Chapter One: The Boy in the Snow
The road was a sheet of white silence, broken only by the faint tremor of a boy's frail body as he lay sprawled across the snow. The winter wind clawed at his skin like hungry knives, each gust stealing more of his breath, more of his strength. He tried to inhale, but the air burned like glass in his lungs.
His crimson eyes—unnatural, glinting like frozen blood—stared up at the ink-black sky. Snowflakes fell slowly, as if time itself had slowed to watch his last moments.
*Am I really going to die like this? Is this how my story ends?*
In the distance, warm light spilled from a house, laughter and music drifting into the night. It was Christmas—a night of warmth, of family. But for him, it would be the night he vanished, swallowed by cold and darkness, forgotten by the world.
His vision wavered. The stars blurred.
And then, a shadow fell across him.
A tall figure loomed against the snowy backdrop—a man dressed in a long, dark coat, his face hidden behind a smooth, expressionless mask. The man's presence was unsettling, like a storm waiting to break.
"Do you want to live or die?" the masked man asked, his voice calm but carrying a weight that sank deep into the boy's bones.
The boy's lips trembled. His body felt leaden, each breath a losing battle. But somewhere, buried under fear and pain, something refused to let go.
"I… want to live," he whispered.
Darkness consumed him.
When his eyes opened again, the world had changed. Warmth enveloped him like a forgotten dream. Sunlight spilled through a small, frost-laced window. He was wrapped in thick blankets, his wet, ragged clothes replaced with clean, dry ones. The air smelled faintly of herbs and firewood.
He shifted slightly, wincing at the lingering ache in his body. Beside the window sat the masked man, silent and still, his presence as sharp as a blade. Snow drifted lazily outside, yet inside, the silence felt heavier than before.
The boy swallowed, his throat dry and raw. "Why… why did you save me?"
The man didn't turn. His gaze remained fixed on the falling snow, as though he hadn't heard.
The boy tried again. "How long have I been here?"
"Two days," the man finally answered, his tone as cold and precise as the winter air.
Before the boy could ask more, a sharp *knock* shattered the quiet. The man's posture shifted instantly, like a predator sensing danger.
"Hide," he ordered, his voice low but commanding.
The boy didn't question him. Something in that voice left no room for hesitation. He scrambled under the bed, his heart pounding so hard it hurt.
The door creaked open.
Two men stepped inside, their heavy boots thudding on the wooden floor. Their cloaks were damp with melting snow, their faces grim and sharp.
"Have you seen a boy?" one of them demanded. "White hair. Red eyes."
The masked man leaned back in his chair, as if bored. "What happened?"
"That boy is a demon child," the other man spat, his voice thick with contempt. "He's the one who burned down the orphanage and the church. Dozens are dead because of him."
Under the bed, the boy's breath caught.
*Demon child?* His mind reeled. *They're talking about me?*
The masked man's voice remained steady, unshaken. "I haven't seen anyone."
The two strangers exchanged doubtful glances. One stepped closer. "If you do, report it immediately. He's dangerous. The priest is offering a reward for his capture."
The boy's fists clenched. *The priest…* A shiver tore through him as memories clawed their way back—screams, flames, the taste of smoke and hatred.
When the door finally closed, silence returned, heavy and suffocating. The boy crawled out, his small hands trembling.
"Why… why didn't you tell them?" he asked, his voice breaking.
The masked man turned to him. Behind that mask, his face was unreadable.
"Because I don't believe in judging someone without knowing the truth." His tone was calm but edged with something deeper. "Now… tell me what really happened."
The boy's vision blurred as tears threatened to spill. He couldn't stop the words from trembling out.
"I… I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I don't even know what I am. All I know is that they look at me like I'm a monster."
The man studied him in silence for a long moment, the firelight dancing across his mask.
"Then perhaps it's time," the man said finally, "to find out who you really are."
A pause. A weight in the air.
"But first, you must stay hidden. The world isn't ready to understand you yet."
The boy nodded, his chest tight. Something inside him stirred—a mixture of fear, hope, and something darker.
And so, his journey began. Not just to survive…
but to uncover the truth about what he truly was.
Was he a demon?
Or something far more dangerous?
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