Who doesn't like oneshots? [ON HOLD]

The Son Of Night

Dark shadows covered the little village, and thousands of lights lit up in the night like eyes of a huge monster. Wind was blowing through the streets, playing with pieces of paper and wood chips. Not a sound, not a human being outside. Cows and pigs looked around themselves nervously, for even they understood what was going on. Sheeps were bleating silently, begging their owners to leg them inside. Horses and the most valuable animals were safely locked in wooden houses, away from the horrors of the night.

There was one house that was special, though. People from the village preferred to stay away from it, mumbling things about the wizard that lived there. They said he could sent a plague on their home with one word. With one gesture, he could order clouds to rain for a week. Human emotions and feelings submitted to this man, he controlled them.

The old wizard was slowly walking around his house, the wooden planks in the floor creaking silently whenever he stepped on them. Every once in a while he would look at his open window in hope, then sigh sadly and avert his gaze.

Thousands of bottles were standing on the shelves in his house, some of them containing powder, others - liquid. There were even ones that were keeping inside a bug or a sleeping snake. Herbs and plants were hanging from the ceiling, and their scent made everyone in the house feel sleepy. Everyone apart from the wizard, that is. He had gone native to that scent a long time ago. If anything, it was making his blood boil with adrenaline.

He paced towards his table and swiftly brushed his forefinger up a candle. It lit up and the small flame danced on it, sending weird shadows in every corner of the room. The old man just sighed and turned a page of the book in front of him, a book so old that it could easily crumble in dust if anyone touched it in a wrong way.

"Dryadis, numenis..." He mumbled, and the words were impossible to understand. The language was so old that even the world itself had forgotten about it. The wizard was the only one who could speak it now, the only one who carried the knowledge of the Creation.

It was obvious that he couldn't care less about his looks. In his long black beird spiders made a nest. His long hair, as black as the darkness itself, weren't combed well. If one looked at them for too long they would get a feeling they are looking at the night sky which had lost all the stars. But nothing, nothing could be compared to looking in the eyes of this man for at least a second.

His eyes resembled sockets on a human skull. So old and empty of any emotion, they glared at every person without difference. It seemed like this man knew everything there was to know about every person. Woven out of strings of the time itself, he was patiently observing the life fly by, so many worries on his mind that anybody else would've died.

"You're late." He announced grimly, looking at the pages of his book. His fingers traced some sort of a symbol on the table, as if trying to carve it in. A small black creature landed on his shoulder, its wings folded by its sides and squeaked something.

The wizard raised his head and stared at the wall in front of him. Then nodded and waved the creature away. It obediently left his shoulder and found itself a shelter under one of the shelves to hang upside-down.

Old man walked towards the chest and, grumbling, opened it. Then took out a simple white shirt that was way too small for him. Then grabbed a pair of brown pants and some shoes, throwing all of those clothes in a special bag. Lastly, he moved towards the window and looked at the dark sky.

The full moon gave so much light that it felt like the streets turned into glowing rivers. The fields were filled with those flowers that never bloom during the day, and their cold light mixed with the glow of the moon. The wizard sighed and made a weird gesture in the air. A prayer to the spirits. A plead.