seemed more at home there than she ever had within Ulric’s castle.

  “I think that might make it worse,” Kastytis said, looking a little green. The older warrior had grown increasingly agitated as they descended deeper into the depths of the world. “Then I could see that this is never going to end.”

  Solomon’s laughter interrupted their bickering. “I might have a solution for both of you.”

  “Oh?” Cortana looked at Solomon, her eyes glinting in the reddish glow of her hair. She grinned mischievously at Kastytis. “I guess he would make a light snack?”

  “You cannot eat me!” Kastytis shouted at her, drawing his sword. His fear was rampant on his face as he brandished his blade.

  “Calm yourselves,” Solomon said. “While imprisoned, I learned of a few spells that would allow me to seal each of you into a gemstone. Along with many other spells that influence the fabric of our reality.”

  “How is that a solution?” Kastytis asked. The warrior was in a terrible fit, being trapped beneath the earth.

  “Well, you would be held in stasis within the gemstone. You would not need to eat or sleep while sealed.” Solomon explained. “I can leave the seal partly undone so that you can watch my progress but sealed enough that you are numb to what is happening around you.”

  “Sounds fine to me,” Kastytis said. “Anything to get some rest from this unending darkness. It is unnatural for us to be down here.”

  Cortana merely inclined her head in acknowledgement of Solomons’ suggestion. Solomon surrounded them in his power with a smile, pulling each of them into a gemstone. He summoned Morgana in sword form, alone in the darkness, holding her high in the air as a torch. Finally, alone with his thoughts, Solomon wandered bravely into the darkness.

  Solomon ran freely deeper into the cavern; the tunnel descended rapidly, with many twists and turns but few branches. Most creatures he encountered were small rodents or insects feeding on algae, fungus, lichen, and mushrooms. Occasionally a cauldron of bats would swarm around Solomon as he made his way. Rarely encountered were the predators that hunted such prey; they could recognize a stronger predator in Solomon and typically kept their distance. This was particularly true of a group of arachnae warriors who tracked him until he left their coven.

  The exception was a fierce chimera formed from a mole and octopus with mighty claws that could bore quickly through the ground. It weighed easily over seven hundred kilograms and measured over four metres long, not counting the spiny tentacles. The critter came with an angry personality, hissing and spitting acid at Solomon when he wandered across its path.

  Solomon would have left it alone in a different situation, but he wanted to get by the creature. Solomon could sense a handful of humanoid lifeforms just through the nearby wall. He summoned Morgana to hand and lopped off its head, noting that its skin would have deflected most bladed weapons. Solomon then stepped through the nearby wall to be greeted by a party of orcs mining for rare minerals and gemstones.

  The orcs froze in shock at seeing Solomon. Internally, Solomon also reeled from the discovery; he had not expected to run into anyone in the depths – he had expected them to be the arachnae warriors from before. The orcs scrambled for their weapons as Solomon stood calmly. They formed up quickly, armed with spears and mining equipment.

  “Hold friends,” Solomon said carefully. He remained very still, preferring to not incite a fight if it could be avoided. “I am Solomon Dragonstar, exiled from my home and wandering through these tunnels to escape my pursuers. I mean no harm to you.”

  “Solomon,” A burly orc said. “I recognize your name as one soaked in the blood of many. I am Geraldazo, a captain assigned to this small expedition force. While I doubt the likelihood of your intent, I would prefer not to fight as well. Two friends of mine spoke very highly of you; I doubt I would survive the encounter.”

  “Would you lay down your weapons?” Solomon asked, even as he puzzled over the two friends of Geraldazo that apparently knew him.

  “They would not do us any good anyway,” Geraldazo said. “You are a dragonkin mageknight and an avatar for some god.”

  “Indeed I am,” Solomon said. “But how do you know so much?”

  “I am from the city below the encampment that you razed to the ground,” Geraldazo said. “And I knew many of our soldiers who left to hunt you down. Very few returned, most of them driven to insanity.”

  “I am sorry for your loss,” Solomon said.

  “Do not be. We acted quickly and with too little information.” Geraldazo said. “Tiza spoke on your behalf; so did a goblin named Sess. I see you recognize their names.”

  “I do,” Solomon said. “I feared I had killed Tiza in battle.”

  Geraldazo grinned. “When they spoke of the end of the battle, they mentioned that you were toying with them. At least until a friend of yours perished at the hand of a giant. Apparently, you wielded your magic effectively and healed your friend somehow.”

  “I did, and my friend recovered,” Solomon said. “I was a little out of it after that.”

  “We know,” Geraldazo said. “We have marked our maps and sent out messengers to all the nearby settlements, and they are all asked to refrain from engagements with you.”

  “Why?” Solomon asked.

  “It is quite simple, really,” Geraldazo answered. “You could kill us all. Not just a settlement or two, but all of us. And you could likely do it single-handedly. It would take all the tribes to resist you, and we are not organized in a way where such is possible.”

  “I would not seek to purge your people from existence; I am not a genocidal lunatic. At least, I hope I am not one despite the ocean of blood on my hands.” Solomon said. “I liked Tiza; she is a fiery and passionate shaman.”

  “I do not mean to offend you, Solomon, but Tiza is not female,” Geraldazo said awkwardly. “Tiza is not male either. Tiza is Tiza, preferring to be referred to more neutrally. Rather than ‘she’, say ‘they’ are a fiery and passionate shaman.”

  “That is interesting!” Solomon said. “Is that part of your culture?”

  “It is not particularly a part of our culture, no. I would say it stems from our need to be mindful. We have faced a lot of hatred and fear to get to where we are today.” Geraldazo said. “Many humans prefer everything to be neatly organized into a label or box. We try to be more inclusive and exact in our communication. In our culture, the safety of our communities is prioritized to enable people to be themselves. This is particularly true of non-conforming individuals – but criminals are still prosecuted. Many exiled above ground were criminals who had organized their own community of outcasts.”

  “Thank you for sharing this with me,” Solomon said. “I will need to think more about my own identity. Perhaps I will shift from identifying as a ‘he’ to a ‘they’ or similar.”

  “Amongst the humans, you might find that hard going, but I wish you luck,” Geraldazo said. “Language can be a weapon as fine as anything forged by a smith.”

  “Then I shall master it like none other before me, to forge an inclusive and open-minded world that all can travel as freely as I do,” Solomon laughed. “Would you and your expedition members like to join me for a draught of beer?”

  A loud cheer went up as the orcs quickly placed their weapons away, replacing them with large mugs. Geraldazo grinned before accepting the offer. In short order, they were roasting an animal carcass over a fire while drinking the beer with glee. The merriment increased tenfold when Solomon pulled out two full casks of beer from his storage pouch.

  “Oh,” Solomon said, grinning as the orcs’ raised their mugs. “Just so you are aware, you are digging about three meters to the right of a valuable ore deposit.”

  It had been several weeks of solitude for Solomon, with him often wandering aimlessly through the greater under dark. He could sense an exit nearby, but most of his magic failed him. Fresh air traversed the smallest of cracks in the earth. Water seeped and oozed through the ground. Fire wavered towards fresh air, regardless of the source.

  Earth magic would lead one to believe that the tunnels never ended, a confusing maze with no entry and no exit in lightless darkness where neither light nor shadow thrived.

  Yet, he persevered despite all the adversity he faced in the labyrinth. Weaving the elements together with spiritual magic had led Solomon to discover a unique brand of magic, known by his goddess as fate weaving. It touched on time magic yet was ultimately different. Time magic usually dealt with the direct manipulation of the fabric of reality. Fate weaving allowed one to merely read the infinite possibilities to distil the probable.

  Those who had wandered through the tunnels before him and those who would wander by later; both left trails of fate for Solomon to follow. A group of threads told a terrible story of villagers who fled their village and died of starvation beneath the earth. Yet, their threads of fate had not come to pass and could still be changed. And by changing them, Solomon could exit the labyrinth.

  A small stream ran through the cavern, eating deeply of the earth. Solomon followed it up a cliff and around the bend to where a small group of villagers huddled. They argued back and forth about their options but in futility, as no good options remained for them.

  After listening to them for several hours, Solomon decided he had heard enough. He spoke, his voice loud amongst the quiet voices of the villagers as they huddled around their small fire. “Who are all of you?”

  The small child let loose a scream, quickly muffled by her mother. The rest of the party tensed, their fearful eyes desperately searching for Solomon in the shadows. A younger man, likely in his late teens, responded cautiously to the darkness. “That depends on who or what is asking, stranger.”

  “My name is Solomon, an exile. With me are my companions.” Solomon said, entering the light slowly and removing his hood so they could see his face. Their fear was palpable in the air.

  “Where are your companions?” Said a gruff older man. He had seen many winters and weathered them all.

  “I have used my magic to temporarily seal them into a temporal stasis field that...” Solomon started to explain, but seeing their evident confusion, he changed tracks. “That is, I am carrying them within gemstones using magic, and I can summon them forthwith if you would like.”

  “No, thank you, I am afraid we have had enough magic to last us several lifetimes.” Responded the younger fellow. “My name is Kyle, and this is Ben. The child’s name is Sara, and her older sister Brittany is with her. The others are Chad, Fred, Joe, and Sally. You are welcome to join us at our fire.”

  “Do not name us for him,” Ben barked. “He could be the damned necromancer that has cursed us.”

  “Necromancy is forbidden,” Solomon said.

  “What did you get exiled for then, eh?” Ben asked.

  “I killed a few demons, thousands of the fallen races, and a handful of vampires against the wishes of King Nathair,” Solomon said, keeping his voice calm. “I am a dragonkin mageknight.”

  Chuckles greeted Solomons’ proclamation. The quiet laughter slowed to a stop as they realized he was not kidding, and Kyle was the first to break the silence. “Stop joking and tell us why you were exiled.”

  “I am not a joke.” Solomon retorted. “I have had a hell of a time the past few months, leading to me fleeing into this underground labyrinth that brought me here.”

  “But a dragonkin mageknight? That is impossible.” Kyle said. Solomon tapped into his powers briefly, allowing his draconic bloodline to show itself momentarily. Whatever Kyle had been about to say became stammers as Solomons’ eyes glinted and hair faded to silver. Sara uttered a small cry and clutched her sister tightly. “You have made your point; we believe you.”

  “How does such a powerful person come to be in our cave?” Ben whispered.

  “I told you – I was exiled by your demon-worshipping king,” Solomon said, his irritation starting to show. “What can you folks tell me of your situation? I assume the entrance to the cave is not too far from here, given how you are camped out.”

  “You are correct,” Ben said. “The entrance is not far from here, yet we dare not leave even to forage.”

  “Why not?” Solomon asked, tapping his foot impatiently. “Does it have to do with this necromancer that you mentioned?”

  “Yes. Shambling corpses and skeletons are wandering around in the wilderness. They attacked our village in the night.” Kyle said. “Most of the villagers were killed or captured in their assault. At first, we held off their initial push, but our injured quickly succumbed to an unknown illness. We were quickly hardpressed when the fallen rose once more.”

  “The town of Tinyburrow was recently attacked by undead warriors as well,” Solomon said. “It seems fate has guided me here.”

  “What do you mean?” Kyle asked.

  “I can dispatch the undead in the area and rescue any of your friends and family still alive in the village,” Solomon said. “What can you tell me about the area? And the necromancer?”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “The village is a small mining outpost,” Ben explained. “Many families here have lived in the area for several generations, descended from criminals and undesirables that had nowhere left to go. We banded together and made a living by trading with the occasional merchant travelling through the area. The traders take our raw materials in exchange for needed processed goods.”

  “Outside of the village, it is heavily wooded and mountainous. A river and a trail nearby connect the main road with one of King Nathair’s properties.” Kyle said. “It leads north to a monastery on a lake, guarded by a few soldiers who keep an eye on a nearby dwarven settlement.”

  “Why did you not flee to the monastery?” Solomon asked.

  Ben and Kyle exchanged a glance before Ben replied. “They would kill us as soon as we approached. Besides, we have lived through undead raids on our lands before.”

  “Thank you for all the information,” Solomon said, shaking his head in disgust. “ You mentioned a necromancer?”

  “Yes, a dark-robed figure was part of the attack on our village,” Kyle said. “They were slim and wore a cloak that covered their face well.”

  “Is the scary monster-person going to help us?” Sara asked, looking at her older sister. “Will they save mommy?”

  “Hush now,” Brittany said. “She would have been trapped in the inn, and it is improbable that they would have lasted more than a few hours holed up in there.”

  “But will you try to save my mom?” Sara pleaded to Solomon directly.

  “I will visit your village and put your people to rest,” Solomon said, much to the disconcertion of the rest of the group. He picked up a stone and reshaped it with his magic, bewitching it as a magical beacon. He offered it to the group. “If your mother lives, then you might be able to see her again. This stone is magicked to let me contact you once the village is safe if you would like to hold onto it.”

  “I will take it for safekeeping,” Kyle said. “And thanks for the help.”

  “It is better than continuing to wander through the darkness of that underground labyrinth,” Solomon said, waving aside their thanks. “I do not recommend going much further – you will proceed easily enough, but you will quickly find that you cannot backtrack. And down here, there are worse things than the undead.”

  As Solomon carefully crested the top of the hill, he gasped. The village was in ruins, overrun with the undead. About half the town had burned to the ground. The raging fire still smouldered and consumed some zombified villagers into shambling skeletons. A flicker of recent memory froze Solomon in his tracks.

  It was a memory of vampires draining humans of their blood and twisting their human forms into undead servants. Given everything the villagers had mentioned, the vampires likely used this village as a harvesting location, a farm ground of sorts for blood sacrifices, fresh slaves, and newborns. The villagers that had escaped were merely permitted to run; they were needed to rebuild the village and repopulate it. The vampires knew they would likely return to their roots and settle down again. Only a handful of merchants would journey to the mountain village to purchase their ore and swap goods from the cities. Thieves, cutthroats, gamblers, and those with a shadowy past would migrate to this remote community for a fresh start. Even in ruins, the village would provide shelter and look new again with a few months of labour. The inn at the town center was built with stone and wood, making it more resistant to fire and a centrepiece for recovering the village after each dark harvest.

  Solomon enacted a quick life-sense spell. He wanted to check if there were still survivors in the village and help them if he could. He reeled in shock when the magic located several hardy villagers holed up in the inn. The undead clustered around the building, many caught up in makeshift traps and spikes that the villagers had left to barricade the inn. With the height of the inn, the villagers could view the whole village and see a few escape options from the horde. Solomon did a quick count of life signs. He concluded that twelve villagers in the inn were likely taking shifts in four groups to watch for renewed interest from the undead in breaking into the inn.

  Between the two groups, about twenty villagers had survived the dark harvest by the vampires. Solomon estimated a few hundred villagers had lived in the town before the attack. The vampires would have been sure to claim anyone of value to them when they left, so the undead forces below were the unwanted scraps. Similar to the many ruined homes smouldering in the town.

  They would crumble to dust quickly with a few well-placed blows and a spell or two to thin the undead horde. Solomon got up and started walking down from the hilltop. He was quickly spotted by two sentries – one living and one undead.

  The living sentry had been hiding in a nook on the inn’s roof, monitoring the undead and watching for travellers – whether to warn the travellers to flee or use them as a distraction was unclear. Solomon knew many would thank their luck and run, abandoning a traveller to their fate. The movement within the inn spoke of a different story. They were preparing to warn him of the danger or help him escape the area. Four gathered by the inn's door, with four more prepping to defend other ingress points, like windows. Three others joined their colleague on the roof, armed with rough-hewn bows and unlit torches.

  The undead sentry was just a shambling corpse on the edge of the village, near the road. Its actions were far simpler to understand; its motives were much more fundamental. It wanted, no, needed to feed on the flesh of the living. It screamed, a haunting shriek of dark hunger. That one noise clued in the entire undead horde of Solomon’s approach. And the horde surged towards him, slowly at first but quickly gaining momentum.

  Solomon slowed as the undead approached, using his magic to set the ground ablaze. The earth itself seemed to scream as it ruptured, magma flooding forth as Solomon’s magic continued to scorch the area. The undead ran heedlessly into the lava and perished, returned once more to the earth.

  As the initial spell wore off, the handful of remaining undead surrounded Solomon – to no avail. The young warrior simply cut down any that managed to approach him. The undead with greater capacity for intelligence hung back, hiding in the shadows for their chance to strike. Solomon ignored them, preferring instead to meet with those entrapped in the inn. As Solomon approached the inn, a voice from the rooftop shouted out instructions to wait on the road down to him.

  “Welcome, heroic mage!” An archer said from the rooftop. “Give us a moment to open our doors to you – the barricade takes a lot of effort to remove. What brings you here?”

  “I met the kin of this town on my travels,” Solomon answered. “They told me that their village had been cursed, their people have fallen sick and raised as undead. They asked that I put the afflicted to rest and break the curse.”

  “Who did you meet?” The archer asked.

  “Kyle, Ben, Sara, and five others,” Solomon answered cautiously. “They were a small group, ill-prepared to spend too many days in the wilderness. They have taken refuge in some caves connected to the tunnels I was travelling through.”

  “You travelled through the tunnels?” The archer exclaimed. “What drove you to do something so foolhardy as to traverse the labyrinth?”

  “My name is Solomon, an exiled dragonkin mageknight,” Solomon explained. “The king would like my head, so I fled my home. What are you called?”

  “Ryan,” Ryan said, knocking his bow and releasing an arrow into an approaching zombie. “I thought all the dragonkin were dead?”

  “So did King Nathair.” Solomon joked as Ryan dropped down to the ground next to Solomon. “I promised your friends in the caves that I would help put the undead to rest. If you would like, I will share my food and supplies with you first if needed. You look a little faint.”

  “I feel pretty faint,” Ryan said. “We ate most of the food pretty quickly, and there was not much stored in the inn itself. Most of our food was in a storage warehouse outback, next to what remains of the stables.”

  “Any injured?” Solomon asked. “I can use healing magic if needed.”

  “Yes, the village chief – Tanya. She was hurt in an attempt to retrieve our food, something inhuman hurt her badly.” Ryan explained as the barricade opened wide. “We bandaged her external wounds, but something is wrong inside her.”

  “Take me to her. I will heal her if I am able,” Solomon said, entering the inn behind Ryan. He glanced around at the villagers – they flinched away from his gaze. Most had minor injuries and scrapes, Solomon noticed. He waved his hand, healing their wounds without effort.

  “We have her in the cellar. It is a lot cooler down there.” Ryan said. “She felt too warm, almost as if she were burning up inside. Just this way.”

  Ryan led Solomon across the bare main room, the usual inn fixtures and furniture repurposed for various defences. A few stools remained at the bar counter, but otherwise, the room was an empty void. As they approached the corner, Ryan tugged aside a curtain that Solomon had thought hid a window. Instead, it hid a doorway – presumably, they had repurposed the door to reinforce another location.

  “I would not mind running an inn one day,” Solomon thought as he followed Ryan down into the cellar. “It would be fun to train adventures and work with them for the betterment of the local area. Maybe I would even establish it as a guild, with myself as the guild master.”

  Laying his eyes on the village chief, Solomon realized she had been marked by a vampire. Her breathing was laboured, and she was wheezing. Her skin was pale yet burned to the touch as her life energy was expended. It was hard to tell when she would turn – first, she would appear to die, tricking the living into burying her while her transformation finished. Later she would return to feed on them.

  “You can leave me with her,” Solomon told Ryan. The young man needed to leave so Solomon could quietly remove this threat. “This is a lot worse than I was expecting; I will need at least an hour to prepare before I even attempt to heal her. In the meantime, you and the others could cook up a feast?”

  “We do not have any food,” Ryan started to explain. He halted his explanation as Solomon pulled out several loaves of bread, a cluster of root vegetables, and a small wild boar. He smiled at the gift. “We will get it started right away, my lord mage.”

  Solomon waved his thanks as he knelt next to the injured woman. He listened patiently for the curtain as Ryan left the cellar. When the curtain closed, Solomon summoned Morgana to his hand in blade form. He channelled a light stream of healing magic into the woman to wake her. Moment after moment passed as he waited for her to stir. Eventually, his patience was rewarded; the village chief awakened, groggy and feverish.

  “Move slowly,” Solomon said. “I am sorry for the precaution, but I have my blade at your throat.”

  “Why?” Tanya asked, her voice rasping weakly.

  “You are infected with a deadly disease,” Solomon said. “Given time, it will kill you and all the other villages.”

  “Can you help me?” Tanya asked. “Whatever I have is yours; we will do our best to repay you.”

  “There is only one cure for the disease you carry, death followed by incineration,” Solomon said. He noticed the flare of panic in Tanya’s eyes and held up his hand to halt her protest. “You were scratched by a vampire. They must have coated their hands with their blood, causing the infection in you.”

  “But why me?” Tanya said. “I was just trying to get us food when I was struck.”

  “I am just guessing, but I would assume that they targetted you as a strong survivor and leader, or, in other words, an excellent recruit,” Solomon said. “As your fever set in, you likely attacked your friends upstairs as well. They all looked sickly and weary as I entered. A value-added bonus for your vampire attacker… twelve new thralls for one quick strike.”

  “No,” Tanya whispered.

  “Some villagers escaped to the caves near the mine,” Solomon said. “They are the ones that sent me here to do what I can to help recover the village. But for me to help them return to the area….”

  “We all need to die,” Tanya said, finishing the grim thought. “Will you do it?”

  “Yes. And I will look for the vampire that did this to you and ensure they die as well.” Solomon promised. “This tragedy should not occur again. And one day, the village will thrive again.”

  “At least that much hope is offered to us,” Tanya said, closing her eyes weakly. “My family has run this village for generations, ever since the last empress arose to power and outlawed slave trading. We became destitute and fled here – where we experienced the same endless hardship we used to hand out to others. And now I will meet a violent end. It is fitting, yet I resent my death nonetheless.”

  Solomon rapidly slides his sword tip up through her throat and into her brain. The blade flared red momentarily, incinerating the newly made corpse into ash. “And now, you rest eternally. Freed from your resentment.”

  All of them were infected with the vampiric plague and would eventually transition into vampires. With a grimace, Solomon was reminded that he had to kill the other infected villagers quickly. Solomon wandered back into the main inn area while pulling a spice pouch from a magical storage pack on his belt. Spotting Ryan through the kitchen doorway.

  “Ryan, I forgot to give you some spices for the meal,” Solomon said, handing over the pouch. “Tanya is resting but very weak from the healing magic. I will bring her some restorative potions mixed into gruel later. For now, I am going to look around the village.”

  As Solomon glanced around the village from the rooftop of the inn, he paid particular attention to where the undead forces wandered, where they gathered, and where they looked to have originated from.

  “Undead all around,” Solomon muttered to himself. “But most concentrated to the north, towards where the monastery is located.”

  Solomon let his human form ripple as he assumed his dragonkin form. He lept straight into the sky, hovering above the inn. Solomon placed a barrier around the inn and its inhabitants with a quick spell. He then raised another barrier around the wider area. The second barrier was imbued with light magic and immediately began deteriorating all the undead trapped within.

  A vampire in a long robe made of thick wool appeared from the north. They raced towards Solomon, approaching so quickly that they appeared as a blur. Rage and fear twisted the vampires’ facial features beyond possible recognition. Solomon threw a magicked dagger at the vampire – who did not even bother to attempt to dodge. The blade incinerated the vampire upon contact, turning the undead creature into ashes.

  The rest of the undead were faring no better than the nameless vampire who had tried to fight back. The light magic in the barrier weakened the blood and void magic used to create the simple skeletons and zombies.

  Knowing that the only real threat in the area had just been removed, Solomon left the rest of the undead to deteriorate of their own accord. Instead, Solomon wandered back into the kitchen to check on the villagers. As he walked down the stairs, Solomon spotted Ryan. The villager had fallen to the ground and was propped against the wall.

  Spotting him, Ryan spoke first. “Why? Why kill us with poison?”

  “You will not die from the food I gave you,” Solomon said. “The spice pouch was also not poisonous. The worst effect that it has is inebriation or intoxication.”

  “But why then? Why do I feel so sick?” Ryan asked as Solomon looked around the room, checking each villager for signs of movement. “Why would you do this to us?”

  “You are all infected with a dangerous plague that will eventually transform you into a vampire,” Solomon explained. “I have already removed the threat of Tanya transitioning. I gave you the extra ingredient to ease your passing.”

  “You killed Tanya? That’s not very surprising, but disappointing nonetheless,” Ryan said, tears running down his face. “Did she suffer?”

  “Sorry,” Solomon said. “And no, she did not suffer at the end.”

  “What will you do after you murder us?” Ryan asked. “I assume you will end the rest of us while we cannot put up a fight.”

  “I will use my magic to restore the village and surrounding area, then enhance its defences,” Solomon explained. “It will help deter future attacks and make it safe for the villagers near the mining cave to return to the area.”

  “That is something, I guess,” Ryan murmured.

  “Sleep now, as your friends do,” Solomon whispered, drawing a blade. His voice was sad. “It will all be over soon.”

  Looking around, Solomon set to work restoring the village – by using his magic to scan for anything that looked like it would be helpful to the survivors first. He stored the items in his storage dimension for safekeeping. Then he floated into the village’s center and started destroying everything in the area. The remanents of houses burst into shards of wood. The ground rocked and swayed as Solomon’s magic flattened the land and removed everything in the plot that would easily hold a bustling village of up to a thousand residents.

  Once he had flattened the land, Solomon began to use his magic to create a toothed wall of carefully crafted stone surrounding the entire area. The village would have two entrances, one south-facing entrance for travellers from the river. Another in the north for accessing the local mines. He raised the walls eight meters high by three meters across. Solomon added several wooden outposts, ramps, ladders, and barricades. Then felt the massive power drain as a wave of exhaustion hit.

  Solomon sighed heavily. “I am a fool.”

  He let himself shift into his dragonkin form, relishing in the influx of magical power and strength. Solomon began crafting wider main streets throughout the village and smaller side streets to provide alternative routes. Finally, Solomon created a large open square in the centre of the town for events and gatherings.

  “It is a good start,” Solomon said while admiring his work. “Excellent structure and a lot of room for folks to live, work, and play.”

  Next, Solomon created a few key buildings and several stores and booths along the main road. The key buildings included a large inn and a guildhall with a built-in bank and eatery with rooms upstairs for long-term rent and a management office. Using materials from within a storage pouch, Solomon placed a note and instructions in the management office. In addition, a dozen large homes were interspersed to the east and west of the main street.

  Solomon granted them two gifts to ensure the town would never disappear from the map as a final touch to the village. The first was a gift of water. Using his magic, Solomon created wells throughout the town using the pressure from the river. So furious was the current that he could develop fountains along the main road and irrigation canals along the road that encircled the village within the wall. The abundance of water would ease their everyday life. But the villagers had water before and still struggled. Therein Solomon granted them a second gift, this time of food. Various fruit and nut trees sprouted in abundance throughout the outer ring of the village.

  Solomon paused to admire his work from the sky. Then, he noticed that the undead had left a trail from the northeast through the forest. Even in the early twilight, the path looked easy to follow, with the torn-up earth marking the way.

  “Kyle, can you hear me?” Solomon asked, sending his energy towards the beacon he had left with the small group of escapees. A small glowing orb formed and floated nearby. “I have fulfilled my promise; the village is safe for you to return to now.”

  “Thank you, Solomon.” Kyle’s voice radiated from the orb. “Are there any other survivors?”

  “No,” Solomon said, his voice guarded. “But I have eliminated the threats in the area and rebuilt the village defences. I think your group will appreciate the changes to your home.”

  “You are truly a hero, Solomon,” Kyle said. “We will head there now.”

  The orb dissipated as Solomon released the magic, emotions in turmoil. He was neither a hero nor a murderer; he had done what he had felt right at the moment, what he had believed was necessary. Still, it did not make him feel any better as he floated above the rebuilt village in the sky.

  Solomon shook his head to clear his thoughts. With the villagers alerted that their village was restored, Solomon had one more action to ensure their safety. He would need to track down the vampires that were using the village as a harvesting location – and hopefully find Elessa, leader of the vampire coven that assaulted Lord Ulric’s lands.