The dull rain and the distant murmur of the city seemed to fade away before the memory. In the twilight of memory, Yam and Dum relived the days of their childhood, marked by a transcendent duality. In an old but very modest house far from the city, made of bricks worn by time, the echo of children's laughter mingled with the din of severe lessons.
From a very young age, Yam and Dum were forged in an environment where order and discipline were as rigid as the family structure. Their father, a man with a relentless gaze and a voice that did not tolerate weakness, descended from a tribe of hunters and stood as the arbiter of their destiny. He maintained the old customs of his tribe and educated the children in the art of hunting. While Dum showed an innate ability for combat and concentration from an early age, Yam seemed to move in the shadows, always in the background.
In the backyard, their father trained his sons with harsh methods, demanding perfection in every blow, in every movement. Dum absorbed the lessons with almost natural speed, while Yam, despite showing flashes of talent, seemed to struggle against an internal force that pulled him away from the light. Their father's favoritism was no secret.
Dum was acclaimed for his sharpness, strength, and obedience; Yam, on the other hand, was viewed with a certain indifference, as if his spirit were marked by a darkness that no one could understand. The nights were filled with reproaches and demands, and each training session left an invisible scar on Yam's soul, a reminder that, despite his inner struggle and effort, he would always remain in his brother's shadow.
On the day they were born, their mother, a woman with scarlet lips, long silver hair, and amber eyes, was assisted in a city hospital. The screams that lasted for hours in a room gave way to absolute silence where Yam was held by his father, and later Dum was born, who was placed on his mother's chest. Both babies were born strong and healthy.
The children grew and developed very quickly. By the age of 8, Dum was already very skilled with the sword, while Yam lagged far behind. He was a very intelligent boy, but Dum made him look like a normal, ordinary child, even though neither of them was.
Amidst so many undeserved reproaches, Yam gradually took refuge in a darkness that he could no longer contain. Despite everything, his mother secretly pampered him, and this helped him to remain in the light.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" said his mother in an angelic voice that made little Yam relax.
"Nothing, Mom," he said, drying his tears with his fists.
"Come here for a second. I have a book you're going to love."
Yam's face was brimming with excitement; books fascinated him.
"Really? Does it have lots of strange words?"
His mother replied with a smile that radiated serenity, "Of course, I'll help you with the ones you don't know the meaning of."
Little Yam, who took refuge in the books his mother gave him, had to bear the cross of being worse than his younger brother and at the same time a great evil that dwelled within him, but even so, he found a way to overcome it, to defeat it. Instead of a sword, he decided to use an old, worn-out nunchaku he found in the barn, with which he managed to beat Dum for the first time.
However, his father did not recognize his victory and gave Dum a long sword that belonged to him and made them fight twice more, in which Dum was victorious, which devastated the very hopeful Yam. But the most painful memory loomed over one particular night. The family home, which had been the center of his upbringing, became the scene of a tragedy that would change their lives forever.
On the eve of his ninth birthday, everything changed.
The moon hung over the forest like a pale, indifferent eye. Dum, with his sword slung over his shoulder, was returning home empty-handed. He had gone out hunting, but had failed to catch anything. His pride was hurt, as for the second time in his memory he would disappoint his father, but his pride did not blind him so much that he failed to recognize that he needed help:
"Dad," he called as he entered the house, "I didn't get anything tonight, but if we go out together at dawn..."
A familiar smell briefly passed through Dum's nose.
Everything was silent. The air felt dense, heavy, as if something were pressing down on it from within. Dum frowned. He walked cautiously through the house, observing his surroundings in detail. Nothing seemed out of place until he reached the dining room. The furniture was overturned. Broken plates were scattered across the floor. A metallic scent permeated the air, and a trail of blood led up the stairs.
Dum swallowed hard and gripped the hilt of his sword. He climbed the stairs with calculated steps, feeling each step creak under his weight, and as he got closer, he heard a sound that only a wild animal would make while eating.
And then, when he reached his father's room, he saw him. Yam was bent over his father's lifeless body, his hands buried in his abdomen, his mouth red with blood as he devoured the still-warm flesh. Dum felt his stomach churn. His older brother, the clumsy, quiet boy, was tearing apart his own father's body like a wild animal.
"Yam..." His voice broke, more from disbelief than fear.
The boy looked up.
His eyes were not his brother's. They were dark wells, with no trace of humanity. Yam let out a guttural growl, as if words were foreign to him, and moved into a position that looked like he was about to pounce on Dum.
Dum didn't hesitate. In a single movement, he drew his sword and cut off his brother's head. Blood splattered the walls, covered his face, and slid across the floor like a thick river. Yam's body fell without resistance, while his head rolled to the feet of his mother, who lay motionless on the floor at the sight.
Dum gasped, his mind slow to process what he had just done. But he had no time to take it in. Yam fell into a darkness that seemed to swallow him up. In an instant, black chains emerged around his body, enveloping him and pulling him into an unknown place, while his head sank, separating him from the world he knew.
The chaos of that night left scars that would linger in the brothers' souls. Dum, an unwitting witness and participant in the tragedy, vowed to eradicate everything that reminded him of that horror in order to protect his mother and prevent those dark creatures from killing more people. His heart, hardened by loss, was filled with a hatred that would fuel his mission: to hunt down the Bearers, those who had emerged from resentment, hatred, and despair.
For his part, Yam was plunged into a darkness that transcended physical pain. The image of his father being devoured was etched into his mind, and guilt mingled with a deep hatred for himself for not being able to control what was inside him. The transformation that began that night marked his destiny: a destiny doomed to be reborn as the Bearers, to live trapped in a cycle of death and hatred, unable to escape the echo of his own doom. Every scream, every tear shed on that fateful night, became a brick in the wall that would separate the brothers forever. The wound that opened that night was not only physical; it was the beginning of an internal struggle, a battle that would define his existence and mark his path in a world where light was almost irrelevant, and where every shadow hid the resentment of a past that refused to die.