The forest behind him groaned as if it held a secret it could no longer bury.
Reve walked silently, each step heavier than the last. The blade at his side no longer hummed, but it hadn't gone silent either. It pulsed—softly—like it was breathing.
The village lights shimmered faintly in the distance. Smoke curled from chimneys, and night had begun to settle over the world like a tired god's blanket.
As he stepped into the small home, Arel jumped into his arms.
"Big bro! You're back!" the little boy chirped, wiping his nose with his sleeve.
Mina peeked around the corner, her face lit up. "We saved you the last piece of bread!"
Reve smiled. It was small and tired—but it was real. He ruffled Arel's hair and gave Mina a quick pat on the head.
"I'm home," he whispered.
From the shadows, the old man watched. He didn't say anything at first, but his eyes narrowed ever so slightly at the blade Reve carried.
Later that night, after the children were asleep, Reve sat alone, the sword by his side. Its silence now felt… thoughtful. Like it was waiting.
The old man joined him again, this time carrying a steaming cup of tea.
"You didn't bring that sword with you yesterday," he said casually, taking a slow sip.
Reve froze. "Found it... in the woods."
The old man didn't reply. He only looked at the boy—at the weight in his eyes that no 15-year-old should carry.
"I don't know what's changing inside you, Reve," he murmured, "but be careful. Some things in this world don't knock before entering."
Outside, the wind picked up.
And in the woods far behind,
**something else had opened its eyes.**