As his three chocobos tromped through thick underbrush, pulling his large wagon, Milton couldn’t help but remember the warning he had received from another travelling merchant: Never travel through the Mysidiaian woods at night. During the day, everything was fine, but at night things came out. Things from the ground. From the Earth.

Milton pushed the thoughts out of his mind. Vague warnings from competing merchants weren’t his concern. Market Day in Mysidia, however, was. Most of the wizards of Mysidia were ridiculously wealthy, and spent that money on items that were even more ridiculous in nature. What was junk to most everyone else the wizards prized more than gold. Dirty rocks, dead bugs, and old books could be sold to them for premium. Every week there was a Market Day in the center of Mysidia, and merchants from all over the globe made it a point to attend at least once a month. Those who got there first got more of the gold. This time, Milton was going to be the very first to arrive. He figured that he’d reach Mysidia by dawn, while most of the rest would start showing up at mid-morning or noon. He’d have nearly half the day and all the wizards to himself.

That is, if he could find his way back onto the path.

Cursing to himself he urged his chocobos on faster. The sky was black with thunder-clouds, and if it started to rain he wanted to be sure to be back on the path. A flicker of lightening briefly illuminated the surrounding forest, but offered little help. The trees and underbrush were to thick to see very far in broad daylight, let alone at night.

Milton yawned and let the reins on the birds go slack a little. He was going to be very tired by daylight. But, when he did get a chance to sleep next, he would be much wealthier than now.

The thought of riches excited Milton, and he sat up straight and tightened the reins on the slowing chocobos. When they failed to respond, he gave them a slight whip. Instead of speeding up, the birds came to a stop, and stamped at the ground, trying to back up.

"Come on!" called Milton, whiping the birds some more. "Get a move on!"

The three chocobos froze. Their heads cocked slightly to one side, and still they remained. Milton looked around. All he could hear was a breeze pushing through the branches of the trees, nothing else.

"Let’s go now, come on." He tried urging the birds on. Stupid things. They were starting to make him nervous.

And then, with nothing more than a gasp from each, all three of them collapsed to the ground.

What in the realm?… Milton stood slightly to get a look at his chocobo. They were lying in a heap on the ground, unmoving. Panic began to creep into Milton’s mind, and he began to look frantically around his wagon. He pulled his club from it’s hiding place under his seat, and itched his nose. What was that smell?

It smelled of rotting death.

In the meager light of his torch, Milton thought he saw something move. Slowly, ever so slowly, he thought he could see some people walking towards him. People! Relief filled his insides and he cried out.

"Thank the Crystals! I thought I was alone out here!"

The figures didn’t respond. One finally stepped into the light of his torch.

Milton screamed. Standing in front of the fallen chocobos were four beings of rotting flesh. Zombies. Milton scrambled from his seat and onto the back of his wagon, attempting to flee, but he stopped when he saw four more of the creatures standing behind it.

"What – what do you want!?"

Milton was shaking. The zombies halted their advance just inside the circle of torchlight and they looked at Milton with sunken eyes. Their sickly green skin was molted brown in places, and hung off them as if they could fall apart at any moment.

Milton began wheezing uncontrollably and he began riffling through his goods to be sold to the wizards. It was purely an act of panic. He thought maybe, somehow, something in the cache of assorted trinkets and tomes he had for the wizards would be of some help against the undead. All he had to do was find it, and use it, and --…

The torch!

Milton knew he wasn’t worldly other than matters concerning money and greed, but he did know that the undead feared fire. The realization gave Milton a sudden burst of confidence. The things likely hadn’t advanced on the wagon further because of the torchlight! As long as he had the torch, he should be safe!

He paused for a moment to gain control of his shakes and breathing. He managed to become slightly more calm, even though he was still terrified. However, with his bolstered spirit he managed to stand and move back to the front of the wagon, trying not to look at the undead that surrounded him. He sat down beside the torch and wrapped his arms around himself for comfort. All he had to do was wait until dawn and the creatures would retreat. Then, he could find help. His chocobos were killed somehow, he figured, by the zombies, so he’d have to forget about Market Day. That would hurt his income for the month.

And as Milton pondered his chances for getting some profit for the next day, a crash of thunder pounded through the sky. Rain began to fall.

xxxxxx

Milon bowed before the great Golbez once again.

"You see, my Lord, it had begun to rain. The fire went out and the zombies descended upon Milton. He was killed, of course, and his flesh served as meal to the monsters. But, there’s more to this tale.

"One of the ancient texts that that fool Milton had recovered was actually very special. Yes, it was a book of Necromancy, a Book of the Undead. When Milton’s blood touched the pages of the book… well… I was born."

Golbez nodded slowly. Milon continued.

"Yes, the book was what attracted the zombie’s to Milton in the first place. Normally my pets don’t venture far from Mount Ordeals, at least they never used to. But when I was born from the Book of the Undead I was able to command them. They are mine. They do my bidding! I may not be as strong as your other Fiends, but I have my monsters."

Golbez remained quiet. It almost seemed as if he were waiting for something. Finally, he spoke.

"Very well Milon. I grant you the status of the elemental Fiend of Earth. I am running short on time. The position needs to be filled. Don’t disappoint me."

Milon cackled to himself.

"Oh, of course not my Lord. I would never dream of it…"

Golbez extended his right hand out, pointing at the diminutive Milon. A power far greater than Milon had ever felt suddenly coursed through him. It was as if some distant force had strengthened him with darkness.

"Milon, you have been endowed with one of the most powerful forces in this realm. The power of hate."

"I will use it well, my Lord!" He hissed and laughed all at the same time. "And once again I thank thee!"

A shrill hiss echoed the chamber as Milon shrank into the ground, and disappeared.