(Kisaya POV)
My footsteps echoed sharply against the stone floor as I moved quickly, my heartbeat accelerating with each step. Laris walked quietly behind me, clearly sensing my tension but choosing wisely to remain silent.
We reached Enki's temple, air thick with incense, herbs, and whispers. Everything felt oppressive.
"Captain" the nurse greeted softly, eyes cautious.
"He just woke up. When we found him… barely had any blood left. He's still in a fragile state, honestly, I'm surprised he's conscious at all."
I nodded.
"It won't take long" I said. "He'll rest after."
I entered the healing chamber. Beds lined both sides, some holding wounded men wrapped in silence and bandages. The smell of herbs was even stronger now. Sunlight filtered in, catching the rows of oil jars and reflecting softly off the copper tools beside them.
No one needed to tell me which one he was. The ointment on his neck caught the light—subtle, but enough.
He lay pale, nearly drained of color. His cracked lips trembled. Weak. Almost lost.
But alive.
I stood at the foot of his bed.
"Can you speak?"
He stirred. A flicker of movement, barely more than a breath. Then his eyes opened, unfocused at first, blinking against the light.
Confusion came first. Then tension.
Fear bloomed behind his eyes.
His gaze darted across the room until it landed on me. And then—recognition.
The tension in his shoulders eased. His breath steadied, just slightly.
He knew he was safe.
"I know you're hurt" I said, voice steady. "And I know it's not easy. But I need you to tell me exactly what happened."
"If we don't stop whatever did this, someone else dies next."
"Help me stop it."
He swallowed thickly, mouth working to form words, trembling with effort.
"It was night" he murmured, almost to himself. "It was a calm one. Quiet. The kind that makes you believe nothing's wrong."
His fingers curled against the edge of the cot, knuckles white. He didn't look at me.
"Some of us were already settling down. We'd finished eating. A few were joking, nothing loud."
He swallowed. His voice caught for a second.
"Then it came. A scream. Gods…" His face twitched. "It didn't even sound human. I mean… it did, but not fully."
He blinked rapidly, like trying to stay in the present.
"We grabbed weapons, of course. Torches. I don't even think anyone gave the order—we just moved. Followed the sound. It wasn't far."
His hands trembled slightly now, the tremor running up into his shoulders.
"Then we saw it" he murmured, voice catching. "Just… standing there.."
He swallowed hard.
"It was holding someone."
He closed his eyes for a moment.
"But when it turned… it let her fall. Just let her slide out of its arms like she was nothing. A rag. And I knew then—she was already gone."
"There was blood. On its mouth. On its chin. Still fresh."
His voice trembled.
I said nothing. Let him keep going.
"It looked almost human. Almost. The shape, the limbs—it wore clothes, or what was left of them. Soaked in… something. Maybe blood. Maybe worse. Its hair was long, black. But the hands…"
His lips quivered.
"At first, I thought they were just hands. But the fingers… they ended in claws."
He finally looked at me.
"But the worst was the eyes. I… I still see them when I close mine. They weren't glowing. They weren't even angry. Just… red. Like embers that never go out. Alive, but cold. Not rage. Hunger."
My breath caught.
"Then it moved" he said, voice lower now, raw. "We didn't even see it happen. It was just there—then it wasn't. One of the guards screamed, and he was already off the ground. In the thing's grip like a doll."
"It bit him."
He said it like a curse.
"It bit him in the neck and drank. Drank like it had never tasted anything better. And the look in its eyes while it did…"
He stopped, breathing in sharply through his nose, fighting not to shake harder.
"We fought. Gods, we tried. One of us stabbed it, right between the shoulders. I saw the blade sink in, saw it twist. But it just turned. Calm. Unbothered. The wound sealed before the blood even touched the floor."
The tension settled in my shoulders.
"It wasn't a fight. It was a slaughter. It was fast, too fast. One of us screamed, then there was blood. Another turned to run and his head hit the ground before his feet even moved."
"And when it reached me, I… I couldn't do anything. I tried to lift my arms. I swear I did. But my body wouldn't listen."
He was trembling now, his whole body unsteady, as if his muscles no longer trusted the ground beneath him.
"I felt it grab me. Its breath—hot, the kind of heat you feel when you're too close to fire. I tried to shout. Nothing came out. And then the bite…"
He stared past me, hollow.
"It wasn't pain. It was... something else. Like something being pulled out of me. Not just blood."
I leaned forward slightly. "Do you know why it didn't kill you?"
He shook his head, slow and uncertain.
"No. Everything just… blurred. My legs gave out. I hit the ground. Couldn't move. Couldn't feel anything. And then... it all went black."
A pause.
"For a while, I thought I was dead."
"Part of me still does."
My body tensed with something sharper than fear—focus. Purpose.
The need to move.
To act.
To hunt.
Everything in me was already turning toward what came next. But I knew better than to rush blind.
This thing—whatever it was—had strength. Speed. Regeneration. That alone made it dangerous. But was it alone? Or just the first?
If it stayed loose, free, we'd lose more than patrols. It was a problem. A threat.
One we hadn't planned for.
"Rest" I said, not turning back. "Forget this nightmare if you can."
The words felt useless. But I said them anyway.
I turned, eyes landing on Laris, already waiting. Before leaving, I gave the nurse a small nod.
Then I stepped out.
Laris walked behind me in silence.
Why was he left alive?
We entered my office. The door closed behind us with a hard snap.
I sat down and tapped my finger on the desk. Sending more soldiers or Chosen would be pointless. It'd be like handing bodies to a predator.
No. This needed something else.
A knock pulled me out of my thoughts.
"Come in" I said.
A messenger stepped inside. He handed me a clay tablet without a word. I took it, read quickly.
"The new creature must be dealt with immediately. You are authorized to take personal action."
My pulse kicked harder. The weight of the words hit clean and clear. My edict responded.
I pressed my fingers to my forehead and let out a slow breath, the corners of my mouth lifting. The tablet cracked between my hands.
"Perfect" I muttered.
Then, lower, more to myself than anyone else:
"Just don't be too weak."