Eldermire woke the same way it always did.
Sunlight over the fields. Smoke rising from cooking fires. The sound of carts rolling over dirt paths. Nothing unusual. Nothing out of place.
And at the center of it all—Renn.
Morning began with work.
He helped in the fields first, lifting sacks of harvested grain that two men could barely move. He carried them alone without slowing down, placing them neatly onto the storage carts as villagers directed.
"Renn, over here!" a farmer called. "These need to go to the east shed!"
Renn nodded and lifted the load in one motion.
"That's not normal strength…" another villager muttered under his breath.
Renn heard it, but said nothing.
Next came hunting.
He returned from the forest with more game than the entire hunting group combined, each catch clean and precise. No wasted motion, no struggle. Just results.
"You're going too deep again," one of the hunters warned. "Even experienced men avoid that part of the woods."
"It's fine," Renn replied simply. "There's nothing there that can't be handled."
They didn't argue further.
Because he was always right.
By midday, he was fixing broken fences, repairing carts, and helping carry water barrels to the higher homes. Whatever needed strength, he did it. Whatever needed speed, he finished it before anyone else could offer help.
To the village, he was a blessing.
To Renn, it was just routine.
Elira Arden sat outside their small wooden home, her shawl wrapped tightly around her frail shoulders. Age had softened her once steady frame, but her eyes still carried warmth whenever they landed on her son.
Renn crouched beside her, placing a bundle of freshly gathered herbs into a woven basket.
"You've been overworking again," Elira said gently, watching his hands. "The villagers keep asking for your help, and you never refuse."
Renn shrugged slightly. "It's nothing difficult."
Elira gave a quiet, tired smile. "Nothing difficult… you say that after carrying ten sacks of rice in one trip."
"That was light," Renn replied plainly.
She sighed, shaking her head. "They depend on you too much."
"They're my neighbors," Renn said. "If I can help, I will."
A short silence passed between them—comfortable, familiar.
Then Elira spoke again, softer this time.
"They're grateful, Renn. Truly. Without you, Eldermire would struggle more than it already does."
Renn didn't respond right away. Instead, he checked the herbs again, as if confirming something only he could see.
"You should rest more," he said finally. "Your breathing is getting worse."
Elira chuckled faintly. "Now you sound like the village healer."
"I am serious."
"I know," she said, reaching out to tap his arm lightly. "That's why I'm still here listening."
Renn stood after a moment.
"I'll go to the forest. We're missing a few herbs."
Elira nodded slowly. "Don't take too long. Dinner will be ready."
"I'll be back before sunset."
And just like that, he left.
The forest was familiar.
Quiet. Predictable.
Renn moved through it with ease, stepping over roots and stones without slowing down. He knew every path, every sound, every shift in wind. The village often joked that he could hunt blindfolded and still return with more game than anyone else.
He reached the deeper part of the woods where rare herbs grew.
Still… something felt wrong.
The air was too still.
Even the insects were quiet.
Renn paused.
"…Strange."
He crouched and began collecting the herbs, placing them carefully into his bag. Time passed normally—too normally.
That was when he noticed it.
A mistlike shadow.
He followed the shadow deep inside the forest.
It wasn't just smoke—it had shape. A drifting, unstable presence that moved between the trees like a torn fragment of night. Renn tracked it silently, step after step, deeper and deeper into the woods, far longer than he intended.
Then—
An explosion shattered the silence behind him.
A distant roar tore through the air, followed by a shockwave that rippled through the forest canopy. Birds burst into flight. Trees trembled. Dust and ash rose into the sky.
Renn froze.
Slowly, he turned his head.
In the direction of Eldermire.
"…The village."
His expression tightened for the first time.
Something was wrong.
He didn't think.
He ran.
The forest blurred around him as he moved at full speed. Trees bent backward from the force of his movement. The ground cracked beneath each step. Wind screamed past his ears, but he didn't slow down.
Something in his chest burned.
Faster.
He pushed harder.
Eldermire came into view.
And stopped his breath.
Smoke filled the village.
But not normal smoke.
The same black mist.
Renn landed at the edge of the settlement.
Silence.
Too much silence.
He stepped forward slowly.
Then he saw them.
Villagers lying across the ground.
Not injured.
Not struggling.
Gone.
No movement. No sound. No life.
Renn's eyes shifted quickly.
"Mother…"
His voice broke slightly.
He turned sharply toward their home.
It was still standing—but the door was open.
His body moved before his thoughts did.
He ran.
Inside the house—
A mist soldier stood in the center of the room.
And in its grip…
Elira.
Renn stopped instantly at the doorway.
His mind went blank.
"Mother…"
The soldier tightened its hold.
Renn tried to step forward—
But before he could even move—
The soldier drove a blade into Elira's chest.
Time froze.
Renn's breath stopped.
His body snapped.
In his hand—a small knife he used for collecting herbs.
And then—
A surge of golden light erupted from his chest.
It spread through his veins like fire breaking chains.
Renn vanished.
A blur of light.
In an instant, he reappeared beside the soldier.
A single strike.
The soldier's arm tore apart, severed mid-motion.
Another flash.
Its body collapsed.
And then—silence again.
Renn stood there, shaking slightly, golden light still flickering beneath his skin.
He turned immediately.
"No.... Mother, please hang on. I will get you to the nearest village…"
He rushed to her side.
Her breathing was weak.
Barely there.
Her eyes slowly opened.
And she spoke through broken breath.
"They are… searching…"
A cough.
"…you."
Renn's hands trembled.
"What are you talking about—stay with me, I'll—"
A shadow fell over them.
Heavy.
Cold.
A massive figure stepped into the doorway.
A soldier, larger than the rest, holding a hatchet stained with darkness.
Its presence crushed the air around them.
Renn slowly turned his head.
And for the first time…
He understood.
This wasn't an attack on Eldermire.
It was a hunt.