The night was quiet over the Black Mage Village. Shadows stretched across the curved rooftops of small huts, each carved from stone and enchanted wood, glimmering faintly with the faint residue of magic that pulsed from within. The village itself was secluded, tucked away in a forested valley that kept most travelers away, and for good reason: it had never been meant for ordinary life. These were constructs of magic, beings of thought and feeling, yet their existence was tethered to the fragile flame of the energy that sustained them.
For most of their existence, the Black Mages went about their tasks in routine: preparing minor enchantments for their work, maintaining the village, tending to the modest gardens where magical herbs grew, and practicing controlled spells in the training yard. They were creatures of focus, aware that their time was limited, yet within that limitation they found the strength to be more than the sum of their magical parts.
That evening, a ripple of tension ran through the village as the sky seemed to shimmer unnaturally. From above, Sirius descended, moving silently among the trees and settling atop a low branch of the largest oak that overlooked the village square. His presence was immediately noticed, though most Black Mages could not have described how; they only felt it—a pressure, a warmth, and an understanding that was both foreign and comforting. Panic rippled through the villagers.
The mages stirred nervously, their eyes flicking to each other, hands twitching with the instinctive readiness to defend themselves. No one had seen a visitor like this before. No one had ever come to them openly and unmasked.
"Who…?" a voice quivered from below. The mages shuffled and muttered among themselves, fear sharpening their instincts.
Sirius raised his hands slowly, palms open and clearly empty. "I mean you no harm," he called down, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of authority. "I have come to speak with you, and only to offer guidance."
Still, the mages hesitated. Panic was not so easily subdued, even with words. From the back of the square, one mage stepped forward: a construct marked as 288. He was older in the sense of experience, his eyes carrying the awareness of time, a melancholy sharpened by the understanding of how short his life might be.
"What do you want?" 288 asked, his tone wary but controlled.
"I know what you are," Sirius replied, his eyes meeting the mage's without flinching. "And I know your time is limited."
A shadow crossed 288's features. "Ah… yes. Our lifespan… it is short. We exist, and then we fade."
Sirius inclined his head slightly, a gesture of understanding. "I can help you… to live longer than you have yet imagined."
288's eyes widened slightly, a mix of hope and skepticism crossing his features. "Really? There must be a catch."
"Yes," Sirius said calmly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You are perceptive."
"And?" 288 asked, his voice cautious, almost holding itself in check.
"Someone… like you," Sirius said, "and his party will come into this village soon. One Black Mage and three humans. After that, the mage will speak with you about the span of your life. It is an event you must understand for what comes next."
The black mage blinked, taking in Sirius's words. "And… what is my role in this?"
Sirius lowered his hand and produced a small, unassuming trinket. Its surface glimmered faintly in the dim light, the aura around it radiating a subtle warmth. "This is for you to give to him," Sirius said, extending the trinket toward 288. "Consider it a good luck charm. Carry it safely, and pass it to the one who comes. It will guide him, though not in ways you yet understand."
288 hesitated, reaching out to take the trinket. The moment his fingers brushed it, a faint pulse of energy thrummed through him, a wave of awareness that was at once comforting and invigorating. "This… is no ordinary trinket," he whispered, marveling at the latent magic within it. He looked at Sirius, then at the human form standing just behind him, and nodded in understanding.
Sirius lowered himself slightly to meet the mage's gaze. "My name is Sirius," he said quietly, allowing the weight of it to settle into the room, into the very air of the village. "Remember it. You will need it when the time comes."
Then, as though sharing a secret with the wind, he raised his right hand and gestured across the village. A subtle warmth spread outward, passing through the rooftops, along the paths, and into the hearts of every Black Mage present. Fear ebbed, replaced with a sense of calm and reassurance that had not existed before.
"What…?" 288 whispered, his voice trembling.
"I have given you a gift," Sirius said, his tone firm yet gentle. "A reprieve… though brief. You and your fellow mages will now have the chance to experience a year more of vitality, to prepare, to thrive in ways that were once beyond your reach."
The mages' eyes widened in unison as the energy passed through them. Their movements felt lighter, their bodies and magical constructs resonated with renewed strength. They felt their vitality extend, not indefinitely, but long enough to inspire gratitude and hope.
288 felt tears sting his eyes, and for the first time in memory, he allowed himself to express the depth of his emotion. "Thank you…" he murmured, voice breaking, "thank you for giving us… this chance."
Sirius inclined his head, observing silently as the energy settled and the village returned to a state of calm. He looked upon them as one would observe seedlings after the first rain, understanding their potential and the fragility that accompanied it.
The trinket pulsed once more in 288's hands, a faint reminder of the connection between the coming visitor and those who would guide him. Though no names were spoken, the mage understood the importance of the object and the promise it held. He would keep it safe, and he would ensure it was delivered as instructed.
As Sirius faded into the shadows, the village erupted in celebration. It was quiet at first, restrained, a small flicker of joy in a community accustomed to the awareness of impermanence. Then laughter and light footsteps echoed across the village square, as Black Mages practiced minor spells, igniting sparks of magic that danced harmlessly in the air. They moved faster, with more purpose, their hearts lighter than they had been in months.
288 stood among them, holding the trinket close, understanding that even in this small gesture, the threads of destiny had shifted. The other mages glanced at him curiously, sensing a change in the air. Something had altered their very existence, an invisible hand that had given them a measure of time they could not have claimed for themselves.
Night deepened, and 288 found a quiet corner near the village's edge. He sat alone, holding the trinket and feeling its soft pulse. The weight of the world seemed lighter, but not absent. Soon, he would speak with the visitor who would arrive—the one who would bring three humans with him. And in that moment, the discussions of lifespan, mortality, and purpose would find their place in the small, enchanted village.
Above, hidden among the shadows of the tallest trees, Sirius observed one last time. His presence was subtle, barely more than a ripple in the magical currents that surrounded the village. "Soon," he whispered, voice carried only by the wind. "Soon, you will meet them. And the world will be ready for what comes next."
The mages slept that night with an unusual comfort, dreams lighter, their minds less burdened by the creeping knowledge of their finite existence. When the first light of dawn brushed across the village, they awoke with renewed vigor, moving among their huts with purpose and energy. For the first time in a long while, the Black Mage Village felt truly alive—not merely as constructs powered by fading magic, but as beings with hope, with meaning, and with the opportunity to shape the moments that remained.
288 approached a small garden, the trinket tucked carefully into a satchel. He knew he would need it for the visitor who would come with companions. He understood that time was fleeting, but now it carried with it a promise. The Black Mage's heart swelled, a warmth that came not from magic alone, but from the certainty that someone beyond their world cared, and that their lives had value, even if only for a year more.
As the sun rose fully over the horizon, illuminating the forested peaks that cradled the village, the Black Mages moved in unison, their laughter mingling with the wind. It was a rare moment of joy, fragile and precious, but it would become the foundation for the connections that were to come. And somewhere, just beyond the edge of perception, Sirius watched, ensuring that each pulse of magic, each heartbeat, and each step toward destiny was observed and guided.
The village had been given a gift, subtle yet profound. And though the specifics of what lay ahead were hidden, one thing was certain: the coming visitor, the one with the three companions, would be welcomed into a village already touched by hope, ready to learn, ready to grow, and ready to face the challenges that waited beyond their world.