The acrid stench of burning wood and flesh still clung to the air.
Kael stood in the center of the smoldering ruin, the once-vibrant village now reduced to skeletal frames and blackened earth. Smoke drifted lazily upward, curling into the gray sky like the souls of the departed, ascending in silence. He clenched his fists as a light breeze carried the scent of death past his nose — a reminder of what he'd failed to protect.
His sister's ribbon, stained but intact, was still tied around his wrist.
He hadn't spoken since the massacre. Not to the stranger who saved him. Not to the crows circling above. Not to the dead.
Only his breath — shallow, uneven — broke the silence.
"You're not ready," the voice finally said.
Kael turned slightly. The man stood tall, shadowed against the dying light. His presence was like a carved blade — sharp, precise, merciless. Dark hair swept behind his shoulders, and his eyes, cold as winter steel, reflected no pity.
"I don't care," Kael said. His voice cracked like dry bark. "I want to fight."
The man knelt near the corpse of a fallen villager. Gently, he closed the man's eyes with two fingers, then stood again.
"You want revenge. That's not the same."
Kael's gaze dropped to his blood-crusted hands. "They took everything."
"And they'll take more. Unless you learn to control what's inside you."
That stopped Kael cold.
He hadn't told anyone.
He hadn't even understood it himself.
That sensation — that searing pulse that tore through his veins during the attack. The way his vision bled red. The way his own body moved, unbidden, carving through shadows with unnatural speed.
He remembered the way one of the demons hesitated before him, just for a second. Its black eyes had widened — in recognition, not fear.
"What… did they see in me?" Kael asked softly.
The man turned, the wind lifting his cloak.
"They saw what I saw," he said. "You're Forsaken."
Kael flinched. "I'm not—!"
"Not a demon," the man interrupted, "but not fully human either. Your blood is tainted. Your soul fractured. That's why you survived when the others didn't."
Kael shook his head. "My family—my sister—she was human. I'm human."
The man stepped forward, slowly, deliberately. He stopped only inches from Kael and raised a calloused hand to Kael's chest. "Maybe once," he said, pressing a finger to the boy's heart. "But something woke up inside you. Something old. And it will consume you if you let it."
Kael staggered back, heart pounding.
"You said you wanted to fight," the man continued. "Then come with me. Learn to use that cursed blood of yours before it devours everything that's left of you."
"…Who are you?"
The man turned and walked away.
"I'm the one who kills monsters. Even the ones that wear human skin."
Three Days Later
The road to the mountains was unforgiving — winding, steep, lined with graves of past travelers who underestimated its cruelty. Kael followed in silence, each step a test of will. His muscles screamed. His wounds had barely closed. But the fire inside him — that hunger for vengeance — kept him upright.
The man, who still hadn't given a name, led the way effortlessly, his black cloak fluttering like a specter in the wind.
At night, they camped in silence. By day, they moved like ghosts through the forest, avoiding roads, crossing rivers, and scaling cliffs Kael had once thought impossible.
"You won't reach them by strength alone," the man said one morning as Kael struggled to lift a training blade. "You need focus. Control. Purpose."
Kael spat blood onto the ground. "I have purpose."
"Revenge isn't purpose. It's poison."
The words stung worse than the bruises.
But something inside Kael whispered that the man was right.
That night, the dreams returned.
Fire. Screams. His sister calling his name.
And then… darkness. Not the absence of light, but a presence — a cold, crawling shadow that wrapped around his body like chains.
A voice echoed from within it.
"You are mine."
Kael woke with a scream, his chest heaving. His hands trembled. Black veins had crept halfway up his forearm.
He stared at them, heart racing.
They faded slowly, melting back into his skin.
"…What am I becoming?"
The man approached from the edge of the campfire, his gaze unreadable. "You're becoming what you were meant to be. The only question is—will you be the hunter, or the hunted?"
Elsewhere, In the Depths
Beneath the scorched earth, in a chamber of bone and silence, a figure stirred.
Eyes opened — crimson and ancient.
A demon sat upon a throne of skulls, head tilted slightly.
"He awakens," it whispered.
Another creature knelt nearby, its mouth filled with needle-like teeth. "Should we kill him now?"
"No," said the demon. "Let the boy come. Let him climb. Let him believe he has a choice."
It smiled.
"And then… let him fall."