A night had just passed. It was the time that lay between night and day. The sky was pale blue and interspersed with grey clouds. The very thick clouds that covered the sky made the land appear darkened. It was not too dark to speak of night, but dark enough to make out the horizon dimly.

The grasses were still damp, and the cold wind that came with last night's rain whistled through the tips of the grasses in the wilderness. The stifling silence made it possible to hear the whistling wind better as it travelled all the way from west to north. People hardly crossed into that area. They thought it to be dangerous based on its history. In the north country the reliefs were predominant, and among the great variety there was one that stood highest of all. It lay far beyond all lands in the north. In a wilderness that lay far to the north.

This wilderness had long been isolated from man, and even after the disappearance of the Kranians, man had refused to occupy the land, as the wolves had made it their habitat after the mysterious disappearance of the tribe. In this wilderness was an elevation on the surface of the earth. It rose high into the sky, and standing on its summit, one could clearly see Metrá, the nearest village. This was the hill that rose above all others in the land, even those in the lands far away from it.

Behold, KIN HILL.

Most of the mountain was rocky with little vegetation. There was wet sand that had turned to mud from the previous night's rain, and it remained that way until that time of day. The soft sand had been completely crushed and had formed a gentle slope that reached deep into the forest surrounding the hill.

At the top of the hill stood a being, perhaps human, perhaps not. Perhaps it had once been a human, but had changed into something else. Maybe it had been something else, but had evolved into a human. Or maybe it was both, or neither. Some of its features, most, were those of a normal human, but some were of the wild.

His back was riddled with massively built muscles. His biceps were well defined and his chest was extremely thick. Whatever or whoever it was, it had the shape of a man. It was muscular and large. Its ears were pointed and each had seven rings on them. Rings made of heavy metal that could have torn the flesh of a normal man's ear. They were special rings that could only be worn by special people.

The strangest feature of all was the eyes. His eyes were more than strange and required special attention. His eyeballs were like those of a snake, and shivers would run down the spine of anyone who caught sight of them. They were bright and shone in an amazing way, emitting a strong red light that could attract the attention of someone standing far in the distance.

The rest of the facial features matched those of a man. A well-shaped nose, mouth and eyebrows. He had long hair that fell down his bare back. The hair was all covered with mud and had a supernatural texture. His face was broad, and his jawline was as pronounced as his cheekbones.

On his forehead was a tattoo of a burning skull and above it the inscription "KUTAGI," a word written in the original kraí dialect meaning to defy the laws of nature. This was no ordinary tattoo, and the glow showed that the being who wore it was filled and strengthened by strong, dark magic.

The skull glowed like a flame, and even in the twilight this was significant. What if it had been night? Then the mark would have glowed like a colony of fireflies adorning his forehead. The flow of magic in his body strengthened him as the mark continued to glow.

He had worn no clothes, his feet were not in boots or sandals. He was naked, but clad in damp sand or wild mud. His dense skin could not have been affected by the cold that covered the whole land. The cold could have frozen any naked person to death in a place like this. The north was generally the coldest region in the world, but along the region, from Metrá to Kinhill - with the most relief - was the coldest place in the world.

He knelt on one knee in the centre of the circle marked with the blood of the dead wolf lying next to him. The grey wolf was completely drained of blood and the claw marks on his neck were from the man kneeling in front of him. His claws had not only killed it, but also disfigured its body.

The wolf seemed to have run into the wild man who was at the top of the hill as it fled from the huntress's flying arrows. The huntress chased the wolf into the snares of the wild man on top of the hill.

He opened his right hand, and his claws stuck out like those of a wild cat about to devour its prey. The Innocent Wolf would rather have been killed by the huntress's arrow than by those claws, which were as sharp as a sword. The damage they did was definitely greater than the damage an arrow could have done, and there was no way to escape their grip.

He clenched his fingers into a fist and extended the finger next to his thumb. His eyes continued to glow red, as did the tattoo on his forehead.

With one finger, he drew something in the sand in front of him while reciting a spell.

MONOLOGUE

"Bàsras dicai unt caros michahi"

[As I stride to my course.]

Dûr legàn airos... betah dro posesus tahadi airos gegi kera,

[The air in my lungs is poison to the air of this world]

Dûr legàn thrahe noka dicai clu'un desertá,

[Let the earth on which I kneel feel my absence].

Dûr legàn retà cataga dicai kindrà mehatar sco'età,

[Let the water from which I drink be blind to my intention].

Dûr legàn erfé mri bantà agaron taka, [Let the fire in my hand be a weapon].

Dûr legàn roú yitra gi hukè kera, daku watafi muzaka al hartâ mri K'hue kera,

[May the four elements of this world fall away from me during my days in this world].

The last word he spoke marked the last part of his drawing. It was a drawing of a crescent moon. He scratched the drawing out of the sand with his claws, this time with both hands.

He kept digging until he unearthed one end of a rope. His expression was one of contempt. He was satisfied to know that what he had done earlier had produced the expected result.

It was covered with mud. The rope was strong and looked as if it had been woven from several small ropes. It was not alone underground. It was connected to something still underground. He kept digging. His claws cut through the rocks as if they were made of butter, and he felt no pain.

He dug until he reached a certain point, then he stopped. He dipped his hands into the hole in the ground in front of him and pulled something out. It was a crescent-shaped pendant. It was made of silver, but the dirt obscured the inscription on its back. He spat on it and used his saliva to clean it from the mud. And when he was done, he saw the name scrawled on the silver back. "Psychís!" he shouted.

"Dûr legàn haki bija rehaba, nel ni, nel Kar, lav dreh mé kaló"

[May this day be remembered, not only now, but forever].

"Marhar, dim cartana! Mé nou, ek tahala he màt con letí"

[The time has come, and soon it will be as it once was]

His voice was rough, deep and terrible enough to make anyone shiver. His voice echoed over the hill and even down the slopes. He stood up with the pendant in his hand. He carried it by the ropes around his neck, and ropes sank into the mud that covered his neck.

Lera bi segaha!

[That's it!]

He shouted from the top of the hill, and his voice echoed through the wilderness. The cold air around him whistled past the hilltop, kicking up sand around him. The sand swirled around him and surrounded him in a circle drawn with blood. He sat down next to the dead wolf, which was already decomposing, and devoured it. He ate, and he exhaled.

What came out of his mouth was like mist. It was black and thick, and it was fast. It was poison. In fact, the air in his lungs was poison to the air of the world he had just crawled into, and the poisoned air parted and began to travel, leaving the hill and travelling to all four lands.