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Worst of all, no matter how hard Sudryl searched, he could find no one. No remains of the dead, and no sign of survivors. He was devastated, all hope of helping his village with his knowledge of Earth Magicks swallowed by the silence of Heldrath.

Some short time was spent there, searching for signs of survivors and assailants alike, paying respects to those families lost in the tragedy. It was as he was readying to leave for the nearest village for answers that he was met with the shrouded form of the only other survivor of Heldrath. She had been a young thing when Sudryl had seen her last, now grown into a proper young elvish woman. By her tale, she had barely escaped the blaze with a small number of children from the town, only to be caught at the edge of the fields. They had run, but hadn’t gotten far enough away before they were taken down by twisted creatures made of bone and shadow. She wouldn’t have survived, save for that she had made it to the river that fed the irrigation, and was swept downstream to one of the other villages.

Necromancers, she had said. Whether they had been sent there specifically, or had been a rogue wandering band she couldn’t say, but she had seen them raise the first of their defenders from the grounds where they had been slain.

The two of them banded together to find these Necromancers and end their destructive path before it cost anymore their families. They had no way to deal with the Necromancers save for physical weapons and Sudryl’s magic, but they were still young and filled with the boiling blood of revenge. So long as their enemies paid the price for their actions, they cared little of what happened to their own lives. They did find the Necromancers, too, a small camp nestled in a grove of trees, surrounded by their risen minions. It was a fight they couldn’t hope to win. Not only were their loved ones amongst the army of monstrosities, but the Necromancers also had creatures that could rend flesh with ease. Sudryl had been warned of their venom, but had cared little for it. He knew he wouldn’t survive the fight, but would rather take the lot of them with him. So he fought like it was his last sunrise, doing all he could do draw most of the attention onto himself and away from his companion, who had only a bow with which to defend herself.

The outcome was as expected. No matter how many they cut down, more came behind them, each crushed, punctured, or broken body raised to continue the onslaught. The Necromancers had seemingly endless energy, and a seemingly endless supply of minions; Sudryl, however, tired quickly, and was set upon by the twisted shadow beasts, their teeth ripping into his right arm. It was a searing, terrible pain like he had never felt, but hurt far less than the sound of his companion’s screams as she, too, was set upon. A burst of energy brought the earth to his call, and he managed to free himself, but it was too late. She was too far away, had no armour or magic.

Alone, and without any hope of avenging his village, Sudryl reached for a desperate answer. A power he had read about in the city. It was dangerous. It was forbidden. It required Sacrifice. But what did he have left to lose? It wouldn’t matter what he sacrificed, because he knew he wouldn’t survive the spell. Even if he did, he doubted he would make it to safety in his condition. So he took the risk; because if he didn’t, who would? His arm, mangled and pulsing with the shadows’ venom, was his sacrifice. He called for the power to amplify his own magic, tearing a hole into the very earth to swallow everything within the grove. Trees, Necromancers, and minions alike. Everything crumbled into the chasm, screams, shouts, and growls echoing up the sheer walls.

Just as Sudryl had thought to follow the rest of his family into the darkness, the earth groaned and ground, together sealing itself back over its victims. A cry of surprise and anguish escaped him as he collapsed to the barren earth, realizing that, for whatever reason, the earth had spared him the rest of his sacrifice.

His body gave out, and it wasn’t until days later that he regained consciousness. Travelers had felt the quake and gone out to search for the source and any damage that might have been left behind. All they found was Sudryl, passed out in an empty field and soaked in his own blood. They took him in and treated him, but even with such kindness, he could not tell them what had happened. In fact, he refused to speak at all, and was gone once he regained his strength.

From that point on, Sudryl took the chance given him and learned to further harness his power, as well as learning to use more than just magic as a means of defense. He found the Knights of Longhorn many years later, after earning himself the title The Silver Wight, and sought a place within their ranks. The reasoning behind this was never given, other than that he wanted to protect those that needed protecting. Penance, perhaps. Or to further his revenge.