The melody faded mid-note.
The old man's fingers froze on the flute as his eyes slowly opened. They were sharp, far too sharp for someone his age.
"Come out," he said, his calm voice cutting cleanly through the air. "You've already been seen."
Kaelith hesitated behind a tree, his bare feet brushing against fallen leaves. The man didn't sound threatening, but there was something in his tone that demanded honesty.
He stepped forward.
The old man studied him for a moment—the blood-stained bandage, the trembling hands, the wild fear still hiding in his weird eyes.
"You shouldn't be standing," the man muttered, lowering his flute. "You've lost a lot of blood."
Kaelith opened his mouth, but his throat was too dry. "I… I don't know how I got here."
The man's gaze softened slightly. "Then maybe the heavens brought you." He gave a faint dry chuckle. "Heh, just kidding. I saved you from those men earlier."
He turned toward the house. "Come. You can talk once you've eaten."
---
Inside, Kaelith sat quietly as the old man stirred a pot over the fire. The scent of herbs filled the small room. A single monkey peeked through the window, curious but cautious.
"Eat," the man said, setting a wooden bowl in front of him. "It'll help your headache."
Kaelith nodded and took slow sips. For a while, neither spoke.
Finally, Kaelith asked, "Who are you?"
The man didn't look up. "Someone who's lived long enough to see too many wars and too few peaceful mornings. You can call me… Eryndor."
"Eryndor…" Kaelith repeated softly.
"And you?" the old man asked, glancing up. "What's your name, boy?"
Kaelith hesitated. "Kaelith. Kaelith Veyra—"
He froze. The name tore something open inside him. His hand tightened around the bowl.
Eryndor said nothing, only watched. The silence stretched before Kaelith spoke again, his voice trembling.
"They killed her… my mother. She told me to run. She said they'd come for me."
Eryndor leaned back, a faint shadow flickering across his eyes. "So… they've started again."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing you're ready to hear," Eryndor said quietly. Then, after a pause, "Sleep. When you wake, we'll talk properly. You'll need strength for what's coming next."
Kaelith nodded weakly. The warmth of the soup, the exhaustion, and the ache in his head pulled him under again.
Eryndor watched him drift into sleep, the flute resting across his knees. His expression hardened.
"So the Crimson Vitae stirs again," he murmured. "And the boy survives. The cycle begins anew."
Outside, the wind whispered through the trees, like distant voices in the dark.
---
Kaelith jolted awake, gasping as if pulled from a nightmare. Sweat clung to his skin. Only one word escaped his lips.
"Mom…"
He pushed out of bed and stumbled toward the door. Outside, Eryndor was watering his small garden.
"Eryndor," Kaelith called out, his voice breaking. "Please, I have to find my mom. Maybe she's not dead yet."
Eryndor dropped the bucket and grabbed Kaelith's wrist, pulling him close, his tone suddenly sharp.
"Listen to me. Your life is in danger. You need to stay hidden or you'll end up just like her."
Kaelith's eyes widened, tears spilling down his cheeks.
"Sorry, old man… but my mother's all I have. My friend, my teacher, my everything. I can't just leave her."
Eryndor's grip loosened, but before he could say another word, Kaelith turned and sprinted into the trees.
"Kaelith, wait!"
The old man's voice echoed, but Kaelith didn't stop.
Unnoticed by either of them, a figure crouched among the shadows—one of Tavros's guards, watching silently.
"Heh… fool," the man whispered with a smirk, slipping from the bushes to follow the boy.
But he didn't get far.
Eryndor's eyes flashed sharp, ancient and alive. The next instant, he vanished from sight, the leaves trembling in his wake.
The forest closed around Kaelith as he ran.
The wind tore at his clothes, branches scraped against his arms, and roots rose like claws from the ground, trying to drag him down. Still, he didn't stop.
Every step landed heavy and desperate, echoing in the hollow quiet between the trees.
"Mom… please be alive," he whispered, his breath uneven and breaking.
The deeper he went, the thicker the air became. The forest stretched endlessly before him, the silence pressing down until even his heartbeat sounded too loud.
But Kaelith wasn't alone.
A shadow moved behind him steady, unhurried, almost soundless. The man followed like a predator tracing its prey. Each step was measured. Each breath calm.
A faint smile curved his lips as his eyes locked on the boy ahead.
"The master will be pleased…" he murmured under his breath.
---
Back near the cabin, Eryndor stood motionless, eyes closed, his senses reaching far beyond what sight could grasp.
The faintest tremor in the air brushed his skin, and his brow furrowed.
"They've found him already…" he muttered.
The wind shifted.
Then, without a sound, his figure vanished.
The space he left behind shimmered for a brief instant, then stilled. The only sign of life was the slow drip of water from the overturned bucket beside the garden.
---
Kaelith stumbled to a stop when his legs could no longer carry him. He collapsed near a narrow stream, his chest burning as he struggled to breathe.
The cool scent of water grounded him. He leaned forward and scooped a handful to his lips, but as he looked down, the reflection staring back made his heart falter.
His eyes—once clear buh different colors —now glimmered faintly red under the sunlight, a soft crimson glow pulsing like something alive beneath his skin.
He stumbled backward, panic rising. "What… what is this?"
Before the thought could even settle, the sharp crack of a breaking twig cut through the air behind him.
Kaelith spun around.
From between the trees, a man stepped out, sword gleaming in the light that pierced the canopy. His face was calm, almost amused.
"You shouldn't have run, boy," the man said, voice low and rough.
Kaelith's pulse quickened. "Who are you?"
The stranger smirked. "Doesn't matter. All you need to know is that my master wants your head and I intend to deliver it."
Kaelith staggered back, fear twisting in his chest. His body still ached from his wounds, his vision swayed. There was nowhere to run this time.
The guard raised his sword, stepping closer. "Don't worry, kid. It'll be quick."
He swung, But the blade never reached its mark.
A rush of cold air swept through the clearing, the sound sharp and sudden. The guard's motion froze mid-strike as an unseen hand clamped around his wrist.
Eryndor stood beside him.
His face was calm, almost tired, yet his presence alone seemed to weigh on the air like a mountain pressing down.
"You talk too much," he said quietly.
The guard tried to pull free, but the old man's grip was immovable. His fingers barely tightened, and the man dropped to one knee, a strangled cry escaping his throat.
"W–who… who are you?" the guard rasped.
Eryndor's eyes didn't waver. "You don't have the right to ask."
Then, glancing at Kaelith, he added, "Close your eyes, boy."
Kaelith froze, his breath caught halfway.
"Now," Eryndor said again, his voice carrying a weight that allowed no hesitation.
Kaelith obeyed, shutting his eyes tight.
For a heartbeat, the forest went still—utterly silent. Then a single sound broke the calm.
A dull, heavy thud.
When Kaelith finally opened his eyes, the guard was lying on the ground, motionless. His sword was shattered in two.
Eryndor didn't speak at first. He looked down at the fallen man with a faint frown, then turned toward Kaelith.
"Next time," he said quietly, "don't run from the person trying to keep you alive."
Kaelith lowered his head, shame filling his chest. "I'm sorry… I just—"
"I know." Eryndor sighed, the sharpness in his tone fading. "You've already lost too much. Don't make yourself the next body I have to bury."
Kaelith swallowed hard, the words sinking deep. He could barely meet the old man's eyes.
Eryndor looked toward the stream, then back at him. "Come. We'll talk when we're home."
They walked in silence through the forest. Kaelith's gaze drifted once more to the fallen guard. The man's collar had slipped, revealing a mark seared into his neck—a crimson serpent, coiled and glimmering faintly in the fading light.
Something deep inside Kaelith stirred at the sight.
It was faint at first—a strange warmth spreading through his chest, then a pulse. His veins seemed to hum with it, glowing softly beneath his skin.
He didn't understand what it meant. He only knew one thing.
The color was the same as his eyes.