Darkness lingered.A cold, endless dark.
Then—breath.Pain.A dull ache that spread through his entire body.
He opened his eyes to a gray dawn. The forest canopy above was shifting with the wind, and shafts of light broke through, speckling the ground. He lay on damp earth, back against a tree. His head throbbed, every bone screaming protest.
He remembered.The village.The graves.The man under the tree.Rage flared, sharp and sudden, and he jolted upright.
"Where…?" His voice was hoarse.
The clearing was empty.No man.No gourd of liquor.Only the faint scent of smoke and something metallic lingering in the air.
He staggered to his feet, swaying. His head spun and he reached out to steady himself against a tree trunk. His palm came away damp with blood—his own, from the cuts and bruises that crisscrossed his arms.
"What… happened to me?" he whispered.
He looked around, searching for signs: footprints, broken branches, anything. But the clearing was untouched, as though no one had ever been there.
Fragments of last night burned in his memory.The stone in his hand.The man's indifferent face.And then… that crushing weight, that sudden numbness, the world turning black.
Fear crept in now, sliding icy fingers down his spine. What was he? No ordinary man could do that—could erase thought, erase strength with just a glance.
He dropped to his knees, clutching his head.The image of his sister's smile came unbidden, soft and warm. His parents' laughter. The smell of bread from the hearth. And then—the screams, the blood, the demons tearing through it all.
"No," he hissed through clenched teeth. "I won't die here. Not yet."
He forced himself up, trembling. He didn't know how, but he knew this: the man under the tree, that sleeper who did nothing, was as dangerous as the demons themselves. Maybe more.
The forest around him was silent except for distant birdcalls. He looked down at his shaking hands, then back toward the village, though he couldn't see it from here.
"I'll find him," he whispered. His voice cracked, but his eyes burned with something new—resolve, thin and fragile, but there. "I'll find him, and I'll make him pay. I'll make them all pay."
He took one unsteady step forward. Then another.Each step away from the clearing felt heavier than the last, as though the forest itself wanted him to stay.But he didn't stop.
By the time the sun was fully risen, the boy had left the clearing behind, walking a path that didn't exist, into a future carved by hatred and loss.
Behind him, far away, in the shadows between ancient trees, a figure leaned lazily against another trunk, sipping from a gourd and watching.
Talon's lips curled into the faintest smile.Then he closed his eyes and went back to sleep.