The village was too quiet.
Not the usual Geryhill hush—the muttering wind, the coughing chimneys, the distant clang of tools swallowed by distance.
No.
This was the kind of silence that followed a scream too loud to leave an echo. A silence that swallowed you whole.
I stood frozen at the gate, eyes locked on the blood trails snaking into the village. It looked like someone had tried to crawl—then gave up halfway through.
The air reeked of copper and something fouler. Not just blood—something twisted, metallic and sharp, like the scent of iron turned rancid.
My legs refused to move. My breath turned shallow, ragged. And in that moment, I said something no Hollowden had ever dared whisper—not even when staring death in the eye:
"Holy shit… I'm scared."
Before I could take another step or gather a single thought, I saw them.
Bodies.
Scattered like shattered dolls along the blood-soaked path—some slumped against crumbling walls, others dumped in heaps. Limbs twisted at grotesque angles. Blood had painted the village like some nightmarish mural—drag marks, handprints, smears. I swallowed hard, my voice caught in my throat. The air was heavy—so thick with iron and rot that breathing became a battle.
I stumbled forward, and familiar faces came into view. The neighbor's little boy still clutched his wooden sword, now drenched red. The girl from the bakery. Her mother. Hollowed out at the chest. Eyes wide open. Frozen in time.
I didn't scream. I couldn't.
Fear had swallowed my voice whole.
Somehow, my legs carried me farther, past corpses and crimson puddles, until I realized where I was.
Home.
My house stood crooked in the distance—door flung open, silence leaking from every corner. And then I saw them.
My parents.
Lying limp in the dirt, limbs splayed like broken marionettes. And hunched over their bodies was that thing—the monster from the forest. Its shadow cloaked their still forms as it fed. Claws tore through flesh like parchment. It chewed with sickening delight.
And I stood there, unmoving, watching it eat them.
I did not stir.
Not one spasm. Not one misplaced breath. I stood there, enveloped by silence, untouched by what was before me—my parents being consumed. My brain should've broken. My knees should've given out. But they didn't. Instead, I simply. watched. Not because of courage. Not because of shock. But because of survival.
The beast crunched, muttering softly as meat ripped between its serrated teeth. And then—its head jerked.
It turned.
Two shining eyes fastened onto the door. Onto me.
I did not breathe.
The blood in my veins howled, but I reached deep and slammed it shut—the bloodline gift throbbed. A flicker under my skin. A spell of quiet. I disappeared from its perception—not from view, not from location, but from significance. I became. nothing.
But keeping it—this long—was like drowning in quiet.
My eyes went blurry. My knees shook. My teeth were so tightly clenched I thought they would crack. The corners of the ability wore thin. One misstep, and I'd be flesh on the ground. But the monster. just looked for one more second.
Then it spun around, licked its claws and disappeared into the corridor.
I fell to my knees, fingers sinking into the earth. Breath finally freed itself in a shaking gasp.
.Guess that's how I die," I growled, voice hollow, devoid of hope. "Ripped to pieces by a demon. Just like them."
Then the broken window clinked.
Glass crunched.
Someone—young, perhaps twenty-five—slid through the shattered frame and landed with a soft grunt. His coat was ripped, eyes keen. He halted the moment he noticed me, then gazed at the slaughter beyond.
"W-What the hell…" he breathed, wide-eyed. "Kid… how the hell are you still alive? And why aren't you screaming?"
I stared up at him, empty.
"I think I already did. On the inside."
The man dropped next to me with a soft thud, his presence quiet amidst the chaos surrounding us. He knelt, eyes scanning mine with an odd, unflinching gentleness.
"Hey… you're okay now," he said quietly, putting a firm hand on my shoulder. "You don't need to be afraid. I've got you."
For a moment, I nearly believed him.
But fate never allowed peace to prevail for long.
A harsh hiss shattered the air like a curse.
The creature had returned.
I leapt, instinct wresting control from my body. I backed up and fell hard into the floor, my hand flying to my mouth before I could even scream. I clamped down, trying to still my own hysteria. My chest ached as if it would shatter.
The man didn't move.
He walked deliberately in front of me like a body of iron. "It's okay," he repeated, voice unwavering, too calm. "Be still. Don't move."
The beast sneaked around the corner, eyes aglow with hot coals, clawed limbs quivering, steam-smelling breath. It noticed us.
He tapped the side of his sword.
Once.
The sword shimmered lightly. Then it spoke.
"You summon, holder?"
I stood stock-still. My fear warped into wonder.
You're… hearing this, right?" I breathed softly to no one, wide-eyed.
The man didn't respond. He instead lifted the sword and breathed softly something that had no place here.
"Fall off the cherry blossoms.
The world changed in a moment. Blooms of petals emerged from the steel itself, pale pink and glowing. They whirlwind into the air, creating an illusion throughout the space—transfiguring the gore-stained terror into something unreal and peaceful. The monster hesitated mid-stride, confused, head tossing gently beneath the weird trance.
And then the sword struck.
It whipped forward quicker than thought, cutting through the illusion and the beast.
The monster's head came cleanly off its shoulders with a wet hiss. It landed on the floor ahead of the body.
Silence fell again.
The petals dissipated.
I leaned against the wall, heart still pounding as I stared at the jerking corpse.
The man turned to me, now relaxed. "What's your name?" he said.
".Auren," I whispered.
A slight smile appeared on his face.
"Auren," he said, slowly, "would you like to be my apprentice?"
Even in the middle of all that death, something flickered in my chest—strange, painful, and alive.
"…Yes."
We did not talk for a time.
Our only course of action for the moment was to put this destroyed village behind us once and for all, as we approached the gates, I started finally to catch my breath after so long I could breath normally, both myself and the man were thin so we were able to slip through the gate easily enough.
The trees towered high and empty above us, and with each step across the forest ground came a feeling of walking on thin bones. Auren stayed close behind the man—still unknown, still dreamlike—each breath hesitant, each sound danger. The moonlight cut down in spatters, casting pale shadows that writhed like living things.
We encountered the first demon hardly twenty minutes in.
It knelt beside a dead tree, stooped and muttering in some broken language, its jaws working although nothing came from its mouth. I stood stock-still.
The man raised a single finger to his lips. A single keen look was sufficient. We moved around behind, quiet but quick, the monster none the wiser.
Another dangled from a tree branch, half-blind, its tongue flopping against the bark as if savoring nightmares. Again, they swerved wide.
By the third demon—a tall, bony creature gouging flesh from the ribcage of a deer—my legs were all but giving out. But the man continued on, unyielding as ever. He did not unsheathe his sword again. He didn't have to. His silence was like a shield, and for some reason, so I had every reason to believe it.
At last, we burst through the final patch of trees.
Down a winding, rock path, dim lights glowed in the distance—lanterns. Welcoming yellow lights swaying in the breeze. And beyond them, a village nestled in the embrace of the mountain, encircled by rock walls and thatched in wooden roofs, smoke curling from chimneys into the darkness.
"Welcome," the man said at last, low-voiced, "to Graft."
I blinked. "Graft?" because I'd been so accustomed to being in one spot I didn't even recognize that there was an other village or town closer to us.
The man nodded. "A village overlooked by the majority, only by those who claim it as their home. We don't till, we don't do much trade. We slay demons."
His footsteps echoed now as they walked in through the large gates. There were guards, but they didn't lift weapons. They simply nodded to the man, as if they had been waiting for him.
"This is home," he went on. "Where we call home, if you still plan to honor that 'yes' from before."
I paused, looking out at the villagers.
Individuals marched along with swords slung over their shoulders, fangs, claws, and bones held in their hands like battle trophies. A woman honed an axe as wide as the torso of a man. A child roughly my size darted past wearing a crossbow on his back.
It was a stone, steel, and purpose-built village.
"You never told me your name," I whispered, voice gentle.
The man stopped at the base of a broad stone edifice. The windows were of glass, the door heavy with chains within. He turned with a soft smile.
"Name's Kael," he said. "Kael Morren. And this is where your life turns, Auren Hollowden."
I swallowed hard.
Behind me, the forest still breathed.
Before me, a new world lay open.
And for the first time in my life, I wasn't alone.
I sat beside the fire that evening, gazing into the dancing flames, uncertain whether I was awake or living in some waking dream. The man—Kael, he called himself—had provided me with a blanket, a hot meal, and a corner of his cabin in Graft. But nothing could cover the chill within me. When I blinked, I saw my parents' empty bodies. I heard the sound of wet tearing. I felt the crushing load of being alone. Kael didn't ask me questions. He simply sat with the fire, staring at it as if it told truths he was too exhausted to verbalize.
"You did well," he said once, in a low tone. "Most grownups wouldn't have made it through that."
I wished to thank him, but I nodded instead.
Finally, I glanced around the cabin—a modest room with arrayed weapons, maps, and scrolls. The walls were adorned with demon bones and odd masks, as if he accumulated death and wore it as armor. That's when he knelt beside me and put his hand on my shoulder.
"I wasn't lying when I invited you to be my apprentice. I saw something there, Auren. You didn't flee. You paralyzed—but you didn't scream. And you utilized something… bloodline magic, wasn't it?"
I hesitated. "I don't know what it was. I just. didn't want to die."
He smiled at that. Not mockingly—knowingly. "That's a good enough reason to fight."
Before I could answer, the room went dark. The fire crackled furiously, then went blue.
Kael was standing at once. "Stay here," he commanded, unsheathing his sword.
But it wasn't the fire. I felt it too—an acute pressure settling in like a second skin, heavy and constricting.
Then the window exploded.
I leapt behind the table, heart in throat.
But nothing came through.
Only one object rolled across the floor.
A smooth, black orb, cracked and vibrating.
Kael stepped forward, scowling. "No. this can't be right."
I slithered closer, curiosity overcoming my terror.
"What is it?" I asked him.
He did not look at me when he replied.
"It's a demon core—but not just any type."
I leaned in, attracted to the thing's weak hum. The finish was glossy and broken, as if the thing contained something within wanting to escape.
Kael was rigid, his gaze fixed on the sphere. "She's back," he said.
I blinked. "Who?"
The fire sizzled as if it was waiting to breathe. Kael didn't reply immediately. He simply extended a hand and touched a small rune etched into the wall and gave it two raps. A peculiar mechanical click sounded in the room, and the heat from the hearth faded.
"You weren't supposed to see this yet," he muttered, now facing me. "Not now. Not before your training begins."
I stood up slowly, perplexed but on guard. "Who is she?" I persisted.
Kael regarded me, his face inscrutable. "My first apprentice. The core is her sign. She only sends it if she's come back from a mission… or if something's gone amiss."
"Returned from where?"
"From wherever the dead whisper and the demons congregate in silence."
I shivered. I didn't get to interrogate further because a gentle tap echoed against the door—not frantic, not urgent. Hushed. Controlled.
Kael instinctively reached for his sword. Not through fear, but respect.
"She doesn't knock unless she's bleeding or angry," he growled under his breath.
Then he turned to me with a gravity I had not witnessed before. "Auren… whatever it is that goes down, don't say anything until I tell you to. I'll do the talking. You got it?"
I nodded, hardly being able to swallow the lump in my throat.
Kael went to the door. The moment he opened it, the wind outside stopped dead, like the air itself was waiting.
A figure stood in the doorway—tall, shrouded in a cloak of ash-gray material. She filled the room without even entering it. I couldn't see her face through the hood, but I saw the shine of the blade strapped across her back, black and thin as a shadow made real.
She didn't say anything.
Kael gazed at her for an extended moment, then finally spoke.
"Welcome home."
Still no word. Only the rustle of her boots along the edge of the doorway. She strode past me with no look, but something within her… it wrapped around my nerves like a tightening fiber.
Kael turned back to me as she disappeared into the room beyond, speaking in a hushed voice.
"I was waiting before I told you about her." He paused, face serious. "But you'll have to know everything—soon."
The door to the rear room softly shut.
And in that instant, I understood something plain and horrifying:
Whatever reality I believed I was walking into…
It had already been forged by individuals such as her.
Individuals who did not return the same.