By the time Galahad reached seventeen, he had learned that the most reliable work in the city came from merchants.
Merchants always needed someone quick and cheap to run errands across the capital. Delivering messages, carrying goods, or escorting small packages between districts paid a few copper coins at a time, and while the work was exhausting, it was usually safer than fighting over scraps in the streets.
Usually.
That morning, a grain merchant handed Galahad a sealed letter and pointed toward the northern forest road.
"Take this to a man staying in an old hunting cabin," the merchant said while counting a few coins in his hand. "Give it to him directly and come back with his reply."
Galahad nodded and took the letter.
"How far?" he asked.
"About two hours outside the city."
Galahad frowned slightly. Jobs that were far from the capital were rare, but the pay was better than normal.
"Fine."
The merchant handed him the coins.
"Half now, half when you return."
Galahad pocketed the money before starting the long walk toward the northern road.
The city slowly faded behind him as the dirt path led deeper into the surrounding woods.
Tall trees stretched over the road, their branches blocking much of the sunlight, while the sounds of insects and birds replaced the noise of the capital. Galahad had rarely traveled this far outside the city walls, but the quiet forest felt strangely peaceful compared to the crowded streets he was used to.
After nearly two hours of walking, he finally spotted the cabin.
It stood near a clearing in the woods, a small wooden structure that looked old but still intact. Smoke drifted faintly from the chimney, suggesting someone was inside.
Galahad approached cautiously.
Something felt wrong.
Years of living on the streets had sharpened his instincts, and the silence surrounding the cabin felt unnatural.
No birds.
No wind.
Nothing.
His hand slowly moved toward the knife strapped to his belt.
Then the ground behind him shook.
Galahad turned just in time to see the massive shape emerging from the forest.
The creature towered over him, its body nearly twice the height of a man. Thick gray skin covered its massive limbs while jagged teeth protruded from a wide, twisted mouth.
A troll.
Galahad's heart sank.
Trolls were not supposed to be this close to the capital.
Without hesitation, he turned and ran.
The troll roared behind him, its heavy footsteps shaking the ground as it charged forward.
Galahad darted between the trees, using the forest to slow the monster's pursuit. The creature smashed through branches and trunks with brute force, tearing a path through the woods as it chased him.
He needed distance.
He needed time.
But trolls were relentless hunters.
A massive hand slammed into his side before he could fully dodge.
Pain exploded through his body as the impact sent him crashing across the ground. He rolled violently before slamming against the base of a fallen tree.
Something cracked.
Galahad gasped as agony shot through his leg.
Fractured.
The troll stomped toward him again.
Gritting his teeth, Galahad forced himself to stand and limped deeper into the forest. Blood ran down the side of his face where his head had struck the ground, partially blinding him as he stumbled forward.
The troll roared again.
He didn't look back.
He just kept moving.
Eventually, the monster's footsteps faded behind him.
Galahad didn't know how long he wandered after that. His leg screamed with every step while his vision blurred from blood loss and exhaustion.
Then he saw it.
An old stone tower stood among the trees, its upper half collapsed and blackened by what looked like fire damage from years ago.
It was abandoned.
Galahad dragged himself inside.
The interior was nothing more than a ruined chamber filled with broken stone and ash-covered walls, but it was enough to hide him from the forest.
His body finally gave out.
He collapsed against the wall as darkness crept into the edges of his vision.
The cold stone beneath him felt strangely distant.
For the first time in years, Galahad thought he might actually die.
Then the shadows moved.
At first, he thought it was his fading vision playing tricks on him, but the darkness inside the tower slowly began to swirl together like smoke gathering in the air.
The shadows thickened.
They twisted and condensed until they formed the shape of a tall figure standing a few feet away.
The figure wore a long black cloak that seemed to absorb the dim light of the ruined tower. A skeletal hand rested on the handle of a massive scythe while two faint points of pale light glowed beneath the hood.
Galahad stared at the figure weakly.
"…Am I dead?"
The figure tilted its head slightly.
"No."
The voice was calm and hollow.
"But you are close."
Galahad let out a faint laugh.
"That sounds about right."
The figure studied him silently for a moment.
"I must admit," the being finally said, "I did not expect someone like you to survive this long."
Galahad frowned slightly.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
The figure stepped forward.
"Your soul."
The words echoed strangely in the ruined chamber.
"It is stronger than it should be."
Galahad blinked slowly.
"You're talking nonsense."
The cloaked figure ignored the comment.
"You were born without a divine blessing. Cast aside by your family and forced to survive alone for more than a decade."
The glowing lights beneath the hood focused on him.
"And yet your soul remains unbroken."
Galahad said nothing.
"I find that… interesting."
The figure rested both hands on the scythe.
"I am willing to offer you something."
Galahad gave a weak smirk.
"Let me guess… power?"
"No."
The answer came immediately.
"A second chance."
That made Galahad pause.
"A second chance… at life."
Silence filled the ruined tower.
"What's the catch?" Galahad asked quietly.
"You must learn the truth."
"The truth about what?"
"The world."
The figure leaned slightly closer.
"The truth about the gods who abandoned you."
"The truth about the devils who watch from the shadows."
"And the truth about what you really are."
Galahad stared at the cloaked being for a long moment.
It sounded insane.
But so did talking to a walking skeleton in a burned tower.
"…Fine," he muttered.
"If I survive this, I guess I'll listen."
The figure slowly straightened.
"Very well."
The scythe tapped softly against the stone floor.
"Then listen carefully."
The pale lights beneath the hood brightened slightly.
"Because everything you think you know about this world…"
The figure paused.
"…is a lie."