Jaroc the Illustrious High Wizard of Garantil lifted the Phoenix quill feather still smouldering, from the ground. The knights on the ground were either dead or nearly there from the sticky smell of burned flesh, contained within the small canyon.
It will be back for the nest, Jaroc considered his plan D, or in the Wizard alphabet his plan XF, the nearest value to the magical fourth symbol, representing unnatural death, and disorder. Jaroc wrapped the quill in a water soaked rag then sealed it in a glass vial, which he melted and sealed. With it safely encased, he put in into his satchel and pulled out his spell book.
“Terrible omens from unnatural death can only mitigated by new birth,” he flipped through the pages and found a spell. He thought through the process of the spell focused on a small seed pouch. One sprouted, and then two more.
Jaroc walked to the edge of the platform and planted the seeds in the soil nearby, still focusing on the spell. Each knight was wrapped with vines reaching out from the ground where he planted the seeds. One by one, the vines dragged each knight until there was nothing but five pod where five knights had died. Jaroc continued to focus on the spell, his arms taught, his hands clammy, and his eyes stung from the sweat dripping into his eyes. There was something wrong. A wound in the soil crept along the plants like black mold.
“No, I need them back!” Jaroc shouted.