As usual, a bloody red moon rose over a simple village, its two-story wooden houses scattered here and there. Above the village rose a green hill, and the hill was stained with light—black mingled with crimson—as if the moon were trying to expel the darkness that had thrown itself upon it.
The village was called "Bath," one of the villages belonging to the "Golden Feather," the largest of the three noble tribes that dominate the kingdom. The village housed one of the small families affiliated with the Feather Tribe. Here, everyone knows each other; everyone grew up together. They were, or at least they used to be, that way.
At the foot of the hill, there was a black shadow of a figure carrying something in its hand. The figure was a young man whose face was covered by darkness, but the faint moonlight cloaked his form in a bloody red color. No, the color wasn't from the moon; it was from a liquid that dyed his hands, his feet, and even the massive sword he was carrying.
There were dozens of people lying at his feet. Their faces were calm, unafraid of this sight; rather, they appeared reassured.
"Ah... Kael, why do you look so serious? It's not worth it."
A low voice echoed in his ears. A shiver ran down Kael's spine.
Down below, there was a woman. A horrific wound pierced her chest, and blood was drowning the brown mud beneath her. A loud scream rose up, covering the blood-stained hill. Flocks of crows took flight, as if searching for the source of the sound.
Kael was startled by the scream, but he soon realized it was his own. He was the one screaming. He felt a chill creep into his fingertips, dispelling the warmth of the blood that coated them.
Ah... Kael..."
The voice called to him. Ever since he was little.
"Ah... Kael... There's no need for all this sorrow."
Kael raised his sword. The sword that had always seemed to understand him now felt unbearably heavy in his hand. He dropped it.
"Ah... Kael..."
The voice stopped. Silence prevailed. Nothing remained but the sound of cicadas, as if singing a mournful melody.
Kael knelt beside his mother's corpse. Drops of water fell onto her face, washing away a few drops of blood where her head had been severed from her body. There was no regret in her face, no fear, no anger. Nothing. Except for the look Kael had always known: a calm look. That's what made it most painful.
Kael snapped his fingers, and a flame ignited in his fist. He raised his hand, and light invaded the red hill. It banished the darkness that had rested upon it, making the shadows of corpses and trees dance under the light of the red full moon.
Kael turned. He walked a step... then another... then another...
Then he fell.