"Mama… is the Wall really made of blood?"
Gaius's voice cut through the howling wind that battered against the shutters like a thousand grasping fingers.
His mother paused for just a moment, studying him with a calm intensity.
Without saying a word, she reached out, her cold fingers pulling him closer beneath their worn, patchwork blanket. Her movements were deliberate like she was protecting him from something. With her other hand, she stroked his hair in a steady rhythm, one that soothed her as much as it did him.
Her gaze remained fixed on the hearth. The flames had dwindled, casting long shadows that danced across the cracked wooden floor like restless spirits.
Then, a scream erupted.
It was neither human nor animal.
It was something in between—or something far older.
It clawed at the air like metal scraping against bone.
The boy flinched, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist.
She remained unshaken. She exhaled slowly, her fingers continuing their calming motion through his hair.
"Tell me the story, mama, tell me" he urged, pressing his face against her chest. "Tell me how the Wall was made."
She closed her eyes for a moment.
Taking a steady breath, her chest rose and fell in a purposeful rhythm. When she opened her eyes again, she lifted her chin, turning her head to the flames, the dying light casting golden contours on her cheeks.
Then she began.
"When the Devil and his angels fell..."
Her lips barely moved, yet each word struck the silence like stones cast into still water. Her hand found the edge of the hearth, gripping it firmly as if anchoring herself against the tide of memory.
"They didn't fall quietly Gaius. They burned."
She turned slightly, her fingers brushing against his trembling hands.
"They tore the sky apart, child. Heaven turned away. But Earth…" She peered out the window, her eyes narrowing against the wind-whipped darkness.
"Earth welcomed them."
She shifted, pulling her legs beneath her with practiced ease—one elbow braced against the wall, the other still protectively around his shoulder.
"Stripped of wings, broken and burning, they crawled from the craters. Starving and soulless, searching for something they could never name."
Her gaze focused on him, her fingers resting on his chin, tilting it upward.
"And then… they saw us. Women."
The boy blinked in awe, his lips slightly parted.
"Their love was not gentle. It was fire, teeth, domination. And from that… monsters were born."
Her voice deepened, and she leaned closer, gripping his shoulder tightly—not from fear, but to reinforce her strength.
"Not angels. Not demons. Something worse. Something that remembered both."
---
She shifted again—leaned her back against the wall, legs drawn up, her boots scuffed but resolute, still caked in last week's frost.
"At first," she continued, her voice sharpening, "they fought beside us. Their cursed sons. They killed the ones who sired them. Helped us push back the darkness."
Her spitting on the floor punctuated her words.
"But poison always finds the heart again."
Her hand lifted, fingers flexing as if holding an invisible thread, then clenched into a fist.
"They wanted more. Our lands. Our skies. Our children."
---
Gaius whimpered.
He buried his face deeper into her side.
"And then?"
She was already moving.
She rose in one fluid, decisive motion. No hesitation. No wasted movement. Her hand trailed along the stone mantle as she turned, each footfall steady, eyes locked in focus.
"Then we found her." Her hand opened at her side as if summoning a ghost from memory.
"The last witch."
She crossed the small room in three quiet strides, lifted a rusted lantern from its hook, and placed it gently on the floor beside the door. The metal clanged softly.
"Velmara. The Pale Flame. The Woman Who Walked in Ashes."
She crouched by the door now, her palm resting against the cold wood.
"She didn't speak. She didn't beg. She opened her wrists."
She mimicked the action, slowly drawing an invisible blade across her arms.
"And from her blood... The Wall was born."
---
The boy stared at her, eyes wide with wonder.
She turned—sharply. Knees pivoting. Hair falling across her cheek like a veil. She took two strides back toward him and crouched low again.
"It was not stone, child. It was alive."
Her hand extended—flat palm against the floorboards as if feeling a pulse in the ground.
"It screamed as it rose. Veins burning with the last light of the gods. A thousand miles of living, bleeding flesh."
She stood again.
One slow breath. Then another.
Her eyes narrowed, head tilting.
Then she whispered:
"It split the world in two. Us on one side. Them on the other."
---
A shift in the wind.
Something clicked, something was moving.
The mother stilled as if anticipating a storm. Her eyes flicked to the window. Her hands curled into fists, steady and resolute.
The wind wasn't screaming now.
It was… singing.
A lullaby. In his wet, crooked voice.
She could feel it drawing closer.
She acted.
Quickly, her hand shot to the door. She slammed the iron latch shut. Dragged the heavy oak table across the threshold, her boots digging into the floor with determination. Her breath came in steady bursts as she prepared for what lay beyond.
---
She lunged. Steel flashing in the firelight.
The creature moved first.
A blur, soundless rush. Faster than any thought.One cut and she was killed.
She fell before her knees could even fold.
Her blood sprayed across the boy's face,dripping down into his lips.
She hit the floor with a sound that would echo in his mind forever.
"Mama!" he croaked, his voice broken, his eyes wide open in terror.
Gaius didn't scream; he couldn't. The sound was lodged in his throat, a weight too heavy to lift. He gazed at her hand—the one that had tucked him in, kept him warm—now lying palm-up, fingers twitching in the finality of death.
---
The creature advanced. Each step was deliberate. Slow. Like a god stepping down from a broken throne.
It crouched before the boy. One hand extended—long fingers curling toward his face.
Its breath reeked of decay and ancient, sacred conflict.
Then it spoke.
"The wall is gone, little lamb."
Its jaw split wide—far too wide. A mouth that defied nature.
And it seized him.
---
By midnight, the cities were ablaze.
Kings breathed their last, whispering prayers unheard by any.
The gods observed.
And at last, the last of the pure-blooded recognized—
No wall can contain what once flowed in your veins.
---
[End of Prologue]
---
If this prologue struck a chord, don't just walk away. Add it to your Library to be the first to know when the next shadow descends. Your presence will remain unforgettable.