In a small room that was neat and tidy, a man sat hunched over a book set on a table. His shoulder jabbed out of the white robe he was wearing, giving the impression that he was very thin.
The curious thing about the room wasn’t only the man but that the whole place, except for the table and chair the man was using, was covered in thick layers of dust.
From the bookshelves in one corner to the picture hanging on the walls—everything was covered in dust and cobwebs.
The man seemed to be reading the book in front of him, but his hands were limp on the table, his body frozen like that of the dead.
Then, suddenly, he jerked. A simple, sharp movement of the shoulder, then stillness again. It was as if he had returned to his dormant state, but his awareness filled the room.
He jerked again, and this time, he raised his head.
He had no face. Where his eyes, nose, and mouth should have been was smooth flesh. The only thing that broke the smoothness was a green jewel set between his eyes on his forehead.
He tilted his head. "Oh? What is this? It’s familiar, but that’s impossible. It’s impossible!"
His voice came from the direction where his mouth should be.
He stood there like a stone, completely still, as if he were made from rock. Then he jerked again and sat up. "This aura... it can’t be. Wandering Death? He’s finally strong enough to make a move?"
A laugh filled the room. "No. It’s not yet time. He can’t be strong enough. Then what is this? It’s weak, but it’s there. He’s back!"
Wonder and awe filled his voice, as if he couldn’t believe what he was feeling. "What is he up to?"
The man stood, and his joints creaked and groaned, snapping as he used them again after so many years. He closed the book he was holding and snapped his fingers.
He had no shadow before, but suddenly, his shadows were outlined in the room as if drawn with red ink. He had three shadows, and none of them looked like him.
He snapped his fingers again, impatiently this time. "Come out here, you bird, or I’ll eat you!"
One of his shadows lengthened, then ripped free of him, twisting and turning into a bird that filled the whole room with its multicolored feathers.
A bald head hung down—it was an old female’s head with a black beak. She glared at the faceless man. "You bastard! You come back after all this time, and you start yapping about eating me?"
The man snorted. "So you haven’t changed your attitude one bit. You know, an undead summon should know to obey her master."
The bird-woman huffed, and her feathers spilled more lights of different colors. "Of course I’ll obey you, master. When have I ever disobeyed you?"
The man didn’t say anything. Instead, he gestured with his right hand. "Come quick. We have somewhere to be."
There was impatience in his voice, and the bird-woman didn’t argue anymore. Instead, she spread her feathers as much as she could in the small room and wrapped them around the man.
The multicolored glow on her feathers twisted and turned before collapsing into itself, taking the two of them with it. In a whirlwind of feathers, they disappeared into thin air.
Above the Shadowwood, a ripple formed in the air, and something twisted out. It was a giant bird with a wingspan of a few meters. Its feathers, which looked like metal, glowed with different lights.
"What do you want here in this backward place?" the bird-woman said.
"You fool! When will you stop referring to the Old West as a backward place?" Atop the bird stood a human without a face.
"Just the Old West? All of this place is backward! If not for your master settling here and pushing the monsters back, who knows what this place would have turned into?" There were hints of admiration in the old bird’s voice.
The man was silent for a while as he surveyed the forest below. "My master... he wasn’t the only one who pushed back against the Shades, you know."
When monsters start gaining more intelligence and acquiring more power, they are known as Shades.
The old woman snorted and flew slowly. Each flap of her wings was enough to propel them a great distance, but even then, she deliberately slowed as if she knew what the man wanted without him saying anything. "Your master was an old monster."
"Was?" the man said with a chuckle. "I suppose so."
The sun was high in the sky, and even then, the old woman didn’t cast any shadows on the forest below. They flew lazily around as if looking for a needle in a haystack.
From above, the Shadowwood spread as far as their eyes could see. But they were not flying deeper in. Instead, they flew toward the edge.
It was there that the man seemed to find what he was looking for.
A boy and a girl were sitting under a big tree, a fire between them as they roasted some kind of meat.
"Oh? Is this what you’re looking for? But there’s nothing special about them!" The old woman narrowed her eyes, and her perception spread forward, enveloping the area where the two sat.
But even with them directly above, the two did not know that someone was looking down on them or sensing them out.
The bird-woman shuddered. "The girl... she has the same potential you had when you were but a hatchling!"
"I was never a hatchling," the man said absently.
The bird-woman continued speaking. "But the boy... what is this? A freak?!"
Her voice ended in a screech. "What is this monstrous Sigil? It can’t be! Even you... your master! Impossible."
The skin on the man’s face stretched as if he were smiling. "I know. I know."
The wings shrugged. "But that’s not why you’re here. His Sigil is special, but then what? The world is big. There are countless specialties. Why are you here?"