Who's there?" the voice rang through the camp.
One of them said, "Must have been the wind." He got up and reached for a torch. Suddenly, the torch went out.
The air went still, and sound was no longer present in the forest. The temperature dropped, then rose, and paused, balancing unnaturally.
"I AM HERE!"
The voice cut through the tree lines and bushes. The campfire went out.
"Hey! Keep your distance!" one of them said, taking a defensive stance.
They reached out for their weapons, but they were unusually heavy.
"Distance—be specific. Two meters, four kilometers, or two centimeters… don't be vague," Cairo said, his voice seeming to come from every corner of the forest.
"Just… stay back and tell us your name," another said, taking steps backward.
"My name doesn't carry such a label. I am beyond mortal acts… they insult my being by trying to label me," he said, walking closer, a fog rolling in and covering the forest floor.
"But you are free to call me whatever you wish." He took a step forward; each step made the heat and cold seem nonexistent.
"Hey, do you take us for fools? What do you mean, 'beyo—'" he was cut off by one of his allies.
"Lucas, are you stupid? Look around you. I don't know who he is, but he's not like us… he's a god or a guardian," she whispered into his ear as they backed away.
The girl in the cage crawled to the corner, concealing herself.
"Lucas—is that your label?" Cairo said, a smile creeping onto his lips. "Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you. Just answer questions, and I will let you leave."
Lucas sweat crawling on his forehead opened his mouth, but no words came at first. "Y-yes, we will answer," he stammered, his eyes darting everywhere, seeking a route of escape—but everywhere he looked, there seemed to be a black cover; visibility was nonexistent.
"Great choice… now tell me, who's her—the master behind the puppets?" Cairo's eyes followed him.
"We don't know. All we know is she's powerful and made us go through hell and back," he said, his hands frantic.
"Is that so… puppets to a masked figure? Run along now. You're no longer needed," Cairo announced. They didn't waste any time; they took off, leaving everything behind.
"Huh… acting high and mighty works when you have something to back it up. Lucky me they didn't try to fight, or they probably would've won," he thought to himself.
"Well, I'm not done. The show must go on… there's the caged girl," he thought as he made his way to her.
That coward stayed in the corners of the cage. "Hello there… stop being scared. I mean no harm," his tone wasn't polite; it was commanding.
The girl didn't answer. She just crawled further into her cage, fear in her eyes.
"Yeah… been a while since I interacted with a scared person. I mostly don't care," he thought.
"What's your name?" The tone was nothing warm; it was like a command that gods whisper to servants—a command that sparks wars.
"It- it's Mira," her voice was soft and fragile. "Th-thanks for saving me," she said, still crawling at the end of the cage.
"Mira… I didn't save you because I happened to be passing through here. Save your thanks for a hero—I'm not that," Cairo said. His eyes didn't have warmth; it wasn't a cold stare either. It was pure indifference.
The blade cut through the metal lock of the cage. "Get out of the cage and leave," he said.
"But I have nowhere to go. I never did," she said, crawling out of the cage hesitantly.
"That's not my problem. Deal with it yourself," he said, already starting to walk away from the camp.
Mira called out, "Can I come with you? To where you are going?" She ran at him, holding his hand.
Cairo looked at her for a minute.
"No, no. If you're homeless, go that way—you'll find a citadel. Stay there. I came back now… take some food and leave." He pulled his arm away from her grip and turned around, walking away, leaving the girl behind.
The girl let out a sigh of hurt as she got ready and headed in the opposite direction. Cairo's thoughts were not of regret, just pure annoyance.
"Now I'm a babysitter… what have I gotten myself into? How… what compelled me to go into that camp in the first place? All I remember is being in the bushes, then I heard a voice in my ear… from there on, I remember nothing else. I was out of my hiding spot and had to improvise. What a headache."
As he spoke, a murder of crows flew right next to him. They passed with a scent of blood and metallic air. The red glow of the moon and the greenery was an unusual blend.
"A murder… wonder where they are going. My grandmother told me a murder is attracted to bad fortune and questionable people… I don't like this at all. It feels like they are trying to lead me somewhere—to someone or something." He took a step forward, following behind the murder.
"Well, I guess I'm following the birds that are nicknamed a murder. Nothing wrong is going to happen in, like, two minutes," he rolled his eyes, tailing the murder.
He looked at the sky, and the red glow only got more intense. He turned to his left, and there it was—the red burning sun. The surrounding area was pure crimson. The unforgiving sun glowed brighter by the second; the heat was unbearable.
"What the hell? It's only been up for three minutes, and it's a freaking oven here. The trees don't do anything." The fog rolled in, enveloping him.
It was too cold—a contrast to the blazing heat. His body required shelter, but his mind was curious. Eventually, his mind won the tug-of-war, and he continued.
"It's odd… the moment I needed something, it showed up. It was hot, now I'm enveloped by this cold fog… I don't want to question it. Do I even have to?" He continued following the metallic scent left behind by the crows.
The heat was unyielding, but the fog never yielded either. Each step felt like a planned piece on a chessboard moving itself.
Until he came across something in the distance—a building that seemed similar to the Citadel, less overgrown and smaller. He approached it.
A woman standing on the balcony saw him. "My word… Father, I think… I think it's him," she said, running back inside.