---
Veyle's breath came in short, frantic bursts as the grotesque frog, its massive form looming over him, screeched in fury. The creature's tongue shot toward him, its long, slimy appendage snapping through the air like a whip. He barely dodged, but in that moment, he had a plan. His eyes flicked toward the broken shards of glass embedded in the dirt. Grabbing one without hesitation, he lunged forward, shoving the jagged edge into the frog's right eye with a sickening crack.
The frog let out a wail, a guttural sound that vibrated through the ground. Its other eye bulged wide, the pupil constricting as it reeled back in pain. Veyle didn't wait for it to regain its bearings. He drove the shard deeper, twisting it until the glass shattered inside the eyeball, rupturing the putrid, yellowish fluid that leaked out in grotesque torrents. The frog shrieked again, this time with an unnatural screech that echoed through the hut.
Blood and slime mixed in the air, spattering Veyle's face as he jumped back. The frog, blinded and thrashing, whipped its tongue out in a frenzy, the appendage flailing in random directions as if it could still feel his presence. Veyle narrowly avoided the sticky tendril, but it whipped past him, grazing his side and leaving a burning, slimy residue that made his skin crawl.
Veyle let out a bitter laugh, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve, his voice dripping with mocking fury. "Not so tough now, huh?" he spat, watching as the frog recoiled in pain. "You thought you could just eat me like a snack? Well, guess what, you're the one who's gonna end up as a fucking meal."
His heart pounded in his chest, his hands already searching for something—anything—he could use to finish this nightmare. The frog's chaotic movements made it clear it was disoriented, unable to pinpoint him. This was his chance. His eyes scanned the room, and there, on the ground by the drawers, he spotted a rock, its rough edges catching the faint light of the room. He grabbed it quickly, hefting it in his hand as he aimed for the frog's gaping maw.
Veyle threw the rock with all his might, watching as it hit the frog square in the face. The creature's head snapped back, and it roared in frustration, stomping blindly toward the noise. It crashed into the wall of the hut with a violent thud, sending splinters of wood flying.
"Good," Veyle muttered to himself, gritting his teeth as he darted toward the drawers. His fingers scrambled over the rough wood, desperately searching for something to use. A knife. A blade. Anything sharp. His hand brushed against the cold steel of a kitchen knife, its handle worn from years of use. Without hesitation, he yanked it free, his heart beating faster as the frog continued to thrash.
The creature was almost upon him again, stumbling through the wreckage of the hut, its guttural growls growing louder. Veyle grinned darkly, feeling the adrenaline rush through his veins. "Come on, big boy, I'm right here!"
He charged forward, brandishing the knife with both hands, and with a savage yell, he slammed it into the frog's exposed throat. The blade sunk in deep, but the frog didn't die immediately. Instead, it gurgled in agony, mucus and blood flooding from the wound as it lashed out wildly.
Veyle didn't stop. He punched the frog in the side of its head, his knuckles slamming against its slimy skull with a sickening thud. His fist sank into the creature's flesh, but he didn't care. His mind was a haze of bloodlust. With every punch, with every strike, the frog's resistance weakened, but it kept struggling, its massive, bloated limbs flailing.
"You're still alive, huh?" Veyle grinned, twisting the knife, pulling it out, and slashing again. The creature's blood sprayed across his face as he carved through the thick, rubbery skin. He swung the blade downward, cutting deep into the frog's ribs, hearing the satisfying snap of bone beneath the steel. The frog screeched, the sound shrill and terrible, as its body began to twitch in spasms. It was losing strength—its movements more sluggish now.
Veyle stood over it, breathing heavily, blood dripping from his hands and clothes, but he wasn't done yet. He kicked the creature in the chest, sending it crashing backward into the wrecked furniture. "Come on, you son of a bitch!" he shouted, pulling the knife back as the frog sluggishly tried to crawl away.
The frog's tongue lashed out one last time, but it missed. Veyle dove onto it, slamming the blade down through the creature's skull with brutal force. The final scream that echoed from its throat was drowned out by the sickening crunch of bone and brain matter splattering against the floor.
Veyle stood over the dead creature, his breathing ragged, his body covered in its filth. The blade in his hand was slick with blood, and he wiped it off on his tattered shirt, glaring down at the grotesque carcass.
"That's right," he muttered, voice hoarse. "I'm the one who's still standing."
---
---
Veyle's boots crunched against the earth as he circled the edge of the lake, his eyes scanning the darkness. The moonlight illuminated the rippling water, casting long shadows across the trees, but there was no sign of Seren. His stomach twisted with a mix of frustration and worry, even though he'd tried not to let it show.
"Where the hell did she go?" he muttered under his breath, his voice rough with frustration. His fingers gripped the hilt of his blade instinctively, though his grip wasn't as tight as it usually was. It was clear—he wasn't just worried about her safety. He was worried about something deeper, something he couldn't quite place.
He moved further along the water's edge, peering through the thick underbrush, and then—something caught his eye.
There, emerging from the dark shadows of the forest, he spotted a figure rushing toward him, her silhouette outlined by the moonlight.
"Seren?" Veyle called out, his voice cracking slightly, but he couldn't hide the relief that flooded him at the sight of her.
Without a word, Seren bolted toward him. Her footsteps were quick, urgent. Before he could react, she threw herself into his arms with overwhelming force, her small frame pressing against him. Her face was buried in his chest, and he could feel her trembling.
She didn't say anything. Instead, her hands gripped the fabric of his tunic, and her body shook with emotion. Veyle stiffened for a second, his arms slowly wrapping around her. He didn't need words to understand what this was—her fear, her desperation. It was all there in the way she held him.
After a long moment, Seren pulled back just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were wide, pleading, and then her hands moved quickly, signing. "Don't make me hide again." Her fingers trembled with the urgency of her message. "I want to stay by your side. Please."
Veyle's heart clenched as he watched her, the weight of her silent plea sinking deep into him. He didn't speak right away. He didn't have to. The emotions were clear in his expression, even without words.
He squeezed her shoulders gently, trying to convey his own unspoken feelings. His voice was low and rough when he finally spoke, though it was softer than usual. "I'm not going anywhere. You're safe with me."
Seren's gaze softened at his words. She seemed to relax, just a little, though the worry still lingered in her eyes. She then turned her head, her focus moving over to where her house used to stand. The ruins were unmistakable, the broken walls and charred remnants of what had once been her home now only an echo of its former state.
Seren's hands fell to her sides as she stared at the destruction. Slowly, she signed again, her fingers moving with quiet precision. "I guess this place was getting old."
Veyle watched her, his gaze following hers to the ruins. The weight of her words hit him harder than he expected. He'd noticed it too—the house had been in a slow decline for a while, the walls weak, the structure creaking under the strain. But seeing it completely destroyed like this... it felt wrong.
His voice was hushed as he spoke, the anger in his tone clear despite his best efforts to stay calm. "You didn't deserve this, Seren. None of this was your fault."
Seren gave him a small, sad smile before her gaze fell to the ground. It was brief, but it told him everything he needed to know—she didn't want to dwell on it, didn't want to show how much it hurt her. But it was clear that her home, the place she had called her own, was now lost to her.
She turned back to him, her expression soft but resilient. Seren then signed again, her movements slower now, almost contemplative. "I have nothing left here... but I still have you."
The words—though silent—rang loudly in his mind. His grip tightened around her shoulders as he pulled her into a close, protective hug. He didn't need to speak; his actions said enough.
"I'm here. And I'm not letting go." Veyle murmured, his words firm, as if promising something he'd never break.
Seren nodded against him, a tiny shudder passing through her. She didn't need to speak, and neither did he. They both understood the weight of the silence, the unsaid promise between them.
Together, they stood at the edge of the ruined house, the moonlight casting long shadows around them, but the bond between them felt more real than ever.
---
Seren pulled away from Veyle slightly, her eyes brightening with a new idea. She signed quickly, her fingers moving with purpose. "What do you say we go to the capital?"
Veyle blinked in surprise, his brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of the gesture. "Huh? The capital?" His voice was thick with confusion, though a hint of curiosity flickered in his eyes. The capital? It seemed so distant, so far removed from their current troubles.
Seren nodded enthusiastically, her hands moving faster now. "Yeah!" Her expression was full of excitement, a stark contrast to the exhaustion that had weighed her down moments ago.
Veyle's lips twitched into a faint smirk as he looked at her, her infectious energy beginning to reach him. "It could be fun, huh?" he said, his tone light, though the thought of the journey still felt uncertain. But Seren's enthusiasm made him consider it more seriously.
She nodded again, her eyes shining with hope. "Fun," she signed, and then gave him a small, playful smile.
Veyle couldn't help but chuckle softly, the tension easing off his shoulders. "Alright. I guess we'll see what the capital has to offer."
Seren's grin grew wider, and she threw her arms around him again in a brief but heartfelt hug. The warmth of the moment wasn't lost on him—this was the first spark of excitement he'd seen in her since everything started to crumble around them.
"Let's get going then," Veyle said, though his words were more to himself than to her. He glanced back at the destroyed house, the remnants of her past life still haunting the area. "We could use a fresh start... maybe the capital will be the change we need."