The sun rose over Hearthvale as a pale witness to ruin.
Smoke still curled from the scorched remains of homes, drifting upward like lost prayers. Cinders floated in
the air like dark snowflakes. The once-colorful village square was now a graveyard of charred beams,
collapsed walls, and silence.
High above the village on a ridge, a small scouting party halted. They wore the silver-blue colors of the
Northern Duchy. At the front of the group, a woman on horseback narrowed her eyes.
Duchess Lireya Taldred had seen many battlefields in her life.
But this... this was a massacre.
The Duchess Arrives
Lireya dismounted and knelt beside the wreckage of the old chapel. Her gloved fingers brushed against ash
and blood.
No survivors. No monster tracks. Only clean, coordinated destruction.
Her knight-captain, Ser Luthen, approached with a grim expression. "No signs of the attackers. The bodies
were burned. Buried under rubble. Whoever did this… knew what they were looking for."
Lireya's brow furrowed. "And they took it."
She looked up toward the remnants of the Valerius bakery, heart twisting.
"Captain Dain was stationed here."
"Yes, Duchess. His wife and children too."
Lireya clenched her jaw. "Find me anything. Survivors, footprints, spirit residue—anything."
In the Forest
Far to the north, hidden in the trees along a slow-moving stream, Alaric sat with his back against a mossy
rock, arms wrapped protectively around his sister Mira, who wept quietly in his lap.
"Where's Mama…?" Mira asked, her tiny fingers curled in his tunic. "Where's Papa?"
Alaric didn't answer.
He couldn't.
The other children huddled nearby: Lina, eyes red but dry; Torren, fists clenched and face pale with fury;
and the younger ones—Maris, Johan, and Teli—clung to one another in silence, their clothes stained with
soot and tears.
"We're safe now," Alaric finally said. "We just have to wait."
"You said someone would come," Torren muttered. "But no one's coming."
"They will," Alaric insisted, though the words hurt his throat.
"What if they don't?" Lina asked.
Alaric looked down. "Then I'll protect us."
Hunger and Hope
That night, Mira woke crying. Her voice broke the silence.
"I want Mama! I want Mama!"
Alaric held her close. "I know, Mira. I know…"
Lina stroked the little girl's hair, whispering soft words to calm her.
The others looked to Alaric, and he looked to the stars.
"Tomorrow," he said. "We walk."
And so they did.
The next day, they followed the riverbank, searching for safety. Mira soon began to complain.
"I'm hungry…"
"We all are," Maris said softly.
Torren pulled some half-dried berries from his pocket. "Here. Split these."
The group trudged forward, feet dragging, eyes scanning the woods.
The Monster
A low growl snapped them to alert.
From the trees emerged a Rank 2 Forest Stalker—its fanged maw glistening, yellow eyes glowing.
The children froze.
"No—run!" Torren yelled.
But it was too fast. It lunged.
Johan screamed as its claw slashed his leg.
"Johan!" Maris shrieked.
Lina pulled him back. "He's bleeding!"
Alaric stepped between them and the beast, trembling.
"Leave them alone!" he shouted, raising his broken wooden sword.
The beast snarled.
Then—
A surge of energy pulsed through Alaric's body.
His breath caught. His arms lit with aura.
A thin ring of shadow and fire encircled his hands.
His sword glowed faintly.
He gritted his teeth. "I won't run again."
"River Slash!" he cried, leaping forward.
The blade struck deep. The beast roared.
Alaric dodged right, then struck again, aura flaring with instinct.
"Get back!" he shouted. "Stay behind me!"
The creature lunged. Alaric met it with a final cry—"Break Fang!"—his aura exploding.
The beast collapsed.
Aftermath
Silence returned.
Then sobs.
Lina wrapped Johan's leg. "It's not too deep. We'll stop the bleeding."
Torren stared at Alaric. "What was that?"
"I… don't know," Alaric said, chest heaving.
"You glowed," Teli said. "Like a knight."
Mira clung to his side. "You're strong."
"No," Alaric said. "I was just scared. But I had to protect you."
That night, they huddled around a small fire, lit by flint and old cloth.
For the first time in days, they didn't cry themselves to sleep.
And in the shadows, a figure watched from the treeline.