Kael followed the armored man deeper into the forest, his mind running in circles. Are these people friends? Or enemies? He didn't know. The only thing he knew for sure was that if he spoke carelessly, they would notice something was wrong.
Soon, they stepped into a small clearing. Four people were gathered around a fire. Two men and two women. They looked tired but alert, their clothes dusty, axes and short swords by their sides. When they saw Kael, all of them froze.
One of the women dropped the piece of wood she had been cutting.
"Kael?! No… it can't be…"
The taller man narrowed his eyes, stepping closer.
"I don't understand. How are you alive after being grabbed by the Beast Bear?"
Kael stiffened. Beast Bear?
The man's voice grew sharper.
"That thing should have killed you. Nobody survives it."
Kael swallowed hard, trying to sound calm.
"I… I don't know what you're talking about."
The man looked at him strangely. "What do you mean you don't know?"
Kael shook his head slowly. "I… can't recognize what you're saying. Everything is… blank."
The group exchanged worried glances. Then the tall man sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Maybe that makes sense. Let me remind you."
He sat down on a fallen log, his eyes darkening as he spoke.
"The Beast Bear is no ordinary animal. It's huge — bigger than a horse. Its fur is dark brown, almost black, and its eyes glow red… bloody red. That monster comes every three days. Always at night. It drags off a man or woman from the villages around here for food. Nobody who gets taken ever comes back."
One of the women shivered, hugging her arms. "It's like a curse. Every family has lost someone."
The tall man looked back at Kael.
"That night, when we all went into the forest to bring wood for cooking, the Beast Bear appeared. We barely managed to escape. But… you weren't so lucky."
Kael's chest tightened. "What happened to me?"
The man's eyes softened.
"The Beast Bear hit you. Its palm is like a rock, heavy enough to crush bones. It struck your head. We thought you were dead. I guess you survived, but maybe you lost your memories."
Kael lowered his gaze, letting silence cover him. He couldn't admit the truth — that he wasn't the Kael they knew.
The man gave him a firm pat on the shoulder.
"Don't take pressure on your mind. Memories might return with time. For now, just rest. Your family… they already think you're dead. It's time we take you home."
The fire crackled between them, the forest whispering in the background. Kael clenched his fists quietly.
Family. A village. A monster that hunts every three days. This world is already cruel. But if I'm really Kael Draven now… then I'll survive it. Somehow.
He nodded slowly, forcing a small smile.
"Alright. Let's go."
And with that, Kael followed them, carrying questions that only time would answer.
The road to the house felt longer than it should have. Kael walked ahead of the others, his steps slower with every turn. He didn't admit it out loud, but inside he was curious. What kind of woman raised the old Kael Draven? What would she say if she saw me now?
The house stood quiet at the edge of the village. Its door was half-open, creaking in the wind. Kael stopped. Something was wrong. There was no sound — no fire crackling, no old woman humming to herself. Just silence.
The others noticed too. One of them whispered, "It's too quiet…"
Kael pushed the door gently and stepped inside.
The smell hit him first — heavy, metallic. His eyes moved across the room. Chairs overturned. A broken cup on the floor. And then, in the hall, he saw her.
An old woman lay on the ground. His… Kael's mother.
Her body was broken, struck down by a sword. The sight made everyone freeze in shock. No one spoke. The silence felt heavier now, pressing on their chests.
Kael's breath caught. I don't know her… but he did.
Suddenly, memories that were not his flashed in his mind — laughter by the fire, warm soup on cold nights, her hand resting on his shoulder after long training, her voice saying, "You're my boy, Kael. Never forget that."
The wave of memories nearly brought him to his knees. He had never lived them, yet they hit him as if he had. His throat tightened, and his hand shook as he stepped closer.
Then he noticed it. A piece of parchment on the ground beside her body.
He picked it up. The writing was sharp, every stroke deliberate, as if carved with a blade instead of ink. The words read:
"Your family is gone. Now it's your turn.
— Your best rival, Okatu."
The tone was cold, without pity, without hesitation. Not a threat shouted in anger — but a sentence delivered by a killer who had already decided the end.
The others looked at Kael, waiting for him to speak. One of them whispered, "Who is Okatu?"
Kael's grip tightened on the note. The name carried weight in his chest, like a memory half-buried. He could almost feel the shadow of a man standing across from him, blade in hand, eyes full of hate.
Kael's voice came low and steady, sharper than steel.
"Okatu isn't just a rival. He's a man who leaves no one alive when he sets his mark."
The group stayed silent. Fear crept into their faces.
Kael folded the note carefully, not tearing it, not crushing it. He slid it inside his cloak as if storing a promise. His eyes moved back to the body of the old woman. For a moment, his jaw trembled, but then he forced himself still.
Inside, his mind whispered, This wasn't my mother… but it feels like she was. He took her from me before I even had the chance to know her.
He turned toward the others, his voice colder than before.
"Okatu wants me to break. He wants me to run. But if he's watching… let him know this."
Kael's eyes hardened.
"I will find him. And when I do, he will learn that killing an assassin's family is not the end of the story. It's the beginning."
The house was quiet again, but not the same silence as before. Now it was filled with something heavier — Kael's promise, sharp and dangerous.