Land of Salvania

  Crow dreamed he was looking in a mirror. An old man looked back. His face was similar to Crow's, but he looked ancient and tired. The old man spoke a strange foreign language, but Crow could still understand scattered bits of it. "...and when the <foreign word> is open upon the midnight, beware the <foreign word> that will spring forth to rend." "I don't understand your words, uncle," Crow said, adding the honorific "uncle" as a courtesy. "Heed me, boy," the old face said. "You will be asked to <foreign word> upon the midnight when the <foreign word> opens. You must act with great courage and remember to <string of foreign words> lest you die without awakening." Crow shook his head, knowing this was crucial information. "I cannot heed you, uncle. I do not understand." The old man looked annoyed. "Ask Ritter. He may know." Then the dream was over. Crow crawled out of hi

Elzalore tossed and moaned in his sleep. He was young again, maybe 14. He was a starving boy during the siege, trapped behind the duke's walls for months while the enemy outside stopped any chance of relief.  He had been roaming the streets at night, mad with hunger. He had become a senseless animal, driven only by the need to survive. He was a scrawny, dirty, growling thing. He prowled the empty shopping district, just one of many places he checked each night. He looked under baskets and found human skulls gleaming white in the torchlight. He looked under stacks of bloody rugs and found bones. Finally, he reached a distant part of the market. Somehow, he knew this was off limits. Dangerous. He stopped, tense and coiled like a cat deciding to leap. Maybe there was food back there. Had he ever looked? No. Or had he? He wasn’t sure. He heard a small noise behind a stall. Was someone there ahead of him? Was someone taking his food? That was enough. He rushed forward, h