The First Spark

The scent of woodsmoke and freshly baked bread usually brought a smile to Robby’s lips, a comforting anchor in this new life. Oakhaven was a village that had embraced him, its people a stark contrast to the cowering masses he once commanded. Here, laughter echoed through the cobbled streets, children chased stray dogs, and the elders shared stories under the shade of ancient oaks. It was a haven, a testament to the peace he so desperately craved. He’d spent weeks here, helping with harvests, mending fences, and simply enjoying the quiet rhythm of existence, all the while keeping his true nature a closely guarded secret.

But today, the familiar scent of woodsmoke was tainted by an acrid tang of fear. A sudden, chilling silence had fallen over Oakhaven. The vibrant sounds of life had been abruptly extinguished, replaced by a low, guttural rumble that vibrated through the very earth. Robby, who had been sketching by the riverbank, felt a prickle of dread crawl up his spine. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in centuries, a primal warning that something terrible was afoot.

He rose, his movements fluid and silent, and made his way towards the village. The sight that greeted him stole the breath from his lungs. Dark, hulking figures, clad in obsidian armor that seemed to absorb the very light, were systematically tearing Oakhaven apart. Their armor bore the crest of Emmatos, a stylized serpent coiled around a broken crown. A cold, familiar hatred, not his own but echoing from a distant past, stirred within him.