Ki stood frozen. His hands trembled, the dagger slick in his grip. The old woman lay sprawled on the floor, still, her eyes half-closed, blood pooling beneath her like a black mirror. The thin girl knelt beside the corpse, shoulders shaking, sobbing so loudly it crawled under Ki's skin. Gold coins were scattered around them, rolling slowly on the creaking wooden boards, glinting like they were laughing at him.
Ki didn't move. Didn't breathe. His thoughts fractured like shattered glass. He could feel every sticky patch of blood drying on his fingers, the sting on his cheek where the barbaric man had struck him, the cold realization sinking deeper than any wound: he had crossed a line he couldn't walk back from.
A sound trembled through the air. A shuffle. A boot dragging. Then another. Whispered voices outside the doorway grew sharper, alarm turning into fear, fear turning into rage. The villagers rushed in, filling the narrow space with bodies and weapons and hatred. Their faces twisted in horror when they saw the blood, when they saw Ki, when they saw what he had done.
Pitchforks. Rusted blades. Clubs. All raised. All pointed at him.
He could barely hear their shouts. His world had sunk into a slow, suffocating heartbeat. His vision flickered at the edges. His stomach twisted with dread. But the thought that kept him upright, the only thing that kept his knees from buckling, was simple:
He had to see them again.Zephyr. Septh.He had to see them again.
Even if he had to crawl across the world, drenched in blood and mud and guilt, he was going to reach them. There was no going back. If he wanted to survive, he had to do whatever it took.
Ki lifted his eyes, blank, empty, but unwavering. The villagers flinched like they were staring at a monster wearing a boy's skin.
Far from there, on the same day, soldiers arrived at the village. Their captain, a knight with long pale-blond hair and polished silver armor, stood at the center of the muddy road. The place looked abandoned at first glance, but the smell… the smell told a different story. Rot. Blood. Something worse layered beneath.
The soldiers followed the stench to the inn. Flies blanketed the doorway, a black buzzing curtain trembling with hunger. Inside waited carnage. Bodies piled together, limbs tangled, blood dried in streaks across the walls. Not a single living adult remained.
Except her.
A thin girl sat in the corner of the room, hugging her knees, eyes glassy and unfocused. Her lips quivered as she muttered, "I'm sorry… please… please spare my life… I'm so sorry…" Over and over, like a broken music box.
The silver knight stared at her. His expression barely shifted. No pity. No disgust. Just cold calculation. He turned away and gave a single order. "Search for clues."
The soldiers swarmed the inn. Upstairs, they found a barbaric man's corpse sprawled over a bloody floorboard. Next to him, hanging from a rack, was a jacket… small, worn, foreign to this place.
A soldier took the jacket to the knight. Without a word, the knight tossed it to the waiting hounds. They sniffed it once, barked sharply, and bolted out of the inn, dragging their handlers with them.
The hunt began.
But one soldier, Drake, lingered. His helmet hung at his side as he watched the trembling girl huddled in the corner. Her eyes didn't focus. She didn't even seem aware of the world anymore. Something in him twisted. Maybe pity, maybe guilt, maybe just the last scrap of humanity he hadn't lost yet.
He crouched beside her and gently placed a cloak over her shaking shoulders.
"Come on," he whispered. "You're coming with me."
And while the hounds raced into the forest, chasing Ki's faint scent, Drake carried the broken girl out of the inn.