"I am going to kill you!" Marcus chased after his friends, his wooden sword swinging wildly in the air.
Jenna screamed in exaggerated terror, laughing as she ducked behind a barrel. "You'll have to catch me first, Sir Marcus!"
The others shrieked with laughter, scattering across the cobbled square beneath the fading amber sky. Merchants were packing up their stalls, the smell of fresh bread and roasted nuts still lingering in the air. The warm glow of the setting sun bathed Millbrook in golden light, casting long shadows that danced around the children.
Marcus darted around the barrel, determined to catch his quarry. His breath came fast, his small boots slapping the stone as he charged through the market square. "No villain escapes my justice!"
Jenna squealed again, barely evading him, while the others clapped and cheered. For a moment, the world was nothing but laughter, joy, and innocent games beneath the painted sky.
The sun hung low over Millbrook, casting long golden rays across the fields as children's laughter filled the air.
Marcus ran breathlessly across the village square, his wooden sword clutched tightly in his small hands as he charged after his friends. The cobbled streets echoed with the thudding of feet and the shrieks of pretend battle.
"Get him, Marcus!" yelled his friend Jenna, laughing as she ducked behind a barrel.
"You'll never escape the great knight of Millbrook!" Marcus shouted dramatically, swinging his sword and chasing after her.
The other children giggled, weaving between stalls and carts as evening merchants packed up their wares. Bakers offered leftover bread to passing villagers. Farmers loaded crates of vegetables onto wooden carts. The sweet aroma of roasted nuts and honey cakes drifted through the air. The peaceful rhythm of village life hummed around them—a world untouched by the horrors Marcus only knew from bedtime stories.
His mother's voice finally called him home. "Marcus! Supper!"
"Coming, Mama!" he shouted, waving goodbye to his friends. "Tomorrow we fight again!"
As he darted toward his family's small cottage near the edge of the village, he barely noticed the faint tremor beneath his feet. A strange ripple of unease passed through the ground like the breath of some distant beast.
Inside, the fire crackled softly as his mother ladled stew into bowls. His father, still wearing his blacksmith apron, smiled at Marcus as he entered. "Another victory today, knight?"
Marcus grinned, setting his wooden sword carefully by the door. "Of course, Father. The bandits never stood a chance."
They ate together as the sun dipped fully below the horizon. Outside, the wind carried the gentle creak of wooden signs and the distant hoot of owls. Everything felt safe. Normal.
But then came the scream.
It was sharp and unnatural, slicing through the calm like a blade.
Marcus froze, his spoon halfway to his mouth. His parents exchanged a look of immediate dread.
Another scream followed. Then another. And then a chorus of them, rising in pitch and panic, rolling across the village like a terrible wave.
Marcus jolted to his feet and ran to the window, heart pounding. What he saw outside would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Darkness poured into Millbrook like a living flood.
Not the mischievous imps from stories—but real demons. Writhing things of shadow and fang. Creatures with too many limbs, long serrated claws, glowing eyes that blinked in patterns unnatural to any living beast. They slithered and crawled, creeping through alleys and doorways, scaling rooftops with spidery grace.
And at the center of the horror was something worse.
A massive creature of roiling black smoke and shifting forms. Its body pulsed and folded into itself, splitting into smaller masses before merging back together, as though struggling to contain its own existence. It roared, a deep guttural sound that made the ground tremble beneath them.
"The Enforcers," his mother whispered, appearing beside him, her face pale. "Someone must have called them. They'll come. They must."
The demons were everywhere now. Marcus watched as Mr. Teller, the old baker, ran screaming through the streets, only to be dragged into the shadows. Homes burst into flame where the creatures touched them, fire spreading like hungry fingers through dry thatch.
And then — like answered prayers — the Enforcers arrived.
Forty of them descended from the heavens, streaks of silver and white fire trailing behind them. Their armored forms slammed into the ground with the force of meteors, scattering the nearest demons. Enchanted runes flashed across their shining plate, weapons humming with barely-contained power.
They formed a wide battle line, shields raised, blades drawn, staffs glowing with swirling light. At their head stood a tall woman with golden hair flowing beneath her helm, gripping a radiant warstaff crackling with energy.
The village square blazed with sudden brilliance as their magic ignited the night.
"By the Light of Valor!" she shouted, and her voice boomed across the village.
The first wave of demons shrieked and lunged—but the Enforcers met them with steel and fire.
Lightning arced from staff to staff, splitting beasts mid-air. Flames burst from enchanted blades, incinerating the smaller creatures in waves of white-hot fury. One Enforcer leapt high, spinning through the air as twin swords sliced a demon into ribbons. Another planted his staff into the earth, summoning a shockwave that blasted the surrounding horrors into ash.
For a time, the battle was glorious.
"They're winning!" Marcus breathed, eyes wide.
Indeed, the Enforcers were pushing forward, driving the creatures back toward the town's center. Demon bodies lay scattered, black ichor sizzling where it touched holy wards. The great central demon reeled from the assault, recoiling as arcs of pure light lanced into its shifting mass.
"We're saved," his father whispered.
But the horror was far from over.
The great demon shrieked—a long, piercing cry—and its massive body quivered violently. Then, with a wet tearing sound, it began to split. Chunks of its mass peeled away, solidifying into dozens of new creatures, each smaller but no less deadly. They burst forth like hornets from a hive, screeching as they charged.
The Enforcers faltered.
"What is this?!" one shouted.
"They're multiplying!" another yelled.
The new swarm struck like a tidal wave. Enforcers were pulled down as dozens of smaller demons overwhelmed them. Shadow tendrils coiled around armored limbs, dragging warriors into the seething mass.
A lance of black energy burst from the central beast, skewering three Enforcers in an instant. Lightning bolts arced back in response, but for every demon slain, two more seemed to rise.
The golden-haired commander's voice rang out again. "Hold formation! Drive them back! Do not break!"
Her warstaff spun In wide arcs, releasing pulses of cleansing light that disintegrated entire clusters of demons, but even she could not stop what came next.
One Enforcer was dragged screaming into a swirling portal of shadow. Another had his helm torn away, his face consumed by writhing tendrils. Explosions of dark energy burst across the battlefield, sending bodies flying.
The tide had turned.
Twenty Enforcers fell in rapid succession. Their once-glorious line buckled under the relentless assault.
"They're losing…" his mother whispered, voice cracking.
The surviving Enforcers regrouped around their commander, forming a tight defensive circle as the village burned around them. Their blades still flashed, their spells still flared — but their strength was waning.
The great demon pulsed again, growing larger as it reabsorbed fallen fragments of itself, feeding on the chaos.
"We can't hold!" one Enforcer cried.
The commander raised her crystal communicator to her lips, speaking rapidly. Marcus couldn't hear her words, but the finality in her voice struck deep.
Moments later, she raised her staff high, releasing a blinding dome of light that knocked back the nearest demons.
Then the order was given.
"Retreat!"
The remaining twenty rose into the air, lifted by their flight spells, ascending into the smoky sky. They soared toward the distant lights of Valorheart, the capital glimmering like a jewel beyond the hills — safe, protected, untouched.
"They're leaving us," Marcus choked, his small fists clenched against the window.
His father's voice was hollow. "They're protecting the capital. The nobles. The merchants. Not us."
The demons turned their attention to the survivors.
Their cottage groaned as shadow-tendrils slithered under doors and through cracks, seeking fresh victims.
"We have to run," his father said desperately, but they both knew there was nowhere to go.
His mother grabbed Marcus, her eyes wild but focused. "Listen to me, my son. Listen carefully."
"Mom, please—"
"I'm going to cast a cloaking spell," she whispered urgently. "It will hide you from them — but it will take everything I have."
Tears burned his eyes. "There has to be another way."
"The Enforcers are not coming back," his father said, pressing his blacksmith's hammer into Marcus's small hands. "Remember us, son. Remember what they did."
The door burst Inward.
The demons flooded the room.
His mother's spell erupted into golden light, wrapping Marcus in a cocoon of shimmering magic. Inside, he could see everything, but nothing could touch him.
He watched helplessly as his father swung the hammer with desperate fury, taking down several creatures before being swallowed by the horde.
His mother stood tall, her light burning brighter even as the shadows closed around her. She smiled one last time at Marcus, whispered words he could not hear — and gave the final surge of her life force to the spell.
The shadows consumed her.
The demons searched the house, their claws swiping through the space Marcus occupied, unable to sense him. One by one, they left, joining the feeding frenzy outside.
And then there was silence.
The cocoon faded. The light was gone.
Marcus stood alone amidst the ruins of his home. The bodies of his parents lay twisted among the wreckage. Beyond the smoldering remains of Millbrook, the lights of Valorheart glowed peacefully in the distance.
He was ten years old.
And he would never forget.
The Enforcers had chosen who was worth saving.
Someday, he would choose too.