The sunrise broke through the gnarled, dense branches of the forest, splashing the valley — where death had hidden just hours before — with sharp rays. The morning mist hung heavy, and from the dark corners of the woods came faint cries: the twins. Two creatures so small, yet in their crying there echoed a call from ancient times.
Ioh, with his dusty cloak and chainmail clinking softly, looked at their faces, drew the cold air deep into his chest and sighed. It was natural: the little ones were hungry, fragile, and the forest — merciless. He found them shelter under a large branch, touched by the morning light only halfway, and quickly walked away.
He lost himself among the tall trees, his steps leaving faint traces on the damp earth. But the forest answered him only with the cold wind, the dry rustling of leaves, and the weak song of a few lost birds. No matter how he searched, no matter how he tried to find a "source of milk" or an animal to catch, the forest seemed deserted — a place that rejected life.
On the branch under which the little ones lay, a weakened sparrow, almost breathless, watched them with cloudy eyes. Its wings trembled, and its chest beat heavier and heavier, like a drum in the night. It knew its time was ending, but the call of duty was stronger than the pain.
With the last scraps of strength, the sparrow dug its claws into the bark of a tree. The dry wood cracked under its tiny talons, and feathers tore off as it scratched, scratched… Irregular marks, hurried cuts that each carried a piece of its soul. "Faster… just a little more… so he knows… so he knows…" it told itself.
When the hands of fate tried to drag it down, it had one last burst of life: it grabbed the carved piece of bark with its beak, turned it and pushed it next to the infants. Then, its sight darkened, its wings stiffened… and it fell, without a single farewell beat.
After a while, through the shadows of the trees, the silhouette of the hunter appeared. He returned with heavy steps, empty-handed, his gaze darkened. But something caught his eye: the piece of bark, and next to it, the small, lifeless body of the sparrow.
Ioh picked it up slowly, and his eyes began to read. The rough, tormented carvings started to make sense as his gaze moved over the words:
"I write these words with the last twitches of my claws... and I lay them down as an oath burning in my weakened heart.
I was meant to be their shield, their guardian, but fate left me only halfway through the promised road.
Tonight, I felt that all was lost, until you appeared… Great Hunter. As thanks for saving them, I can give you only two answers that, I know well, your soul already seeks:
Who are these infants? They are blood of the Grimm lineage. Their father was killed before he could ever speak a word to them, and their mother, in her last moments, begged me with tears to protect them, at any cost.
You've already seen the marks on their skin: the older brother, with the number 9 burned on his chest, is Grimm Nicolai — the delicate rosy boy who clings stubbornly to life. And the younger, with the number 0 on his right shoulder, is Grimm Luc — white as chalk, who seems to have no will to live.
Why are they hunted? I do not know the whole truth… but I know they are tied to the Great Pact, and their birth breaks the vow that holds the darkness at bay.
If you are curious about their past, seek in the village of Crucea Veche a man named Ronan, blind in eyes but not in mind — a man who has seen enough to know.
And now, at the end, I leave you this small gift: under my wing you will find two pills. Drop them into a jug of water and you will have milk to feed them.
May your steps be stronger than death, Great Hunter. I will tell their parents, wherever they may be: 'their children have finally found a worthy guardian.'"
Ioh, with his brow furrowed and breath caught, remained still for a few moments. A wave of guilt and pity darkened his gaze for a moment. He looked at the little ones, then at the tiny body of the sparrow — a creature that had died more honorably than many men.
He bent down, gently brushing the remaining feathers, and whispered, more to himself:
— "I swear to you, little guardian… they will be under my protection, even at the cost of my life."
Then, with trembling hands, he searched under the sparrow's wing. He found the two pills — cold, hard, and ashen. He dropped a pill into water, and when the liquid began to take on a milky hue, he gave a short, tired smile. He fed the little ones, who drank silently, as if understanding that the world they were born into gave no room for rest.
In a low voice, but filled with a warmth he rarely kept for himself, he whispered to them:
— "See, little ones… this magic is called alchemy."
And so, in the pale dawn light, with a shadow of resolve in his eyes, Ioh drew the twins closer to his chest. He stepped quietly, and his black cloak wiped away the traces of blood and tears left behind. The road to the village of Crucea Veche awaited them… a road on which not even the morning sun could dispel all shadows. And somewhere, hidden in the cold valley wind, floated an unseen warning:
The danger did not stalk them only from behind… but also from the darkness they carried within.