Two months had already passed since Leo had joined the Black Hunters. He spent most of his days practicing with that strange glaive alongside Tyler—the two of them had grown somewhat close in that time, forced together as roommates and training partners.
"Leo—should I tell you something? Your glaive work is trash." Tyler's look was cool;
Leo met it with equal chill. "If you don't stop with those comments I'll put it on your —"
he let the threat hang. "You don't know how to take advice."
If that's what you call advice, just keep it in your empty head. I don't need it. You swing like you're wielding a sword; that glaive's for acrobats. Why don't they just give us pistols? Everyone's using them anyway."
Tyler thumped his head with a gloved hand. "Don't say that, specifically not in front of Christopher. We'll be a laughingstock. Pistols are fine—until you run out of ammo and then it's bye-bye to your short miserable life. We need to master the old ways."
Christopher's name drew a thin line of contempt from Leo. "I don't know why everyone's so afraid of him."
Tyler held up his hands. "You know what, I'll stop. You're going to get us in trouble—let's end training for today."
When they finished their drills the two men collapsed onto the hard-packed dirt in the center of the yard. Breathing heavy, Leo watched the sky darken a little and felt the soreness in his limbs.
"Commander called us in today," Tyler said after a moment. "Looks like he wants to give us a mission—both of us."
"A mission?" Leo panted. "What kind of missions do you normally—?"
Tyler reached for a towel and wiped his neck. "The ones those bastards refuse to touch."
"You mean the king's men?" Leo guessed.
Tyler laughed, a short, bitter sound. "You're settling in, I'll give you that." He shrugged, then his tone cooled. "We do the dirty work; they take the praise. Annoying, isn't it? But the captain doesn't care about rumors. So that's that."
"Right." Leo's voice was flat. He leaned closer, lowering his head. "By the way—what about that girl, Liza? I haven't seen her since that day. Is she all right? And why the hell does she call me 'father'?"
Tyler burst out laughing. "She doesn't mean it like that. It's more like—ownership, a bond."
"A host?" Leo frowned. "I don't follow."
"Calm down." Tyler's voice went gentle. "She's a dragonling—still growing, not human. Whoever treats her kindly, she latches onto. Like the woman who used to be with her—she cared for Liza, called her 'sister.' To Liza, that woman was a host; she chose her. Same with you. Liza chooses her host."
Leo's eyes widened until they were almost comical. "Liza is a dragon? Are you serious? Where is she now?"
"Most likely asleep," Tyler said. "Dragons fall into long sleeps. She's been hibernating since then; she'll wake eventually. You'll need the captain's permission to see her. Now—go and wash up. We have to meet him."
Half an hour later they stood before the captain in his cramped office. The room smelled of oil and old paper; a single candle guttered on the desk. "the three of you knows why I called you," the captain said, his voice flat.
"Three ?" they both replied in surprise—then fell silent as the door behind them closed. They turned and found a pale girl standing in the shadow, her hair and eyes as black as a raven's wing.
They looked at one another. Leo whispered to Tyler, "I'm terrified."
Tyler answered in a low voice, "I'm no less frightened than you are."
The captain's expression did not change. "You three will share this mission tonight. It's simple—and I want no excuses."
"In your command, sir," they answered together.
He continued, folding his hands. "The keeper of Lincom cemetery has reported strange occurrences. Graves are increasing in number between dusk and dawn, There have also been rumors of screams at midnight. The cemetery is not ordinary; its sanctity appears to be violated. You will investigate, bring me a full report when you finish. Dismissed."
Tyler barked, "Why don't the royal guards handle this? Isn't the cemetery under their charge? Why do we get called to clean up their mess and they take the praise?"
The captain slammed his fist against the desk. "Mind your tongue, Tyler. I give the orders here—you will obey."
They all nodded, awkward and uneasy. "You may go," the captain said finally.
Outside the door Leo muttered, "What kind of mission is this? I still don't know."
"Neither do I," Tyler admitted, "but it'll probably be some idiotic errand."
Eileen—standing quiet until then—stepped forward. For a heartbeat she said nothing; then she spoke with a voice that slid over them like silk. "We meet at ten. Be prepared."
They swallowed. "Of course—we'll be there."
They left the office and parted ways only to converge again at the cemetery gate by ten. Night had wrapped the town in a gray shawl; a thin wind moved the loose leaves like restless thoughts. Eileen walked ahead with measured, sure steps while the two younger men whispered behind her.
"Tyler, who is she? She looks like a nun," Leo murmured.
"Leo—shut your ***** mouth. She can hear you. She's stronger than you think," Tyler hissed back.
Eileen turned then and fixed them with a cold glance. "You'd better hurry instead of talking about me," she said, so softly that it might have been a breath. The word 'fools' hovered in the space between them; they heard it, but neither dared retort. They felt implicated—charms or not, this was not the place for bravado.
When they reached the gate, Eileen produced a key from within her cloak and set it to the lock. Before she could turn it, Leo reached out and touched the iron latch. "Miss Eileen," he said, "I don't think it's necessary. It's already open."
Tyler's hand flew to the wood in alarm. "Open? That's impossible!" he snapped. "This gate only yields to a sealed key—enchanted. How could it be—?"
Leo beckoned them forward into the cold mouth of the cemetery. "If that's the case," he said, "then we'll go in and see for ourselves."
"This cemetery is protected by magic—watch your step. Don't tread on the graves," Tyler warned, his voice low and sharp.
The air inside was cold enough to bite. A dense fog slithered between the crooked tombstones, carrying with it the stench of rot and damp earth. The three of them covered their mouths and noses, but the foulness still crept in—sickly, sour, old as death itself.
"Alright," Tyler said, forcing a grin. "Let's get this freak show started. The report said there are a hundred and fourteen graves. We'll split up and count—see if the number matches."
Minutes passed in tense silence, boots crunching on gravel and wet grass. When they regrouped in the center of the cemetery, Leo spoke first.
"There's one extra. I counted a hundred and fifteen."
Eileen nodded slowly. "Same here."
Tyler frowned. "Then it's settled. I got the same number."
They exchanged wary glances before heading toward the last grave. The headstone stood tall, perfectly shaped—yet blank. No name. No carving. Just smooth, cold stone.
"That doesn't make sense," Tyler murmured. "Every grave here belongs to someone important. A nameless tomb shouldn't exist—not here."
Eileen's gaze flicked toward a small tool shed near the fence. Without a word, she retrieved two shovels and tossed them to the men. "You'd better start digging. Let's see what's buried here."
Tyler stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Dig? Are you insane? This cemetery belongs to the royal estate! Everyone buried here is either a revered sorcerer or a high noble. You want us thrown in prison?"
"Oh, stop dramatizing," she said coldly. "The grave has no name—no one will accuse us of desecrating a noble's resting place. Just dig."
Tyler shot Leo a desperate look, but Leo only shrugged. "She's got a point."
"Unbelievable," Tyler muttered, grabbing a shovel. "Why do we have to dig and not her?"
Eileen smirked. "Because nuns don't dig graves."
They swallowed hard and began. The sound of metal biting into earth echoed in the silence. Inch by inch, the hole deepened—dark soil clinging to their boots, sweat streaking their foreheads.
After a meter and a half, Leo leaned on his shovel, panting. "Nothing. Not even bones. I think we're wasting our time."
"Stop," Eileen whispered suddenly. Her voice was tight, trembling. "There's nothing here. Not this deep. But I... I feel something's wrong."
Her pulse quickened; a chill raced up her spine. "We need to leave. Now."
Tyler glanced up at her from the pit, scoffing. "What's wrong with you? It's just an empty grave, you coward."
But her face had gone white, her breaths short and frantic. "Get out! Both of you, now!"
They only laughed. "Relax, Eileen. There's nothing—hey, Leo, move over, why are you—"
"Tyler," Leo interrupted, voice shaking. "Am I seeing things, or is the hole... getting deeper?"
Tyler looked around, his grin fading. "Deeper... and narrower."
"Eileen!" Leo shouted. "She looks farther away!"
The walls of the pit began to tremble. The earth shifted, closing in on them, the grave sinking lower and lower as if the ground itself were devouring them.
"This is impossible!" Tyler roared, clawing at the dirt.
"Grab my hand!" Eileen screamed, stretching her arm toward them, but no matter how far she reached, their fingers never met.
The pit convulsed, swallowing them whole. Soil poured in from all sides, heavy and wet, filling their mouths, choking their cries.
And then—silence.
The earth settled. The grave was whole again.
"What they awakened that night... was never meant to see the light."