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Torsten bent down and moved his hands over the dead body of a Gior. The body glowed momentarily and immediately all the swarmers scattered and disappeared. Sighing, Torsten stood up.

He hated these angels of death, these swarmers. Except, they were not exactly angels. Torsten thought they were more of accomplices, turning up wherever death took place. They attacked not only the body, making sure it was not nature that would rot it, but also attacked the surroundings. Torsten sadly gazed at ruins. The grass had turned black, the flowers had fallen and the leaves had curled up and turned brown. He looked back at the beast at his feet. Alive, it was the most feared by the animals. Two big horns jutting out of its forehead, teeth made to rip and tear, and soft fur of shiny golden colour, now it lay in its most degraded state. Since he found the body in its early stage, the swarmers had not done too much damage. The skull was already visible and patches of fur had fallen.

Knowing that his magic was powerful enough to stop future assault by swarmers, Torsten continued his journey deeper into the woods, away from the clearing. Sometimes, he could not stop wondering at the marvel of these creatures. Smaller in size than half the width of his fingers, they manage to do damage of the highest extent.

Knowing the dangers he had to face in the future, Torsten's ultimate fear had never changed… to die without his magic and to be left behind for the swarmers.