The large spacious room was lit by one candle which was flickering and throwing shadows across the walls. Beside the candle was an old rocking chair, and in the chair was an elderly man, gently rocking forward and back.

The man, about 65, had pure white hair and small beady eyes like a rat. He had lived alone most of his life which made him cold and bitter inside. The old man’s figure was hunched over a black leather bound book. The book was old and worn, obviously well used. The man started to speak, very softly at first, then getting louder. It sounded as though he were speaking some kind of foreign language. His voice, now at a yell, suddenly stopped, and a blinding light lit the room, chasing out all darkness in the room. The man stood, picked up the candle, and blew it out. The man was about 6 foot in height and wore strange black robes with golden runes sewn into it. He started towards the front door and with a wave of his hand, mysteriously opened the door, and waved it closed behind him. Outside it was cold and dark. The man lived about 3km outside of the small village in a large secluded forest. It only took the man 25 minutes to reach the village. The village people thought of him as one of the devils children, or a sorcerer. The reason they thought this because of what he wore, and how he lived alone in the forest. Everyone who had tried to go looking for his house in the Great Forest mysteriously went missing. Some thought they just got lost, seeing as it is a very large forest, the more superstitious said it was the man; Alcazard, who took them to use in his Black Magic. The man made his way to a small cottage; he could see candle light shining through the pane windows and hear happy children inside playing. Once at the front door, he reached into his robes and pulled out his large, black leather bound book, searched for a page, and once found, started reading from it. “Arkan. Valla. Meltum. Dehr!” the small cottage suddenly burst into flame. The man stood watching with a small smile of satisfaction on his face as the house burnt to the ground. Evil. Deadly. Ruthless.

“This is the fourth house that’s been burnt to the ground this week. Wonder who’s been doing it.” said Sargent Blator, staring at the charcoal rubble of the house. Blator was a short, red faced man with a thick moustache and dark brown hair.

“Who do you think could have done it sarg?” asked captain Greywood, a strong, but very slow witted man.

“I reckon it was that blasted sorcerer who done it, that’s wot I reckon.” Said another lower officer.

“Nobody knows if he is real or not.” Sargent Blator explained.

“What about that old man that lives by ‘imself in the woods? He seems like the kinda guy were lookin’ for. He always wears black robes that are covered in gold pictures. Put a pointy hat on the fellow and you got you a sorcerer lookin’ man.” Greywood stated.

“I reckon you might be right there Cap’n. Where in that blasted forest does he live? Well go ask him some questions we will.” Blator said.

“He lives just inside the Great forest he does.” Said Greywood.

“Well let’s go.” Blator and Greywood collected their badges and their batons and went to the man’s house.

Greywood and Blator had been walking for 40 minutes on a small game track and eventually came to a clearing. In the clearing there was an old weather worn house which had one window that had a thick curtain covering it. The door, black and menacing, stood in the middle of the house. Sargent Blator knocked 3 times on the door and waited for an answer. Nobody did. So he tried again with the same result. Blator looked at Greywood and nodded. They were going in. Blator twisted the round door knob and pushed. The door squeaking very eerily of rusted metal hinges. The room was dark inside. Greywood moved towards the window and drew the thick curtain, light poured through, lighting the room and revealing a large bookcase that covered most of the back wall. It was filled with books such as ‘Black Magic’ and ‘Conjuring Demons’. “It’s him! I told you so! I told ya, I did!” exclaimed Greywood.

“Yes, but where is he now? Where is Alcazard?” the light of the door was suddenly blocked out by a tall black clad figure.

“So, you’ve found my secret Sargent Blator. I’ve been waiting many years for this to happen.” Said the figure in the door.

“Alcazard! You’re under arrest for murder and burning down houses!” yelled Greywood, his voice cracking as he did so.

“Oh, I think not, Captain Greywood. You both know you cannot take me with you. You will both leave here, now, and tell nobody what you know. Or you will die.” Said Alcazard coolly. “We will not leave unless you come with us.” Explained Blator.
 

“So be it.” And Alcazard pulled his sword back, over his shoulder, to his back and heaved it at Blator. The blade caught him in the chest, throwing him against the wall and the blade catching in the wooden wall. Blator was breathing ragged breaths. With a massive effort, Blator lifted his hands to the blade of the sword, and slowly pulled the sword out of the wall and out of his chest. Alcazard was stunned by how Blator had done this. “How? How did you do this, you are nothing but a human!” cried Alcazard.“I am no human, Alcazard. And you should have known this, those bodied with their throats torn out, that were left by your door, I left them.” Said Blator, and suddenly doubled over in pain, his bones were changing, becoming bigger, his body growing a thick coat of fur, his teeth growing longer and ending in sharp points, his nose growing into a large dog snout, his hands growing longer and growing large, sharp nails. Blator stood back up, and let out a loud growl. “You know you cannot defeat me you overgrown dog.” Said Alcazard letting out a snicker.“You are right; we will meet again sometime soon. I will be waiting.” Growled Blator, and with that he leaped through the roof, dust showering down out of the hole, and let out a blood curdling howl.