The sound of laughter echoed across the hillside.
"Come on!" Aerin shouted, breathless but grinning.
Four boys raced down the slope, their wooden swords clashing as they ran. Dust rose beneath their feet, catching in the warm afternoon light.
"You'll never become a knight at this rate!" one of them yelled, swinging wildly.
Aerin laughed, dodging the strike.
"I'm not losing to you," he shot back. "You can barely hold your sword straight!"
One of the boys stumbled.
"Hey! That doesn't count—!"
They gathered at the bottom of the hill, circling each other with raised swords.
Their stances were uneven, their movements clumsy—but to them, it was real.
"First to land a hit wins," one said.
Aerin adjusted his footing, mimicking the knights he had seen before.
"Try not to cry when you lose."
The boy charged.
Wood struck wood with a sharp crack.
Aerin staggered, arms shaking, but he pushed forward with a grin.
"You're too slow!"
The others laughed.
For a moment, the world was simple.
High on the ridge, hidden behind stone and shadow—
Two cloaked figures watched.
"…Is that the child?" one asked quietly.
The other nodded.
"Yeah. That's him."
They observed Aerin, his laughter carrying in the wind.
"…He doesn't look like much."
"Doesn't matter. Orders are orders."
A pause.
"We should report back."
"…Yeah."
They vanished.
The sky turned gold.
"Aerin!"
He turned.
His mother stood at the doorway, her red hair glowing in the fading light, green eyes warm but firm.
"Dinner's ready."
"Coming!"
He pointed his wooden sword at his friends.
"Tomorrow—I'm winning."
"We'll see about that!"
Aerin ran home.
Inside was warmth.
The smell of food.
His father, Darien Valen, sat at the table—broad-shouldered, quiet, steady as ever.
Across from him sat the twins.
"You're late," Lira said, arms folded, trying to sound serious.
"A knight is never late," Aerin replied, dropping into his seat.
Mira giggled softly beside her. "That's not what knights do."
Lira rolled her eyes. "You're just making things up again."
Aerin lifted his chin.
"Say what you want. I'll become a knight—the best this nation has ever had."
"I believe you can," his mother said gently, placing food in front of him and brushing his hair back.
"Eat before it gets cold."
For a moment…
There was peace.
Far away, the cloaked figures knelt before a man seated in darkness.
"…We found him."
Silence.
"So it's true," the man said.
"…Yes, he matches the description."
A pause.
"Then there's no choice."
The air grew heavy.
"We cannot leave any traces."
Another pause.
"Kill them all."
Night fell.
The village slept.
Quiet.
Still.
Then—
Screams.
Doors burst open. Firelight flickered wildly. Footsteps thundered through the streets.
People ran.
Aerin's eyes snapped open.
His heart pounded.
Orange light leaked through the cracks of the door.
"Stay inside," Darien said, already moving, his voice sharp—unfamiliar.
Not calm.
Not safe.
The door exploded inward.
Figures rushed in.
Steel flashed.
Darien stepped forward—
Too slow.
A blade cut him down.
Aerin froze.
Everything slowed.
"No—"
His mother grabbed him—and the twins.
Her hands trembled.
Her voice did not.
"Run."
He couldn't move.
She slapped him.
Hard.
"RUN!"
She dragged them toward the back door.
They ran.
Behind them—
"They're escaping!"
"Don't let them get far."
Cold air hit them as they fled into the night.
Aerin's breathing became uneven.
Then—
He tripped.
Fell hard.
"Aerin!"
His mother turned instantly, rushing back.
She knelt beside him, trying to pull him up—
A sharp, wet sound.
She froze.
An arrow pierced through her.
Her body went still.
Then she collapsed.
"Mom!"
Aerin caught her.
Blood filled her mouth.
"Run… take your sisters… and run…"
"No… please—"
"I… love…"
Her hand slipped from his.
Something inside him shattered.
"Come on!" Aerin gasped, grabbing the twins. "We have to go!"
Lira nodded quickly, gripping Mira's hand.
"I'm here," she whispered to her sister.
"Don't let go."
Mira clung to her, crying softly.
They ran.
Behind them—
Footsteps.
Slow.
Unhurried.
"Don't kill them yet."
"Let him run."
Aerin's legs burned.
His lungs screamed.
Then—
Pain.
An arrow tore into his leg.
He collapsed instantly.
Before he could recover—
Another.
Aerin screamed.
"Run!" he shouted. "Don't stop!"
He dragged himself forward, hands clawing at the ground, leaving a trail of blood.
They caught up.
One stepped on his back, forcing him down.
The man who pinned him to the ground leaned closer.
He was broad and heavy, his weight pressing the air from Aerin's lungs with ease.
A long scar cut across his face—starting just above his brow, dragging down past his eye, and ending at his jaw.
The skin there was twisted, pale against the rest of his rough features.
One eye remained sharp and focused.
The other…
slightly dulled, as if the scar had taken something from it.
His expression held no anger.
No urgency.
Only boredom.
As though this—
the blood, the screams, the killing—
meant nothing at all.
He shifted his foot slightly, grinding it harder into Aerin's back.
A reminder.
Of how powerless he was.
"…Why…?" Aerin gasped.
"Why are you doing this…?"
He crouched beside him.
Cold eyes. Empty.
"For money," he said. "You caused us quite the trouble."
They dragged the twins forward.
"Please…" Aerin begged, voice breaking. "Don't hurt them…"
They laughed.
"I thought you wanted to be a knight," the man said. "I saw you earlier."
Lira struggled, trying to stay strong—but her hands shook.
"Aerin…" she whispered.
Steel flashed.
Her voice broke into a scream.
Mira cried out, reaching for him.
"I don't want to die… brother—"
Aerin screamed.
His world collapsed.
His body trembled violently.
His fingers dug into the dirt.
Tears fell endlessly.
Then—
Slowly—
He looked up.
His eyes burned.
"I'll… kill you…"
They laughed.
"I'll kill all of you…"
His voice steadied.
"…even if it's the last thing I do."
A boot slammed into his side.
Then another.
And another.
Pain tore through his body, sharp and relentless—but Aerin made no sound.
No cry.
No plea.
Only silence.
His body shook beneath the blows, blood staining the dirt beneath him.
But his eyes—
His eyes burned.
Not with fear.
But with something darker.
Something unyielding.
Hatred.
And the will to fight back.
The man exhaled, almost disappointed.
"…This is getting boring," he muttered.
He lifted his blade.
blade rose.
Then—
Everything stopped.
The air shifted.
A voice.
Cold.
Ancient.
"Do you want… power?"
Aerin stopped breathing.
"I will give you strength…"
"…enough to destroy them all."
Tears streamed down his face.
But his eyes—
Did not waver.
"…Yes."