The night was thick and silent, save for the occasional rustle of wind through the trees. Inside one of the village cabins, Seraphian lay on the wooden floor, resting. His eyes were closed, body still—until a faint, unnatural sound made his ears twitch. His eyes snapped open.
He rose silently, stepping outside to investigate.
His eyes scanned the darkness, and there—beneath the pale moonlight—was a figure walking strangely. Shoulders hunched, pace slow and heavy. He focused… it was Elanor. Rosila's older sister.
She was walking stiffly, her entire posture distorted with fatigue or something worse. Her clothes… were drenched in blood.
Seraphian's thoughts rushed to Rosila, a flash of concern crossing his face. But his instincts made him follow Elanor instead. He trailed her quietly through the dark, narrow paths of the village.
She stopped at a cabin, the home of someone Seraphian recognized. With one brutal motion, Elanor kicked the door down.
Seraphian's eyes widened. That kind of strength… it wasn't human.
He stood in place, stunned, trying to process what was happening. Moments later, a woman's scream pierced the air.
Seraphian rushed into the cabin.
The sight before him was grotesque.
Elanor was crouched on the chest of the village's baker—the same man who used to treat her sister with open contempt—and she was biting into his neck, blood gushing out. He was barely breathing, struggling under her.
His wife and son were frozen in terror, tears streaming down their faces. The mother turned toward Seraphian, screaming. Her cry was human—frantic, desperate. And the little boy sobbed, "Azial! Please help my father!"
But Seraphian only stared. Cold. Detached. Then… he turned and walked out.
He thought back to the blood on Elanor's clothes. Did she already…? Was Rosila…?
He suddenly broke into a run. He left behind the woman's screams and the boy's cries—left them to their fate. Perhaps they'd survive. Perhaps not.
He reached Rosila's cabin.
It was quiet. The door was ajar, unsurprising, considering Elanor had left earlier. Seraphian stepped inside, heart pounding.
No blood.
Rosila was asleep, her arm draped protectively around little Arian. Peaceful. Oblivious.
But the village had already begun to stir. People would have heard the screams. It wouldn't be long before chaos erupted.
Should he wake her?
He walked over, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Rosila…"
She stirred, her eyes fluttering open. When she saw him, she blinked in surprise.
" Azial?"
He nodded, his voice low. "Your sister…"
At the mention of Elanor, Rosila jolted upright. "Elanor!? Where is she?!"
She looked around wildly, not seeing her sister anywhere. Seraphian explained what he'd witnessed.
Rosila's eyes widened with horror.
"Please… can you watch Arian for a moment?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Then, before he could respond, she dashed out the door.
Seraphian frowned. Watch a child? He had no interest in babysitting. What he wanted… was answers.
Rosila ran through the village, following the faint trails of blood. She could hear voices in the distance. Screams. Crying. Chaos.
She pushed herself faster.
Then she saw it—a crowd of villagers had gathered, holding torches, weapons… fear in their eyes. In the center, they had bound Elanor. She was growling like an animal, eyes wild, mouth stained with blood.
Rosila's heart shattered at the sight.
"She's possessed!" the village chief yelled. "It was the cursed witch's influence!"
Rosila stepped forward, her face unreadable. Her usual warmth and shyness… gone.
"Let her go," she said, her voice eerily calm.
A grieving mother sobbed nearby, tears streaming. "She ate my son… He was five! Five years old! You people don't deserve to live!"
Rosila turned toward the woman, eyes full of sorrow. It was clear… she didn't know how to respond. This wasn't something she could explain. It was far beyond her.
The villagers surged forward, shouting for punishment, calling for flames. The chief screamed again, "Burn them! Burn them both!"
But with a single glare from Rosila, they all froze.
Paralyzed.
Not a soul could move.
She walked past them, unshaken, until she reached her sister.
Elanor was still feral, shaking, teeth bared.
Rosila knelt, gripping her sister's head tightly, and stared deep into her eyes.
"Sleep, Elanor."
And just like that, Elanor's eyes rolled back, and she collapsed—unconscious.
Rosila scooped her into her arms and ran.
The cabin. She had to get them back to the cabin.
But as she ran, a glow caught her eye. Fire. From the direction of her home.
Her breath caught.
No… No no no—
Was the cabin burning? Was Arian—?
She ran faster, legs trembling with fear.
The cabin was engulfed in flames.
"No…" she whispered, a sob escaping her throat. "Please… not him…"
Her body trembled, surrounded by an aura of terrifying power. Her emotions surged wildly—until—
"Rosila!"
A familiar voice.
She turned, gasping.
It was Azial.
He stood unharmed, holding Arian safely in his arms.
Tears filled Rosila's eyes as she ran to them, throwing her arms around both of them. Her body shook with relief, and her thanks came out between sobs.
For a brief moment, Azial's cheeks reddened. He quickly looked away and muttered, "I left just in time…"
But his mind wandered—
Flashback:
After Rosila had asked him to stay with Arian, Seraphian refused to obey. He followed her silently, from the shadows. He saw everything.
Then… he noticed something. A few men had broken away from the crowd—heading toward Rosila's cabin.
Normally, he wouldn't have cared if a human child died. But this was… her brother.
He sighed, then ran toward the cabin.
They were already trying to set it ablaze. Without hesitation, Seraphian entered the fire.
He emerged moments later with the child in his arms.
The men stood stunned.
One of them shouted, "Azial is under the witch's control!"
Seraphian glared at them with disgust—and with a swift kick, sent one of them flying into the flames.
The others tried to run, but something stopped them. Something unseen.
The fire… pulled them in.
Seraphian's angelic power.
Their final expressions were nothing but terror.
Back to the present…
Elanor lay unconscious on the ground.
Rosila clutched her brother tightly, her breath shaky.
The villagers would never allow them to stay here again.
She looked at Azial and whispered, "You should just go back to your city…"
He looked at her quietly. "And where will you go?"
"I'll find somewhere…"
She turned to lift Elanor, trying to carry both her and Arian—but her body trembled. She couldn't.
Seraphian stepped forward, picked up Elanor with ease, then extended his free hand to Rosila.
"Follow me."