Adrian stared at the carved words "Save her" etched into the wooden desk, shocked.
"This wasn't here before," he thought. He ran his fingers over the letters. The grooves were fresh, with slight splintering.
"Who do I need to save?... Who.. Did this?" he started to worry.
"Adrian?" Evelyn's voice broke the silence behind him.
He turned slightly, seeing her standing in the doorway. "Are you coming?" he hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah.. I'm coming," he gave a last look at the desk, the words stayed burned in his mind.
He touched the desk once more—not to confirm the words were real, but to feel something solid in a moment that didn't make sense.
He turned and followed her out. At the party, people from the other village were drinking and dancing. Grandpa John played cards with his coworker at a rickety table, a hot hostess sitting on his lap, cursing under his breath with each loss. Adrian stood by the fence with Evelyn. His mind wasn't in the present; the figure and the carved letter kept crossing his mind.
Evelyn, still clenching her dress, pulled Adrian's shirt. He snapped back to reality. "Adrian.. how long do we have to be here?" she asked, eyes anxious, voice barely above a whisper. "Not long," he replied.
People passing by stared at Evelyn, whispering to one another. Evelyn felt it. "They're staring at me.. I hate it," she thought to herself.
Adrian noticed Evelyn was uncomfortable and grabbed her hands. "I'm right here," he said, slightly smiling.
Just then, Elisa June made her entrance in her elegant dress with her Mother, Elena June. Everyone wished her a happy birthday and gave her gifts.
She thanked everyone. She then noticed Adrian standing by the fence, and their eyes met. She immediately turned away, her ears reddened.
Adrian slightly raised his eyebrows, confused. "She looked away fast. Was she blushing? No, probably not. Why would she?" he thought.
Elisa sat beside her mother, still a little flustered. Elena looked around and saw Grandpa John drinking with a hostess and playing cards. "Even on a day like this, that old geezer never changed." She murmured, slightly annoyed.
Suddenly, someone approached Elisa, the narrow eyes shadowed by his Bowler hat. She turned to see him. "Happy birthday, Elisa. My name is Xavier. Son of the mayor of Cinncove," he said, extending a hand.
Elisa was a little uncomfortable with the odd smile he had on his face. But she eventually shook his hand, thanking him.
"I have something special... prepared just for you," he said, that same odd smile never fading. He handed her a small box. She noticed a three-digit number on the top, "001," she murmured.
She tried to open it, but couldn't. "It won't open," she said. "Don't try to force it. It's not that kind of gift," he replied, still with that odd smile. "It'll open when it wants to."
He stepped back. "Happy birthday, Elisa." He added, then turned and walked away without another word, blending into the crowd like he'd never been there.
She stared at the box, blinking, unsure whether to be weirded out or... concerned.
Then it hit them.
An immense presence, cold and heavy, rippled through the air like a pressure wave. Elisa gripped the box tightly, her breath caught.
It wasn't just her, but the entire crowd. The music faltered. Conversations quieted. Laughter died off mid-breath. From the village gates, they entered.
Figures in long, dark robes and leather boots. Their boots clacked sharply against the cobblestone. Emblems of Izuwan shimmered faintly on their chests—black steel shaped like a dragon swallowing a sword. Eyes hidden behind masks or hoods.
Behind them walked a tall woman in a long black coat, blood-red eyes visible under her hood. Chief Enforcer Seraphine
Elena stood immediately. "Thank you for coming," she said with a polite nod. "Mhm mm," Seraphine replied.
"Well shit," Grandpa John muttered, raising his beer, "If I knew I'd see a face that hideous today, I would've begged death to take me this morning."
A few people chuckled, others gasped under their breath. Elena turned sharply, shocked. She immediately bowed her head and apologized to Seraphine, "My deepest apologies, Chief Seraphine. Please excuse his actions, he acts like that when he's drunk."
Seraphine just walked past her. She didn't even glance at John. She sat down at a nearby table, calm and composed. Her blood-red eyes half-lidded, she rested her chin on her fist. "Worry not, I'm here for the party only," she said
"Yeah, right." Grandpa John muttered, just loud enough for Seraphine to hear. Elena yanked him by the arm and pulled him aside. "What do you think you're doing?" she hissed.
Adrian glanced at them arguing in the distance. Then he turned toward Seraphine. She was already looking at him. A chill crawled down his back. "Her eyes... does she wanna stab me?" he thought, sweat rolled down his face.
Seraphine's gaze didn't waver. "That kid.. I can feel it. His body is filled with shining energy," she thought, her eyes narrowed. "And Kael.. his scent is on him."
Adrian looked away, but his thoughts didn't follow. Seraphine had stared at him like she was trying to peel something off his skin. And Evelyn, nothing had gone wrong, not even once. No spilled drink, no broken shoes, and no accident.
His grip on Evelyn slightly tightened. Those words on the desk, the man in a hoodie, Seraphine looking at him, and the fact that nothing had gone wrong for Evelyn made him anxious. "Why has nothing gone wrong?" He thought.
Evelyn looked at him, her voice soft but worried, "Adrian?" He flinched slightly when Evelyn spoke. He looked at her worried face. For a second, he hated the thought that something could be hiding behind this quiet.
"I'm fine," He lied, smiling. Just then, a sharp, whistling sound pierced the air. "SHHHK—!" A blade flew past Evelyn's cheek by an inch and aimed directly at Adrian. His eyes widened. Time slowed.
"Adrian!!" Evelyn screamed his name. Then, everything went black.
Somewhere in a mountain far from Eldermere, a figure sat on the edge of the cliff, a large black dog beside him. Below them, waves crashed against the jagged rocks far beneath. An endless ocean stretching into the storm.
His feet dangled over the drop, black boots tapping lightly against the stone. Rainwater dripped from his black hair, gently swaying in the wind, along with his long, dark coat.
He wore no shirt beneath, his bare chest and abs lined with scars. Some light, some deep. He wore fitted white dress pants, cleanly pressed and tapered down to his ankles, with a silver chain hanging from the side.
He sharpened his blade with a whetstone, and a distant flash of lightning lit the steel. Etched into the metal, barely visible, but carved deep, Aven Oxer.
The dog suddenly barked, "Is it time?" Aven asked, looking at his reflection through the blade. The dog barked again, sharper this time. He slowly got up and threw the whetstone in the ocean. "Let's go then," he said, his tired eyes sharpened.