Brom was young, only sixteen when his brother Bort was murdered. Brom thought back over the last ten years... the gypsies had visited the town that year. Bort had received a single gold crown on his twentieth birthday and had waited for three months to spend it at the carnival. When the carnival had finally arrived, Brom was excited; his brother Bort had promised to take him along.

They had arrived early, before the sun had fully risen and the carnival was not yet open for business. A tall, gaunt man was standing outside the gates as well, just off to their left. He looked to be watching the animals move around as the began to prepare for a long day of performing.

The man slowly turned to face the brothers, he was wearing a dark black robe that hid every part of his body. The hood was pulled down so low that it completely obscured the man's face. All but the twin flames which seemed to burn where the man's eyes should have been.