Hézo
Evening was slowly falling over Edo. Hezo settled beneath a market stall. Misery, despair, greed, the air was thick with the darker shades of human nature, the kind that fed the logubres. If he was going to find one, this was the place. He was certain of it.
— Hey, you! a sudden voice called, cutting through the heavy silence of dusk.
Hezo didn't move. A boy, a little younger than him, stepped forward.
— You should go home. Tonight's going to get ugly.
Hezo ignored him, his eyes fixed on nothing.
— I'm talking to you, brother. Move. It's dangerous.
— Brother? Hezo rose slowly, his gaze cold. I don't know who you are or why you're talking to me, but here's a tip, leave me alone.
— You're clearly not from around here, the boy shot back. And you have no idea what the Cursed Night does to Edo.
Hezo sighed, ready to walk away. But the boy grabbed his arm. Reflexively, Hezo shoved him off.
— I said leave me alone.
— I can't, the boy insisted. You look my age. I can't just watch you die out here.
Hezo remained silent. The boy continued, calmer this time.
— Last time, I almost didn't make it. And I thought I lost someone really important to me. So please… just come with us. The street kids gather at the temple when the Cursed Night falls.
— I'm not a street kid.
— Yeah, I figured. Your clothes say enough. But you might want to tone it down, or you'll get robbed before the monsters even find you.
Hezo grimaced. That warning came a little late. Still, it wasn't thieves he feared the most.
— And your friend? What happened to him?
— The Black Warriors came, the boy said, his eyes gleaming. I was unconscious when they arrived, a shame. I would've loved to see them for real. They must be incredible…
Hezo looked down, then back up.
— Thanks for the warning. But I can handle myself. I know what the Cursed Night is. That's exactly why I'm here.
— You're crazy. Unless… wait, are you a Black Warrior?
Hezo saw an easy way out.
— That's right, he muttered.
A lie just enough to be left alone.
The boy's face lit up. He seized Hezo's hand, his eyes filled with reverence.
— My name's Morio. It's an honor to meet you. Thank you for what you do, even when no one sees it. You're the jewels of Rada.
Hezo pulled his hand back, uneasy. He wished it were true. He wished he was one of them.
— Tell me, Morio… do you think someone can become a Black Warrior, even without a Loa?
Morio's eyes widened. Then his expression darkened.
— No… that's impossible. Otherwise, I'd be one too.
Hezo closed his eyes briefly, absorbing the truth he already knew.
— But, Morio added, that doesn't mean someone ordinary can't become as strong as one.
A faint smile tugged at Hezo's lips. This kid gets it.
— Why do you ask?
— Forget it.
Morio shrugged.
— Good luck tonight. I hope I see you tomorrow.
He turned to leave, but Hezo stopped him.
— Wait. One question, how do you all survive, you street kids? Do you have enough to eat?
Morio smiled softly.
— Come to the temple with me. I'll tell you everything — over a real meal.
Hezo hesitated. He preferred solitude. But he'd need his strength for what was coming.
— Let me just get my horse. He's close by.
Maybe Onyx would be safer there too.
***
The temple was only a few streets away from the market. Its tall dome rose against the dark sky, flanked by spires that reached for the heavens. Morio explained that during Cursed Nights, the street children gathered in temples like this one to share hot meals, offered by the community or the temples themselves. The rest of the time, they lived freely, scattered in makeshift huts, abandoned houses, or tents. To survive, they worked in cooperatives. Morio, for instance, worked in an agricultural one by day and a repair one at night.
— It lets me try different things, he said. I balance what I like, and I still have time to train in martial arts.
— Why train so much? Hezo asked.
— Because I'll never be a Black Warrior. So I decided to become a soldier to defend my city. I may be ordinary, but I'll fight. I'll become just as strong as they are.
Hezo looked up at the ceiling, where a simple chandelier cast a gentle glow. Around them, hand-painted vévés watched silently over the hall.
— You'll make it, he said.
In the flickering light of oil lamps lined along a long wooden table, Hezo shared a stew of potatoes and bread with about thirty children. It was his first real meal since leaving Ardara. He ate slowly, savoring every bite.
When he was done, he thanked his hosts. Morio promised to look after Onyx while he was away.
***
Night fell over Edo like a velvet curtain. As Hezo stepped out of the temple, he paused to gaze at the moon. Its pale light bathed the city in calm serenity.
He couldn't tell if that peace came from the divine influence of Sinji's sacred moon, or from the gentler memory it evoked. Evenings spent beside his mother, watching the sky.
She used to tell him his eyes looked like twin moons. And when the moon shone high above, he always felt, even for a moment, stronger. Whole.
He touched the pendant around his neck, took a deep breath, and walked on.
***
The market alleys were silent. Too silent. No sign of a logubre. No monsters. Nothing.
He grew restless.
He remembered blood attracts beings from the In-Between. Without hesitation, he sliced the tip of his left index finger and drew a sign with his blood on an old wooden beam beneath an awning.
A cold wind rose.
Then, a shrill, unearthly scream ripped through the night, a sound not of this world. Hezo's blood ran cold.
He felt a presence. Then another. And another.
He swallowed hard, drew his sword, and braced himself.
Something lunged from the dark, slamming him backward. Before he could get up, a freezing hand seized his throat and pinned him to the ground.
An Iblis.
Massive. No mouth, no nose, no eyes. Just a black, smooth, expressionless face. Its body was studded with metallic spikes, like nails hammered into an ebony effigy. A suffocating aura surrounded it.
Behind it, more shapes emerged, too many. Hezo hadn't expected such a coordinated attack.
He was already struggling to breathe.
The Iblis leaned closer, its blank face inches from his. A thin slit opened across its surface, revealing a row of glowing red teeth.
Hezo's heart pounded. He couldn't breathe. He rammed his sword into the creature's abdomen, no reaction.
He gripped the monstrous hands crushing his neck, forcing them apart with all his strength. The pressure eased, barely, but enough.
His body, trained through years of discipline, responded. He coiled his legs and kicked with everything he had. The impact sent the Iblis reeling.
Freed at last, Hezo snatched his sword back, gasping for air.
But the horde was closing in.
He had no chance.
So he made the only sane choice.
He ran.