The town was called Riverside, and it was the most wonderful place Tadano had ever seen.
They'd spent the morning wandering the market square, mouths open like children, staring at everything. Vendors called out their wares from colorful stalls—fresh bread that actually smelled like something other than cave moss, fruits in colors Tadano didn't know existed, cloth woven in patterns that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight.
Vivi had dragged him to every single stall, her eyes wide with wonder. She'd never seen an apple before. Neither had he. The vendor had laughed at their confused expressions and given them each one for free, just to watch their faces as they took their first bites.
Tadano had almost cried. He didn't know food could taste like that.
They'd used the few coins they'd stolen from the underground—old currency the elders had kept "for emergencies"—to buy actual meals at a small restaurant. Real meat, not the processed protein bars they'd grown up on. Fresh vegetables. Bread so soft it practically melted on the tongue.
"I'm never eating mushrooms again," Vivi declared through a mouthful of what the menu called "roasted chicken." "Never. They're dead to me."
Tadano had just smiled and kept eating, savoring every bite like it might be his last.
After lunch, they'd explored. The town had shops that sold things Tadano had only seen in old books—clothing that wasn't made from recycled fabric, tools that gleamed with metal that hadn't been re-forged a dozen times, and technology. So much technology.
A shop owner had demonstrated something called a "comm-link"—a small device that could transmit voices across vast distances. Another had shown them a "heat-box" that could cook food without fire or magic. Vivi had been fascinated by everything, asking questions until the shopkeepers' heads spun, while Tadano had watched and listened and tried to understand how the world worked up here.
It was so different from what the elders had described. Yes, there was evidence of the Darks' occupation—symbols carved into buildings, patrol routes marked on street corners, official notices posted in the square written in a harsh, angular script. But the people seemed... adapted. They went about their lives, ran their businesses, raised their families.
They'd learned to live under occupation.
"It's not so bad," a baker had told them when Vivi asked about the Darks. He'd shrugged, handing them samples of something called "honey cake." "They leave us alone mostly. As long as we pay our taxes and follow the rules, we can live our lives. Could be worse."
"Could be worse" seemed to be the town's unofficial motto.
As the afternoon stretched on, Tadano found himself relaxing despite his better judgment. Maybe the Council had been overly cautious. Maybe life on the surface wasn't as dangerous as they'd claimed. Maybe—
The bell rang at dusk.
It was different from the morning bell—deeper, more ominous. The cheerful bustle of the market square stuttered, then stopped. Vendors began packing up their stalls with hurried efficiency. Shopkeepers ushered customers out and closed their doors. Parents grabbed their children's hands and pulled them off the streets.
Within minutes, the square was nearly empty.
"What's happening?" Vivi asked, her hand instinctively moving to where flames could spark at her fingertips.
Tadano drew his sword an inch from its sheath, just enough to free the blade if needed. "I don't know. But I don't like it."
They heard the marching before they saw it. A rhythmic, mechanical sound of boots on stone, moving in perfect unison. Then the army appeared at the far end of the square.
They wore black armor that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Their helmets covered their faces completely, leaving only narrow slits for eyes that glowed with a sickly purple light. Each soldier carried a weapon that crackled with dark energy—not quite lightning, not quite fire, but something wrong and twisted.
The Darks.
Tadano felt his blood turn to ice. These were the monsters from the elders' stories. The conquerors who'd taken their world. And they were here, marching through the town square with the casual confidence of absolute power.
There were twenty of them, led by a commander whose armor bore silver markings. They moved with military precision, splitting into groups that fanned out through the streets.
And then the screaming started.
A door burst open three buildings down. A Dark soldier emerged, dragging a boy who couldn't have been older than fourteen. The child was crying, struggling against the iron grip on his arm. Behind him, a woman—his mother, had to be—stumbled out, reaching for her son with desperate hands.
"Please!" she sobbed. "Please, not him! He's all I have! Please!"
The soldier ignored her. Another Dark stepped forward and shoved the woman back into her house, slamming the door in her face. Her wails echoed through the now-silent square.
Tadano's hand tightened on his sword hilt.
More doors opened. More soldiers emerged with more children—some fighting, some frozen in terror, all being dragged toward the center of the square where the commander waited. Parents followed, begging, pleading, crying. But not fighting. None of them were fighting.
They were just... letting it happen.
"What are they doing?" Vivi whispered, her voice shaking. "Tadano, what are they doing?"
A girl, maybe twelve years old with bright blonde hair, was pulled from a bakery. Tadano recognized it—they'd bought bread there just hours ago. The baker who'd told them "could be worse" stood in the doorway, tears streaming down his face, but he didn't move. Didn't fight.
Just watched as they took his daughter.
Ten children in total were gathered in the square. The youngest looked barely ten. The oldest might have been sixteen, the same age as the twins. They huddled together, some crying openly, others standing in shocked silence.
The commander stepped forward, pulling out what looked like a small device. It glowed with that same sickly purple light, and when he held it up to each child in turn, it pulsed brighter or dimmer.
"Magic testing," an old man muttered nearby. Tadano hadn't noticed him standing in a doorway, half-hidden in shadow. His face was weathered and sad. "They come once a month. Take any child between ten and sixteen who shows strong magical potential."
"Take them where?" Tadano asked, his voice low and dangerous.
The old man shrugged, a gesture of helpless acceptance. "The camps. No one knows exactly where. No one comes back to tell us."
"They're children," Vivi said, and Tadano could hear flames crackling in her voice, could see small wisps of smoke rising from her clenched fists. "They're just children."
"I know, girl. I know." The old man looked at her with tired, knowing eyes. "Lost my grandson three years back. Same way. Nothing to be done about it."
"Nothing to be—" Vivi's voice rose, flames sparking brighter. "How can you just stand there? How can everyone just—"
Tadano grabbed her arm, squeezing hard enough to hurt. "Vivi. Not now."
"But they're—"
"I know." His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried a weight Vivi had never heard before. "I know."
He watched as the commander finished his testing, selecting seven of the ten children. The other three were shoved back toward their parents with casual cruelty. Those families sobbed with relief even as their neighbors' children were chained together at the wrists with bindings that glowed with dark magic.
One of the selected children—a boy with dark hair and eyes that reminded Tadano painfully of his own reflection—tried to run. He made it three steps before a Dark soldier caught him, lifting him off his feet and throwing him back into line with enough force that the boy cried out in pain.
Something cold and terrible settled in Tadano's chest. A feeling he'd never experienced before. Not anger—this was beyond anger. This was hate. Pure, crystalline, absolute hate.
These soldiers, these Darks, they were taking children. Ripping them from their families. And everyone just watched. Just accepted it. Just learned to live with it because "could be worse."
He wanted to draw his sword. Wanted to charge into that square and cut down every single Dark soldier until the street ran red. Wanted to hear them scream the way these parents were screaming.
Vivi was shaking beside him. Not with anger—he knew her angry shake. This was different. This was fear. Real, genuine fear. For the first time in her life, his fearless, reckless sister was afraid.
"Tadano," she whispered. "We have to do something."
"We can't." The words tasted like ash. "There are twenty soldiers. We're two teenagers with a sword and fire magic. We'd die, and those children would still be taken."
"Then what do we do?"
Tadano watched as the children were led away, their parents' screams fading as the Dark army marched out of the square. He watched families collapse in the streets, sobbing. He watched neighbors comfort each other with hollow words and empty gestures. He watched the town begin to slowly, painfully, return to normal, because this was normal for them. This happened every month. Every single month, children were taken, and everyone just... adapted.
The baker who'd given them honey cake was closing his shop again, moving like a puppet with cut strings. His daughter was gone. And tomorrow he'd open again, bake his bread, smile at his customers, and tell people "could be worse."
Because what else could he do?
"We stay," Tadano said finally, his voice hard as steel. "We learn. We get stronger. We find others who want to fight. And then—" His hand tightened on his sword until his knuckles went white. "Then we make them pay for every single child they've taken."
Vivi looked up at him, and in the dying light, her eyes reflected the same cold fury that burned in his chest. "I was afraid," she admitted quietly. "When I saw them, I was afraid."
"Good." Tadano met her gaze. "Fear will keep us alive. But hate—" He looked back at the now-empty square, at the scorch marks where a child had tried to use magic to defend himself and been beaten down for it. "Hate will keep us fighting."
The old man was still watching them from his doorway. "You're not from around here," he said. It wasn't a question.
"No," Tadano replied.
"Thought so. You've got that look. The one people lose after their first Culling." He stepped out of the shadows, and Tadano saw the sword calluses on his hands, the old scars. A soldier once, maybe. "Word of advice, boy. That hate you're feeling? It'll either make you a hero or get you killed. Usually both."
"I'll take my chances."
The old man smiled, sad and knowing. "Yeah. That's what they all say." He turned to go, then paused. "There's an inn called the Broken Shield three streets west. Run by a woman named Sarah. She's... sympathetic to people with your particular mindset. Tell her Marcus sent you."
Then he was gone, disappearing into the evening shadows.
Tadano and Vivi stood in the square as darkness fell and the first stars appeared. The same stars they'd marveled at that morning. But now they looked different. Colder. More distant.
"The Council was right," Vivi said softly. "We just couldn't see it in daylight."
"No." Tadano shook his head. "The Council was lying. About the patrols, about the town being destroyed, about people living in constant fear. They painted a picture of a world that didn't exist. But this—" He gestured at the empty square, at the closed doors, at the families grieving in silence. "This is worse. Because this is real. This is what living under occupation actually means. Adaptation. Acceptance. Survival at the cost of everything that makes you human."
He turned to his sister, and when he spoke, his voice was steady and sure. "I'm not going back, Vivi. Not ever. I'm staying on this surface, and I'm going to fight until every last Dark is dead or I am. That's my promise."
Vivi's flames sparked to life in her hands, bright and defiant in the darkness. "Then we fight together. Like always."
"Like always."
They walked through the darkening streets toward the western district, toward an inn called the Broken Shield, toward whatever came next. Behind them, the town of Riverside settled into uneasy sleep, another Culling survived, another month of peace bought with children's lives.
And somewhere in the darkness, the wheels of something larger began to turn. Because two teenagers with nothing but a sword and fire magic had just declared war on an empire that had ruled for three thousand years.
It would not be a short war.
But it would be a righteous one.