The roar came again, deafening and wet, shaking the village to its core. Windows rattled. Roof tiles fell. Eldhollow, the place of warmth and laughter, shuddered under the presence of something monstrous.
Cael's feet moved before his mind could catch up. He ran toward the open square, toward the children frozen in terror, toward the sound of his mother's voice calling him.
"Cael! Watch out!"
He didn't see her move until it was too late.
A massive claw, slick with scales and saliva, descended from the shadows. His mother lunged, screaming, pushing him violently aside. Pain exploded in his chest as he hit the ground, tumbling across the cobblestones.
"No—!" he screamed, scrambling to his knees.
The claw slammed down where he had been moments before. The sickening, wet crunch of her body being crushed echoed through his skull. Her eyes met his one last time, wide with terror and love.
And then she was gone, swallowed by the monster's maw.
Cael's world shattered.
Time slowed. The screams of the villagers, the panicked cries of children, the roar of the monster — all became a single, piercing note of horror. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. All he could feel was the hollow, searing void inside his chest where his mother had been.
Instinct screamed at him to flee. Hatred flared — sharp, volcanic, and raw. He couldn't save her, couldn't undo what had been done. But he could survive. He would survive.
The monster's gaze swept across the square. Broken tables, scattered goods, burning thatched roofs — nothing mattered to it but destruction and feeding. Cael rolled behind a toppled cart, clutching his chest, teeth clenched against tears and nausea.
Around him, Eldhollow was collapsing into chaos. Fathers screamed as they were thrown aside. Children cried, frozen in terror. The beast moved with terrifying precision, claws tearing, teeth rending. Smoke and blood mingled in the air. The sun, once warm and golden, was now muted by dust and shadow.
Cael pushed himself up. His legs trembled, lungs burning. He had no weapons, no magic, no power. Luck — pure, fleeting luck — became his only ally. He darted between debris, skirting closer to the cliffs, closer to anything that might give him a chance to survive.
But survival demanded more than luck. Hatred, raw and unyielding, surged through him. He remembered his mother, remembered Eldhollow, remembered the laughter, the warmth, the smells, the life. And he hated the thing that had taken it all.
He would not die here.
The monster reared, preparing to strike again. Cael's teeth bit into his lip until it bled. Every fiber of his body screamed in terror. Every instinct shouted to flee. But he did not. He could not. He had survived before. He would survive again.
And from the depths of that terror, that searing, unending nightmare, something changed within him.
Hatred became fuel. Pain became focus. Luck became strategy.