(David's pov)
Sleep finally dragged me under… but it brought no peace.
The fire crackled beside me, yet inside my dreams the world was cold
cold and empty like a corpse left beneath winter soil.
The visions returned.
Those towering beings again… the ones wrapped in shadow and ruin, their bodies shaped like nightmares carved from ancient stone. They stood in the endless ruins, unmoving, watching. But this time… one of them was closer.
Right in front of me.
Its eyes
or whatever remained of them
were hollow pits that seemed to swallow light.
Its flesh hung like peeled skin, stretched thin over bone, torn in places like it had been stitched together and then ripped apart again.
I felt myself take a step toward it.
But when I moved forward…
the creature drifted backward.
No
not drifting.
The entire world was shifting, pulling distance between us, like reality itself refused to let me reach it.
"Wait…" I heard myself whisper, though I didn't understand why.
The being tilted its head slowly, its neck crackling like snapped branches. There was no mouth on its face… yet somehow I felt it speaking directly inside my skull. A vibration.
A pressure. A soundless voice scraping against the deepest part of me.
My chest tightened.
My legs trembled.
I wasn't sure if I was walking toward it…
or being dragged.
I reached out a hand.
And the world pulled farther away.
The creature lifted its own hand
long, bony fingers with skin tearing at the joints
as if mirroring me.
And for a single heartbeat…
I felt something familiar.
Like I had seen this thing before.
Like its presence was carved into my blood.
I didn't know if I was staring at a monster…
or a memory
Just as our hands were about to meet…
the ground beneath me gave way.
It wasn't falling
it was dragging.
The darkness swallowed my legs first, then my waist, then my chest.
Cold, rotten hands erupted from the pit and clawed at me, pulling, gripping, trying to tear me downward into whatever hell waited below.
I looked up.
The hollow-eyed being leaned closer, its hand still reaching for me.
Its mouth was motionless… but I felt it trying to speak
a vibration against my skull, too distant to understand.
"Wait!" I tried to shout, but the darkness snapped shut.
I woke choking on my own breath.
Sweat drenched my face. My lungs scraped for air as if I'd been drowning. I pressed both hands to my head, trying to calm the storm inside it. The fire beside me had dimmed into dying embers, but the cold in my bones wasn't from the night… it was from that dream.
What was that thing?
Why does it feel so real?
Why does it feel like it knows me…?
Confusion twisted through my mind like a storm.
But beneath it, something else
a decision.
There was only one way to end this torment.
Only one way to stop running from a past I couldn't remember.
I would find the truth.
About the dreams.
About the darkness inside me.
About who or what I really am.
I pushed myself to my feet, stepped out of the cave, and began walking deeper into the forest. The sun was rising through the trees, scattering gold across the leaves.
A new day.
And the beginning of my hunt for answers.
(Back at the Village)
Dawn crawled over the ruined village, revealing what the night had tried to hide. Homes lay in splinters, smoke drifted lazily from the remains of burned carts, and the ground was scarred as though lightning had torn through it.
Among the wounded and the frightened, the master of the village limped across the debris, clutching his bruised side. Every step hurt, and every stare from the villagers cut deeper than any wound. They looked at him not as a leader, but as a man who had lost control of everything.
He refused to accept that.
He pushed open the door to the old council house, breathing raggedly. Inside, the room was dim, lit only by the gray morning light leaking through cracks in the wall. A long wooden desk stood against the far side, ink pots scattered over it, and stacks of parchment piled beside them.
His hands trembled as he sat.
He dipped the quill into ink, forcing his fingers to stop shaking long enough to write.
The words spilled out in frantic strokes:
To the Capital Watchtower,
Our village has suffered an attack unlike any before.
A boy—a slave—has awakened a monstrous power.
He carries the eyes of corruption: one red, one white. In moments of rage, they turn black as the darkness itself.
He unleashed a blast that sent our men flying and left many injured, a slaves and a woman were killed by his hand. His strength surpasses anything mortal, and his speed defies reason.
I believe him to be a demon in human flesh.
A threat to Valnic and all its surrounding villages.
He has fled into the forest. If he reaches another settlement, the consequences may be catastrophic.
Send reinforcements immediately.
—Master Jeric, South Village
He sealed the letter with the village's iron stamp and handed it to the courier waiting outside.
"Ride fast," Jeric ordered, voice low. "Do not stop for anything."
The courier nodded once and sped off toward the capital.
The master exhaled shakily, watching the rider disappear into the forest path.
The village lay quiet behind him, wounded and afraid.
He told himself he had done the right thing.
But the truth gnawed at him:
not even the capital understood what he had seen.
As far as he believed…
(David's POV)
The sun had climbed to its highest throne, burning through the canopy and stabbing heat into my skin. I had been walking for hours… maybe more. Time blurred with every step. My legs trembled, then ached, then finally surrendered.
I remember the forest spinning, green, gold, and shadow and then nothing.
When my eyes opened again, I was staring at a wooden ceiling. Rough planks. A faint smell of smoke and herbs. I lay on a bed… soft enough to feel unreal beneath my bruised back.
Where am I?
I pushed myself up, still dizzy, gripping the edge of the bed like it might vanish if I didn't hold on. My body protested with every movement, but I forced my legs to stand.
A door stood slightly open. Light seeped through the cracks.
I stepped outside.
Fresh air hit me first, cool, earthy, heavy with morning dew. Then the silence. A calmness I had never known… not in the village, not in the fields, not anywhere.
An isolated farm stretched before me, hidden deep in the forest like a secret the world forgot. A wooden fence circled a small yard, and beyond it, rows of vegetables swayed gently in the breeze.
And in the middle of those rows… stood a man.
Bent over the field, sleeves rolled up, moving with quiet purpose as he harvested vegetables with a knife that glinted in the sunlight. His movements were slow, steady… almost peaceful.
I stared at him, unsure whether to speak or turn back inside.
Was he the one who brought me here?
Why would he help me?
The man finally turned toward me.
A warm smile rested on his face, gentle enough to feel out of place in a world like mine. He carried a basket full of vegetables in his right hand, and for a moment… he simply looked at me as though he'd been expecting this exact moment.
"Good afternoon," he said, voice calm, steady.
I stared back, unsure how to respond.
Who is he? Why am I here?
Questions stirred in my mind like restless shadows.
He walked past me and into the house, humming faintly as he set the basket down. The soft clatter of vegetables filled the quiet room.
"Come. Sit there," he said without turning.
I moved slowly, uncertain, my body still stiff from exhaustion. I took the chair he pointed at, sitting cautiously, ready to run if I needed to. My thoughts argued with themselves.
Is he human? Is he dangerous? Why help me?
The man looked at me at last. His expression was calm… too calm. Like someone who looked at storms and didn't flinch.
"I know you're eager to ask who I am," he said.
A beat of silence.
I nodded once. "Yes."
He rose from his seat, wiping his hands on a cloth. Then he faced me fully, no smile this time, no softness. Only certainty.
"My name is Lazarus," he said. "And I have a lot to tell you… about what's hidden inside you."