An old warrior rides a horse on a path in the forest. The warrior had medium length hair that had a few gray strands half of it tied up into a bun, he had a scruffy beard and many scars but the most unique thing about his appearance is his golden eyes that glowed in the shadows. His outfit consisted of many layers of clothing: a coat and armor underneath, he had; gloves, a fur shawl, a gray scarf, a leather belt that carried little trinkets and he carried two swords one on his back and the other he held ready to fight.
He was tasked to head to the capital to talk to the council. He needed to pass by
town to rest because it was getting dark.
He noticed something in the distance, smoke. It was coming from the village he was headed to. He headed there as fast as he could. The cold wind through his hair, the sunset reminding him that he needed to get there before darkness took over.
He arrived, too late to save anyone... He walked around the burned and destroyed town to see if he could spot any survivors. He looked under fallen debris, barely standing houses and in every alley and corner. There was nothing left but bodies of the people who lived there. Until he heard something, someone. He followed the sound until he saw a silhouette kneeling on the ground Surrounded by runes and magic. The warrior grabbed his sword, anger and rage filled his body for this could be the cause of the terror. He ran to the silhouette with all the energy he had left, until the creature turned around before the warrior could kill it.
It was a child.