Theo woke with a violent gasp.
Cold air flooded his lungs as his eyes snapped open to a blinding lantern glow above him. The metallic scrape of weapons shifting jolted him further, and suddenly
He wasn't alone.
Three hunters stood around him, rifles drawn, blades half-lifted as though any wrong breath would make them strike. The room was stone, narrow, and dripping with the damp cold of the underground jail beneath the town hall. His wrists burned tight rope marks dug into his skin. His ankles were bound. And worst of all…..
He had no idea how he got here.
Theo tried to sit up, only for Bruno to shove the barrel of his shotgun against his chest.
"Don't move," Bruno growled. His eyes were swollen with rage or tears, Theo couldn't tell. "Not one damn inch."
Theo's panic spiked.
"Where am I….?
Why am I tied….?"
"Don't play dumb," Bruno snapped, the words cracking like a whip. "You know exactly why. You stood over twelve children, soaked in their blood. You terrorised this town for weeks. You…."
His voice nearly broke. "You butchered them."
Theo stared blankly, throat tightening. "I….. what?
No. No, I didn't. I was going to the town hall to help. To save them. I remember running toward the screaming and then…."
He swallowed.
Nothing.
A blank wall.
An empty void that made his skin crawl.
Bruno slammed the butt of his shotgun against the bars. "Liar!"
"Father," Isa snapped sharply. "Enough."
She stepped forward, jaw tense, fear and exhaustion etched into her face. But when she looked at Theo, it wasn't hatred. It was searching. Careful. Controlled.
"Theo," she said softly, "what is the last thing you remember? Exactly."
Theo's breaths trembled. "I remember…"
He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the memory forward.
He remembered the wind, the smell of smoke, the echoing cries… and his own heartbeat running ahead of him.
Then silence.
Then waking here.
"That's it," he whispered. "I don't remember anything after that. It's blank. Like someone…
like something, tore it out of my head."
A cold shiver rippled through Isa. She didn't speak, but the fear in her eyes betrayed a small, terrible truth: she believed him.
But Bruno didn't.
"That's convenient," he spat. "Forget everything you did? Forget how you tore those kids apart—?"
"Father…." Isa tried again.
"No!" Bruno barked. "He's either a demon wearing a boy's skin or he's a cold-blooded murderer pretending to be lost. And both deserve the same ending."
Theo's pulse hammered. He looked from face to face
Maria tense and uncertain, Ivan rigid but thoughtful, and Manuel standing a little behind them, arms crossed, gaze unnervingly calm.
Manuel stepped forward. "Theo."
Theo met his eyes.
Manuel didn't blink. "Are you the monster?"
The room fell silent. Even the torches seemed to still.
Theo's lips parted, but no words came. He didn't know. He genuinely didn't know.
What if he was?
What if the blackout wasn't innocence but transformation?
What if they were right?
Finally, voice barely above a whisper, he said the words that froze the blood of every hunter in the room:
"I… don't know."
The hunters stiffened. Horror flickered across Maria's face. Ivan's grip tightened on his weapon. Bruno cursed under his breath.
The boy wasn't lying.
That was what terrified them most.
I exhaled slowly, a deep, heavy breath. I had seen guilt. He had seen killers. Theo was neither. What he saw now was a human drowning in terror, his own.
The hunters exchanged looks, none of them knowing what to do, none daring to say it out loud.
I turned away first.
"Everyone outside. We talk now."
As they stepped out of the jail corridor and into the narrow guardroom, the weight of the decision settled like a storm cloud.
The hunters formed a tense circle;
I, steady but shaken.
Bruno, vibrating with fury.
Ivan, caught between duty and logic.
Maria, uncertain, hands trembling.
Francisco and Isa, quiet but observant.
Outside, muffled voices of villagers began to gather, grief turning sharp and restless.
Inside the circle, their voices clashed.
Bruno was first. "He's manipulating us. We end this tonight. Before nightfall."
Maria shot him a look. "With what? Your fists? We don't even know if he can die. What if killing him unleashes the monster completely?"
Bruno turned on her sharply. "Then it proves he was the monster, doesn't it?"
"No," Isa said, stepping between them. "It proves we know nothing. We don't know what he is or isn't." She rubbed her forehead. "If he's tethered to the creature… killing him might release it. He could be the only thing holding it back."
Ivan exhaled. "We don't have enough information. That is the only certainty."
Francisco's voice cut through, calm but heavy. "Then we learn. If not about the monster… then about the human."
"We don't know anything about Theo," Maria added softly. "Who he was before arriving here. Why he showed up in A Coruña.
I nodded. "We ask him his story. His real one. Before we condemn him."
Bruno scoffed and gestured wildly toward the cell. "Oh, yes, let's have tea with the monster. Ask him nicely why he murders children."
"We don't know that," Manuel said, voice dangerously calm. "We don't know anything yet."
"And whose fault is that?" Bruno barked. "He's was found at the scene. Now he wakes up covered in children's blood, and you want to play philosopher?"
I didn't break eye contact. "I want to avoid making the wrong choice. If he is the monster, we need the truth to kill it. If he isn't…"
He looked toward the cell.
"…then he's a boy who's being hunted by something he doesn't understand."
Bruno opened his mouth to argue…
But a deep roar of voices echoed from outside the guardroom.
The villagers had come.
And they wanted blood.
I cursed under my breath. "We're out of time."
Francisco straightened. "Then Isa and I will go to Matteo. If there are answers, they'll be in his granduncle's notes. That man knew something about this creature none of us do."
Maria nodded. "And we will question Theo. See what truth looks like when he's telling it."
The group split
I, Bruno, Ivan, and Maria preparing to face Theo… and the mob gathering outside.
Francisco and Isa headed for the hospital.
And outside, the sound of grieving parents rising like a wave filled the corridor with a fury Theo would soon meet.
The hallways of A Coruña's small hospital were dim, washed in that strange grey-blue light that comes after too many sleepless nights. Nurses moved softly, the air thick with disinfectant, fear, and whispered prayers. Outside, the storm winds rattled the shutters as night crawled closer.
Ana sat beside Matteo's bed, one hand clasping his limp fingers. Her eyes were swollen, red from hours of crying and bargaining with whatever God still listened to this tormented town.
When Matteo stirred, it was faint
just a twitch in his brow. Then another.
Ana shot up.
"Matteo?" she whispered, terrified to hope. "Mi niño… can you hear me?"
His eyelids fluttered, then slowly lifted. Confusion clouded his young face, and he squinted as though waking from a nightmare he was still trapped in.
"Tía… Ana?" His voice cracked, raw.
Ana broke into tears instantly, choking on a sob as she cupped his cheeks.
"Gracias a Dios… Matteo, you're awake."
He blinked, trying to piece the world together. "Did we… did we save the children? Did we kill it? Did we stop the monster?"
The question cut through her like a blade.
Ana swallowed hard. Her grip tightened around his hands.
"No, cariño." Her voice broke. "The children… they didn't make it."
Matteo froze.
"No," he whispered. Then again, louder…. "No. No, Ana, no."
Ana pulled him into her arms as he began to shake violently, sobbing into her shoulder. She rocked him gently, crying with him, whispering broken apologies into his hair. There were no words that could make this right.
A child shouldn't have to feel this much pain so young.
"And the creature?" he finally choked out. "Did he make it out?"
Ana hesitated. "No, but we haven't won, not yet…. all we have are more questions than answers,
Theo was found at the scene covered in the blood of the children, we believe he is the killer"
Matteo felt it instantly. He pulled back, red-eyed. "Ana… where is he?"
"He's… imprisoned," she forced out. "They think he's the one responsible."
Matteo stared at her as though she had slapped him. For a moment, it didn't register then the realization hit.
His face changed.
The shock drained, replaced by something sharper, rage.
"My granduncle is dead," he said, each word vibrating with bottled grief. "That creature killed him. And Theo… Theo was found there. At the scene. Covered in blood. Now the children too?"
His hands clenched around the blanket, knuckles whitening.
"Maybe he is the monster," Matteo said coldly. "Maybe he killed them all. Maybe he deserves to die."
"Matteo.." Ana whispered.
He turned away, chest heaving.
"This whole time… I thought he was our friend. But what if he's been lying? What if he killed my granduncle? What if…."
He stopped, breath catching painfully. The mention of his granduncle broke him. Tears welled, spilling before he could wipe them away.
He pressed a shaking fist to his forehead, rage and grief mixing until he couldn't tell one from the other.
Just then, the hospital door burst open.
Francisco and Isa rushed in.
The moment Isa saw Matteo awake, her eyes filled with tears. She ran to him first, flinging her arms around him. It nearly knocked the wind out of him.
"Matteo," she breathed, "thank God…
thank God you're okay. We thought…"
Francisco knelt beside the bed, resting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "We were so worried, hijo. You scared us half to death."
For a few seconds, Matteo melted into the embrace. He clung to them with a sob, as though anchoring himself to what little family he had left.
But then Francisco pulled back and spoke gently:
"Theo's awake."
Matteo's entire body stiffened.
Isa continued, "We think…
Francisco and I…. we think he might be a victim. Like the children. We don't think he's the monster."
Matteo's eyes snapped open.
"What?" He stared at them as if they had lost their minds. "Victim? He's the only one who keeps surviving! he was with the children covered in their blood
he always shows up, and always lives!"
"That doesn't mean he's guilty," Isa said softly.
"It also doesn't mean he's innocent," Matteo shot back, voice cracking. "We look for patterns in monster attacks and he is the only pattern! Why won't any of you see that?"
Francisco's tone stayed calm, but firm. "Because people with no answers often look guilty. Because fear makes us see monsters where there are none."
Matteo opened his mouth to argue, but Francisco cut him off gently:
"If there is even a one percent chance, Matteo. One percent… that he isn't the monster… would your granduncle want you to kill an innocent person?"
Matteo froze.
Those words hit him like a hammer to the chest.
He saw his granduncle's gentle smile, his ink-stained hands, his soft warnings about rushing to judgment. He heard him reading ancient myths aloud at night, telling him:
"Fear will make fools out of the wisest men. Remember that."
His face crumpled.
Ana stepped forward now, voice steady but soft.
"Mi amor… your granduncle wouldn't want blood spilled out of fear. And we need you here. Not to fight. Not to hunt. To help us understand this creature." She brushed his hair off his forehead. "You are the only one who can read his notes. His languages. His research."
Francisco nodded. "If there is a key to this monster's nature, Matteo… it's in your granduncle's writings."
"And we trust you," Isa whispered. "We need you, Matteo. All of us do."
The tears broke free. Matteo threw his arms around Ana, clinging to her as he sobbed into her chest.
"Okay," he whispered. "I'll help. I'll read his notes. I'll find whatever he discovered. I'll do it… I'll do it for all of us."
Francisco wrapped an arm around both of them. Isa held onto Matteo's hand.
And for a brief moment, just a moment,there was warmth in that cold hospital room.
But outside, in the jail beneath the town hall, warmth was nowhere to be found.
Because while Matteo agreed to help…
The villagers had formed a mob.
And they were nearly at Theo's cell.
They heard the mob before they saw it.
A roar dozens of voices layered together rumbled through the town hall's stone corridors like a gathering storm. It wasn't organized shouting; it was grief, fury, despair, all tangled into one primal sound.
And it was coming straight toward the cells.
Inside the dim holding room, Theo sat hunched on the floor, wrists bound in iron cuffs, ankles chained to a steel ring bolted into the wall. His head rested against the cold stone, breath shallow, eyes still dazed from sleep or maybe from the horror of realizing he didn't remember anything after the town hall.
He kept staring at his hands.
As if expecting to see blood on them.
As if afraid that some part of him, even now, would betray him.
I stood outside the bars with Bruno, Ivan, and Maria behind him. Isa and Francisco had not yet returned,they had no idea what was coming.
"Get ready," Maria murmured, voice low. "They've worked themselves into a frenzy."
Bruno spat, "Worked themselves into the truth, you mean."
Maria didn't respond. She kept her eyes locked on Theo, studying him, trying to read him the way she read enemy soldiers during the war. But his expression made her hesitate.
He didn't look like a killer.
He looked like a man drowning.
The door at the end of the hall slammed open before any of them could speak.
The mob poured in.
Dozens of parents, siblings, townsfolk faces twisted by grief, streaked with tears, smeared with dirt. A woman at the front carried the bloodied shoe of her daughter. A man behind her held the broken wooden toy his son always slept with.
They were armed with pitchforks, knives, shovels, axes whatever they could find in their desperation.
"Move!" one father screamed, face contorted with agony. "Move and let us have him!"
Bruno stepped forward immediately, planting himself in the center of the hall.
"You'll go through me first."
It wasn't a threat.
It was a promise.
"He killed our children!" a woman shrieked. "He stood over their bodies! I saw him
I saw him with my own eyes!"
"He's a monster!"
"He's possessed!"
"He's not human!"
Theo flinched at every word, shrinking against the wall, shaking his head again and again as if the repetition alone could undo what they believed.
"I don't remember," he whispered. "Please…. please….. I don't remember…"
But his voice was swallowed by the mob.
I lifted my gun not aimed to fire, but held high, commanding silence.
It took longer than usual.
Almost thirty seconds before the thunder of shouting weakened and the hall stilled enough for him to speak.
Manuel rarely raised his voice. It made the effect more powerful when he did.
"ENOUGH."
The echo slammed through the room.
Every pair of furious eyes turned to him.
He stepped forward, positioning himself directly between Theo and the mob. The tension in the hall tightened like a bowstring.
"He is still human," I said, voice firm. "And until we know what he is, or isn't, he is owed a chance to defend himself."
The mother holding the bloodied shoe trembled with rage.
"He defended nothing. He protected no one. If he had even a shred of humanity, he would have died with the other children!"
A few people shouted in agreement.
My jaw tightened but his voice remained steady.
"If we kill the wrong person, the monster wins. It divides us. Turns us against one another. And it grows stronger in the chaos."
"WORDS!" someone yelled. "That's all you have. WORDS!"
Manuel didn't waver.
"I propose a trial,"
Silence rippled across the hall.
Heads turned. Murmurs began.
"A trial? Now?"
"This is madness."
"He should be hanged, not judged."
But others some quieter, some weary shifted uneasily.
A trial meant fairness. A trial meant order.
Order was the one thing the town had lost.
And Manuel knew it.
"We call the elders," he continued. "We gather the families. We hear his story. Every detail. Every memory. Everything he knows. And after that if you still wish to condemn him, then the judgment will be yours to make."
Bruno clenched his jaw but said nothing.
Maria's eyes flicked toward Manuel with silent approval.
Ivan exhaled, relieved.
Theo stared at them all with wide, terrified eyes, the idea of a trial seeming almost as frightening as execution.
But he stayed silent.
He didn't trust his voice not to break.
The mob rumbled, conflicted.
But Manuel pressed the advantage.
"You want justice? This is how you get it. If he is the monster… we will all see it clearly. If he is innocent… we will learn what truly hunts us."
A man stepped forward grey-haired, gaunt, trembling with grief.
"If night falls…" he rasped, "and he is the monster… children will die again."
Manuel nodded grimly. "Then we don't waste time."
He stepped aside, gesturing sharply.
"Bring the elders. Bring the families. Bring everyone. We begin at once."
The mob shifted, the fighting fire in their eyes cooling just enough….
just enoughto pull back, hesitating.
A few weapons lowered.
A few parents wiped tears from their faces.
Reluctantly, slowly the crowd began to turn away, murmuring, shouting, arguing among themselves, but moving.
Moving was all Manuel needed.
When the last villager left the hall, Bruno turned on him immediately.
"You're delaying the inevitable," he snapped. "You think a trial will change what he is? You think talking to him will stop this thing from killing again tonight?"
Manuel didn't flinch.
"It buys us time."
Bruno scoffed. "Time for what? Another slaughter?"
Maria cut in sharply, "Time to understand what we're dealing with."
"You want understanding?" Bruno growled. "Ask the parents outside. Ask Isa. Ask me. I'm not risking my daughter's life so you can hold hands and question a demon."
Maria's eyes narrowed.
"You think we don't have families?" she said quietly.
And Bruno froze.
Because Maria was never this vulnerable. Never this open. Never this raw.
"My family died in the war," she said, breath shaking. "All of them. My brothers. Gone." She swallowed hard. "So don't tell me I don't understand loss."
Bruno's anger faltered into guilt—but it didn't vanish.
"Maria…" he started.
She turned away before he could finish.
"This isn't about revenge," she said flatly. "It's about not making a mistake we can't undo."
Theo watched this in frozen horror.
He looked at Manuel. "I… I don't know anything. What if I did do it? What if they're right?"
Manuel crouched beside the bars.
"Then we'll learn that too," he said quietly. "But not through fear. Not through rage. Through truth."
Theo swallowed hard.
"I'm scared," he whispered.
"So is everyone," I replied.
Outside, the mob scattered across the town to gather the elders.
Inside, the hunters argued on the razor edge of violence.
Because night was falling, fear was rising.
And the monster was never far.