A young man with black hair and black eyes sat alone at a table just outside a small cafe.
He stared endlessly at the empty plate where his dessert had once been.
Normally, he wouldn't waste money on something so trivial. He always felt like desserts were too frivolous, an indulgence for people with time to spare and money to waste.
But today… today was different.
It was January First.
His birthday.
And, like a cruel joke, it was also the day of the Harvest.
Lune stared at the empty plate a little longer, letting the bitter taste of regret settle on his tongue. The sweet, artificial cream had been a poor imitation of the real thing, but for a moment, it's bittersweet taste had almost been worth it.
Letting out a deep sigh, his attention turned to the newspaper laying on his left.
There, in a black, bold font a massive headline cut across the whole page.
"Leader of House Lionheart found dead!"
Lune's eyes widened at the headline.
'Tommen Lionheart's dead? Who could've killed that monster?'
Everyone knew about the leader of House Lionheart, a ruthless man who stood at pinnacle of humanity, being considered the second strongest human alive.
Intrigued, Lune continued to read.
"Kaelle Moreau gives statement: It is a great tragedy to lose one of the pillar's, humanity's hope, but fear not! Together, with Houses 1,2,3, I, Kaelle Moreau, promise you that we will do everything to find the one responsible!"
Lune lingered at the words for a moment.
'They don't know who killed one of the strongest humans? Sounds like a load of–'
A sudden horn pierced through the air, cutting his thought short.
As he turned his attention toward the street, he saw countless people moving down the road, marching toward the Old City Square.
Parents clutched their teenage children with trembling arms while officials in neatly pressed uniforms hurried past them, using horns and shouting hollow encouragements which bounced lifelessly across the narrow road.
'Right… I guess it's time…' he thought as he stood up, pushing the chair back in its place.
For a moment longer, he watched the street where many of his peers cried quietly, while the rest simply stared straight ahead, lost in thought, their faces stoic as if they had already accepted what was about to happen. The collective dread of the crowd was like a physical pressure, filing the air with its suffocating presence.
Then, with a heavy reluctance which weighed each of his steps, he joined them.
The street was dimly lit.
If it wasn't for the watch at his wrist, he would not be able to tell that this was indeed a day time. It's been hundred of years since the sun had died, it's brilliant light vanished, leaving humanity in an endless dark.
But that absolute darkness didn't last long as soon after the sun's death, a new, very different, form of light had appeared.
And as Lune turned the corner, he saw it.
It was a colossal, impossible thing that dwarfed the tallest buildings of the fallen city.
Its silver trunked looked as if it could hold the heavens, so vast it seemed to warp the reality around it. Its branches looked as if cracks of lighting froze in time, scattered across the dark sky. There were no leaves, only faint shimmers of brilliant silver light which danced around its branches. And from these very branches hung the fruits, orbs made of pale light that pulsed in a steady, slow rhythm.
It was the Soul Devouring Tree… or at least that's what everyone called it.
He had seen it countless times before.
And yet, each time he felt as if the air grew still, as if the world held its breath just for him to look. Even now, pushed by the silent crowd, he couldn't tear his eyes away. It was beautiful and terrifying all at once.
Finally, with a reluctant turn he managed to snap his gaze away.
Looking down at the slowing crowd he saw families clung desperately to their children. Those without them, orphaned either by fate or the Harvest itself stood alone, their stoic faces turning into looks of sour regret.
The encouragements from the government officials were nothing but noise now, meaningless against the looming ritual.
Then, before he could study the crowd any further, a deep tremor ran through the ground.
Lune's eyes moved upward and there, right below the Soul Devouring Tree, a second figure stirred.
The Harbinger of Death.
Its skin was white as a bone, its hair a fall of pure ash. A black cloak shrouded a frame larger than the city's tallest building. Its long hair swayed faintly despite the fact that not even wind dared to get close to it. No one had ever seen its face. Many had tried, but those who strayed too close… simply vanished.
It spent most of the year like a porcelain statue, keenling still beside the tree.
But now, with a precision as cold and absolute as the void itself, the Harvest began.
The Harbinger's movements were fluid and horrifically deliberate. It raised a pale, slender hand toward the nearest fruit.
The crowd froze.
Everyone in the crowd seemed to hold their breath as the figure moved.
Instinctievly, Lune glanced down at the old mechanical watch on his wrist…
09:59:59
And as the second hand ticked forward…
Snap!
The fruit broke from the branch with a sound that was both soft and deafening.
The Harbinger held the shimmering orb for a heartbeat before it crumbled into a whirlwind of incandescent ash, its light swallowed by the Tree's immense glow.
Lune's eyes darted back to the crowd.
All around him, every one of his peers, every eighteen year old dissolved into that same glowing ash, slipping through desperate fingers, vanishing from embraces and disappearing from this world.
A mother screamed, clutching at empty air. Countless items clattered on the ground. He wanted to look away. He wanted to close his eyes. But his body refused to obey.
Finally, his gaze was pulled back to the Tree. The Harbinger had already returned to its knees, sitting with the calmness of a fulfilled purpose. Its cloak pooled around it like a spill of midnight. Its hair cascaded over unmoving shoulders.
Then, Lune's vision turned dark.
He felt his body unravel. There was no weight, no ground, no sense of up or down. He was less than a ghost. He became nothing.
And in that nothingness, a voice, utterly foreign, echoed in his mind.
[Welcome to the Realm Beyond. Your First Expedition Starts now…]