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PROLOGUE Twilight fast approached the sleepy land of Robor. An intense bitter frost drove itself hastily across the southern most quarter, kissing all that it came into contact with and leaving behind a feeling of unease. A heavy wind whipped its way across the rolling hills, inside the deep valleys and through the dense forests, its icy claws clutching at the dense foliage and vegetation as it swept past.        A glowing maroon sunset slashed through the sky. The flaming reds and oranges replaced the dark inky canvas that usually stretched across the heavens. The sight was unnerving, unsettling, and the residents of Robor were closing their doors and locking themselves away at the very sight. Nothing good can ever come from something so extraordinary.       In the tiny village of Grey Hill, however, old man Geoffrey opened the front door to his cottage and placed a fat, coffee-coloured tabby cat on his stone doorstep.       "Here we are, Tabby," the old man wheezed, stroking his white moustache and inhaling a deep breath of cool misty air. The cat meowed loudly and fled through the old man's legs, scurrying back into the house the moment his small paws touched the ground. Old man Geoffrey watched the cats retreat and scratched his head in bewilderment, looking around the village for any signs of misgiving, a dog perhaps in the shadows, but he found himself to be quite alone.       "Tabby?" The old man's voice called, "it's just the sunset, Tabby." He looked around again, but only the harsh wind upset the dusk. He shrugged his shoulders and let out a heavy breath, which fogged the air in a swirling white vortex in front of his face. As he looked around the village, it occurred to him that every resident along the cobbled street had locked themselves inside and closed their curtains, hoping to veil themselves from the unnatural scarlet glow that graced the sky. The folk of Robor had a tendency to shy away from anything remotely out of the ordinary, choosing instead to turn a blind eye to what, quite clearly to Geoffrey, was magic.       A biting wind pressed against him, chilling his face and persuading him to follow in the neighbour's footsteps. He turned to make his way back towards the door, now quite eager to go back inside to the warmth of the grate. He stepped inside and gently pushed the door shut behind him, but something in the corner of his eye made him freeze as the lock was about to click. He opened the door a sliver and begrudgingly took a second look.       His eyes settled upon the sky, and he felt powerless to look away. He opened the door fully and heard a loud meow from behind him as the wind forced itself into the cottage. He moved like a moth to a flame, his steps taking him out of his front door, down his garden path, onto the cobbled street and into the night. Above everything, the first strange thought that struck old man Geoffrey was how cold his feet were. He pulled his eyes away from the sky and down to his blue slippers, which were now damp and held a layer of newly formed ice crystals, and found they did nothing to shield his feet from the frost.       He stopped walking and dared a peek upwards into the heavens once more, hoping this time that the creature would have somehow vanished from sight, that old man Geoffrey had just gotten too tired and imagined it all.       His eyes widened and he gasped, the wind forcing cold air into his lungs. He clutched at his chest and tore his brown eyes away from the sky before marching back up the cobbled street to his front door, and slamming it behind him without so much as a backwards glance. Once inside, he walked, mesmerised, along the frayed rug towards his tired armchair. Tabby padded into the room and sat by old man Geoffrey for a time. Eventually, the cat let out a small meow and curled up to sleep.       After a period, and a much-needed glass of scotch, Geoffrey drew the conclusion that a long day had taken its toll, for legend had taught him that the creature he thought he saw beating its wings against the crimson sun, had been extinct for thousands of years.