Clip... clip...
The lights flickered twice before dying out completely in a spacious study inside a grand mansion at the heart of Grenhant City.
The faint glow of candlelight revealed a neatly arranged desk, its polished surface gleaming softly. Upon it lay a framed calligraphy plaque that read Emus Clin — the proud name of the man who owned this home.
"Darling? What are you doing in here? Dinner's ready..."
A gentle voice echoed from behind the door. A moment later, it opened — revealing a woman and a boy of about ten standing at the threshold.
The woman froze. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw her husband standing behind his desk, a knife raised high in his trembling hand.
"Emus, what are you doing?!" she cried.
The man's eyes were hollow, unfocused. His lips trembled as he muttered under his breath,
"Bribery... tax evasion... deceit... murder..."
Then, louder, his voice cracked like a whip.
"I am drenched in sin - so I offer this wretched life as atonement!"
Thud—
The knife plunged deep into his chest.
"Emus!" The woman screamed, her voice breaking as she rushed forward. Blood spilled across the floorboards, spreading toward the candlelight and staining the edge of the calligraphy plaque.
Her son stood motionless, paralyzed by shock. His small hands trembled, eyes wide as the horrific scene imprinted itself in his memory. The coppery scent of blood filled the air, thick and suffocating. Papers stacked neatly on the desk were now splattered red—his father's final mark upon this world.
The woman's scream pierced the silence, summoning every servant in the mansion.
***
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the vast city of Grenhant—
Blarr!
Flames devoured the streets. Smoke billowed high into the dark sky as chaos reigned. Ean's breaths came fast and shallow, his lungs burning. His eyes darted wildly, searching for any path of escape through the inferno.
"Where... where can I go?" he thought desperately.
Through the waves of heat, a shadow moved.
"Ean!"
The call struck him like lightning. His body jolted—
and suddenly, the fire was gone.
Ean's eyes flew open. His chest heaved as he found himself back in his room, safe and warm. His mother stood beside his bed, her expression puzzled and worried.
"Mother...?" he whispered, still disoriented. Melian smiled softly, her gentle features easing his panic.
"Dinner's ready, sweetheart. Everyone's waiting," she said kindly.
Ean exhaled, tension leaving his shoulders. He nodded and managed a faint smile. Melian studied his face for a moment before placing a tender hand on his shoulder.
"Did you have a bad dream?" she asked quietly, worry flickering in her voice.
Ean shook his head, his lips curling into a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, Mother. I'll come down soon, just need a moment to get ready."
Melian lingered for a heartbeat longer, studying his face. "Are you sure, Ean?"
"I promise," he replied, firmer this time.
"Alright then," she said with a nod, stepping toward the door. "Take your time. There's no need to rush."
"Thank you, Mother," Ean said softly as she smiled and closed the door behind her.
Once alone, he exhaled deeply, running a hand through his damp hair. The echoes of his dream still clung to his mind—fire, shadows, and a scream that wasn't his own.
---
The scent of braised stew drifted through the small but cozy home, mingling with the soft crackle of the hearth. The Briden family gathered around a wooden table worn smooth from years of use.
Melian was scolding her youngest daughter, Lira, who had snuck a piece of meat from the pot, while Sean, their weary but kind-eyed father, chuckled quietly after a long day's work.
Ean Briden smiled. There was warmth here, comfort.
Yet sometimes, beneath that laughter, a quiet emptiness pulled at his chest. As if something precious had been torn away long ago, leaving behind a void too deep to name.
Dreams often came to fill that void—flashes of a burning village, and a man standing in the fire, his face hidden but painfully familiar. And every time Ean awoke, the images slipped away like smoke through his fingers.
Tonight felt no different.
"Ean," Melian called softly, breaking his reverie. "Don't just sit there, dear. Eat."
Ean blinked and smiled faintly. "Of course, Mother." He reached for his spoon—
BANG. BANG. BANG.
The sound of fists pounding against the door cut through the air. The laughter died instantly. Sean's brows furrowed as he rose to his feet, motioning for everyone to stay put. But before he could reach the door—
CRAAACK.
The door burst open. Cold night air swept into the room, carrying with it the heavy scent of rain and iron. Figures cloaked in black stepped across the threshold, their boots thudding against the wooden floor.
Under the flickering lamplight, their eyes glinted—sharp, unfeeling, and cold as steel. The tallest among them scanned the room slowly until his gaze locked on Ean.
"There," he said, voice low and certain. "That's him. Ean Briden."
Ean froze where he stood. "What…?"
His little sister, Lira, clung tightly to their mother's arm, her small fingers trembling. The warmth that had once filled the dining room seemed to vanish, replaced by a heavy, suffocating silence. The flickering lamplight cast uneasy shadows across the strangers' dark cloaks.
Sean, their father, stepped forward, his voice brimming with restrained fury. "Who are you people? Get out of my house!"
The man who had pointed at Ean didn't flinch. Instead, he reached into his coat and revealed a metallic insignia — a shimmering silver badge engraved with an emblem of a rising sun pierced by a blade.
The sight made Sean's eyes widen in disbelief.
"I am Kael Draven, Shadow Inquisitor of the Guardian of Dawn," the man declared, his voice cold but commanding.
Two cloaked figures stood behind him, silent as statues, the faint glint of steel visible beneath their robes. "We've come to retrieve the boy."
His chin tilted slightly toward Ean.
Ean Briden blinked, confusion flooding his features. The Guardian of Dawn — they were an elite order, known across the continent for hunting supernatural threats. What business could they possibly have with someone like him?
"M–Me?" Ean stammered, his voice cracking. "Why me?"