Miles away from Luca, up near the Bellowing Mountains, on top of the highest mountain peak overlooking the Bunish moors, there was a darkness that covered the ground. Onto this ground stepped some horses—three, to be exact, and sitting upon them were three riders, one with white hair, the other with red, and the last with solid black. They stared out into the distance, overlooking the parade of students and the peoples of Esterra. The men stood breathing in an irregular manner, as if each breath were forced. They waited silently, for it was not their time.
But before the three could retreat back into the darkness in which they came from, a dark rider crept up behind them, forcing the three to split apart, letting the presence through to the front. The rider was smaller than the rest, and he sat on a black horse and wore a blood-red cloak, and underneath the cloak, the rider wore an armor of the same color, but magnificently glimmering in contrast to the cloak. The hood of the cloak covered most of the rider’s armored helm except for one small part, the armored plate that covered the mouth area.
The armored plate was elaborately painted with a drawing of a mouth with closed lips, but in a matter of seconds, the plate flipped, disappearing to the left, and from the right, another painted plate appeared in its stead, one with a drawing of an open mouth showing off a pair of saber teeth covered in blood and spit.
The rider reached inside his cloak and pulled out a medium-sized bag that seemed to have been moving, as if it bound something inside it. The rider pulled the bag up near its head. “Bring him to us,” the rider in red said, and he untied the top of the bag, releasing its content onto the ground. It was a creature of some sort. As it fell to the ground, the small beast was quickly consumed by the tall blades of grass, and it speedily made its way towards the festivities down below.