The forest north of Ashmere was cool in the mornings.
It was neither completely silent nor loud.
There was only… a kind of silence that demanded attention.
The scent of the soil was still sharp; the smell of dampness and the remnants of old fire struck the nose. The wind was light, but it drifted across the leaves, leaving behind an almost imperceptible whisper.
Zakaryon Juhesta was walking at the front. His shoulders were broad, his back strong. His black-and-gray mixed hair shimmered slightly in the sunlight, and his chestnut eyes scanned the surroundings out of habit. With the discipline that years had given him, he kept a rhythm in his steps. He wore a simple, dark-colored tunic suitable for moving comfortably in the forest. A small knife and a worn notebook hung from his leather belt—his identity as a researcher was quiet, yet distinct.
Two children followed behind him.
Eryon struck the ground with a short stick, scattering leaves and producing soft sounds as it hit stones. His dark red hair was unusually thick and glossy for his age. His eyes, like his mother Elvaira's, were deep red, sharp, and attentive. Though only six and a half years old, his posture was exaggerated—impatient and aggressive, yet fiercely loyal to his family. He wore a pale red short tunic, a simple design that did not restrict his movements.
Kaien was a few steps behind. He was eight years old, slender but agile. His hair was white. His eyes were normally dark, almost black, but would turn slightly red when he became angry. His gray, almost colorless tunic made him blend into his surroundings. He carried nothing in his hands. Every crackle, every whisper of the wind, he noticed; at times he paused, observing his surroundings.
Zakaryon suddenly stopped.
— "Eryon," he said without looking back.
"If you strike the ground with that stick one more time, you will carry everything we collected today yourself."
Eryon grumbled.
— "It's nothing, Dad. It's just a plant."
Zakaryon bent down to examine a root close to the soil.
— "The forest is not made up of plants alone," he said.
"Some things dislike noise, son. Remember that."
Eryon said nothing but continued walking, dragging the stick along the ground this time.
Kaien stopped by a tree. The soil was dark; damp, but not muddy. There were clustered herbs right next to the roots. Their leaves were thin but not the usual green—they were darker, as if dusted with ash.
Kaien knelt down, touching the soil with his fingers. It was cold.
Something was wrong here, he thought.
— "Dad," he said.
Zakaryon raised his head.
— "What is it? Did you find something?"
Kaien pointed to the base of the tree.
— "There are strange herbs here."
Zakaryon approached and bent down. He took one leaf between two fingers and sniffed it. It was neither rotten nor burnt.
— "Strange," he said simply.
Eryon immediately jumped in.
— "Are they poisonous?"
Zakaryon shook his head.
— "No. They resemble Jiju."
Kaien looked up.
— "Jiju?"
— "Yes," Zakaryon said as he stood.
"They make tea from it in the village. It is believed to lower fever."
Eryon scrunched his face.
— "Mom drinks it. It tastes awful."
Zakaryon gave a faint smile.
— "Useful things usually are."
Yet his eyes lingered on the herbs for another moment.
It was early, he thought. Too early for the season.
Still, no pressing feeling came over him. No warning, no pressure. Just… an inexplicable strangeness.
— "Let's move on," he said.
"Enough for today."
They started walking. Kaien looked back one last time. The herbs were still there. Quiet. They seemed harmless.
The path to Ashmere was more open compared to the forest. The trees grew sparser, giving way to stony soil. In the distance, the village's wooden fences began to appear.
Zakaryon's steps slowed.
He silently reminded himself to be careful as they approached the village.
The children didn't notice.
Two guards stood at the village entrance. Ashmere guards did not wear heavy armor. Their chainmail reached down to their knees, covered by dark brown leather vests. A faded red cloth bearing the Vertarast emblem hung from their shoulders.
The first guard was tall. His hair had turned white early, and his beard was neatly trimmed. His eyes were brown, and he had two deep dagger scars on his neck. Without removing his hand from the spear, he spoke:
— "Juhesta."
Zakaryon nodded slightly.
— "Rowen."
The other guard was younger, his face not yet hardened, with signs of sleeplessness under his eyes.
— "You're late," he said.
"It's difficult to find medicinal plants in the forest this time of year. The soil has become unproductive."
Rowen glanced at Kaien and Eryon.
Zakaryon laughed.
— "What's wrong? Did the children threaten you?"
Rowen took a short breath.
— "This isn't the time for jokes, Juhesta. Those waiting for you are here."
Zakaryon's brows barely furrowed.
— "Uninvited guests?"
The young guard hesitated, then stepped closer.
— "They arrived this morning. Three people."
— "Their attire?"
— "They wore the uniforms of the Vertarast research military group. They carried a sealed letter."
— "How long have they been here?"
— "Just before the sun reached its peak. They're outside your home. Haven't come inside."
Zakaryon nodded.
— "Eryon, Kaien. Let's go."
Kaien gave the guards one last glance. Their faces were familiar, but their postures were different.
Inside, three researchers were waiting in the open area. The man in the middle was thin. His shoulders slumped, but his posture was straight. His face was pale, the area under his eyes dark. He wore a dark gray, simple but high-quality jacket. The woman on his right had her hair tightly braided. Her face was stern, and her long coat was near-black navy, with fine embroidery on the sleeves. The man on the left was quieter, broad-shouldered. He wore leather gloves, and a short knife hilt was visible under his jacket. All three wore the same uniform.
— "You and Kaien, come inside," said Zakaryon. The door closed behind him.
Zakaryon stepped forward.
— "Your early arrival is not a good sign."
The man in the middle bowed his head.
— "Your instincts are as sharp as ever, Mr. Juhesta."
The woman spoke:
— "We were specifically instructed to visit Ashmere."
— "By whom?" asked Zakaryon.
The man produced a sealed envelope from his pocket. Vertarast Kingdom. The Research Seal.
— "Assistant clan leader from the research team," he said.
"Personally."
Zakaryon took the envelope and read it. His face did not change, but the weight inside increased.
— "How much time do I have?"
— "tomorrow. Some have already departed."
Zakaryon nodded.
— "Understood."
Inside, Kaien stood behind the door. He hadn't heard everything, but he understood the tone.
— "Are you going?"
— "Yes."
Kaien nodded. Someone was leaving again.
— "Is it about the forest?"
— "No. The kingdom. Don't worry, just a few days of work."
Kaien said nothing. Unease remained inside him.
Eryon stood straight before his father. Despite his small frame, his shoulders were tense; his eyes held more stubbornness than uncertainty.
— "Take me with you," said Eryon. His voice did not waver. This was not a request, but repeated insistence.
Zakaryon took a deep breath. His hand traced the cracks of the wooden table.
— "Eryon. Where I'm going is not for children. It's dangerous. You will stay here."
Eryon's brows furrowed.
— "I am not a child."
— "You are."
Zakaryon continued without squinting.
— "While I'm gone, you will protect your mother and brother. You are the eldest of this house. Understand?"
Kaien tried to speak:
— "Dad, Eryon but—"
— "Enough," said Zakaryon. His voice left no room for return.
Eryon's eyes welled up. He bit his lip and turned his head. He didn't speak. He walked to the door and went outside. When the door closed behind him, the silence became heavier.
— "Eryon!" Zakaryon called. No response came.
Kaien glanced at his father for a moment. There was no regret on Zakaryon's face, only exhaustion. The weight of many years rested on his shoulders.
— "Kaien. Convince your brother. Return home before evening."
Kaien nodded.
— "Okay, Dad."
This scene was not unfamiliar to them. Whenever Eryon got angry, he always went to the same place. Zakaryon did not follow; he knew where he would go.
The path outside the village stretched over ash-colored soil. Ashmere… was not always like this.
Eryon ran. Every step sent gray dust rising into the air. Kaien followed. His breath came faster, his voice softer.
— "Brother… stop…"
But Eryon did not.
A little outside the village, they reached the massive tree under which the statues of the Seven Immortals stood. Eryon finally stopped. Its trunk was so wide that even a few people standing side by side could only embrace half of it. This tree was known as the Ash Tree.
Over a hundred and eleven years old, it was the only thing left standing in Ashmere. Fifty years ago, the village had been completely attacked. At that time, the land had been fertile; agriculture still persisted in the north. According to rumors, the blood that had been spilled poisoned the soil, turning its fertility to ash. When the clan leader at that time arrived at the village, seeing only this tree standing, he named it "Ashmere," giving the village its present name.
Eryon knelt at the base of the tree, clenching his fists.
— "Why can't we leave? Why are we always here?"
Kaien came beside him. He looked at the statues. Seven figures… their faces had faded over time, but their stances were still intimidating.
— "Father keeps saying Vertarast is dangerous. You know what children returning from there have said."
Eryon raised his head.
— "I know. But are we going to live just to be afraid?"
Kaien remained silent.
— "I want to learn blood arts," Eryon said. "There are schools in the city. The earlier we go, the stronger we'll be."
— "We'll go at thirteen," Kaien said. "Father said so."
Eryon smiled, but there was no joy.
— "Kira left. Two months ago. She was my age."
Kaien sighed.
— "I know you envied her, brother. Her Ruven level was higher than ours. She was the son of the Riveryan clan, after all."
Eryon tensed.
— "That's not true. I just want to learn blood arts. I want to form my own clan. I'm fighting for my dream. What's wrong with that?"
Kaien could not answer. His brother's dream carried a different tone; it was resolute.
— "It's getting dark. Let's go home. Father and mother said we should return before evening."
— "I don't want to go home," said Eryon.
At that moment, the wind blew. The air grew heavy. A scream rose from within the forest. It was a woman's scream.
Kaien shivered inside.
— "Brother… did you hear that too?"
— "I heard it. We should call Father."
— "What if we're too late?"
Kaien hesitated. The forest was unsafe at night. But Eryon had already made his decision.
— "We're going. I'm with you."
Kaien reluctantly nodded.
— "But if it's something we can't handle, we'll turn back."
They ran into the forest. Ashmere Forest was twenty minutes from the village. Trees thickened; light almost vanished entirely. The scream had stopped, but the silence was even more terrifying.
At the edge of the forest, Eryon stopped. There was a dark red substance on the ground. Dense, almost solid. Its smell… like the heavy energy of blood, sharp and intense, sending shivers down the spine.
— "Kaien! Look at this!"
Kaien came beside him. Both noticed it at the same time.
— "Ruven…"
Kaien knelt. His fingers trembled as he reached for the Ruven. The moment he touched it, a shiver ran through him. He heard a whisper:
"Hurry, run"
Kaien's eyes widened. The darkness deepened even further.