The smell of blood clung to the boy's nostrils.
The pain of his broken leg barely registered compared to the sight of his family being torn apart by that creature.
No — it was not a terrifying monster in the usual sense.
It was a monster with beautiful features.
Its deep crimson eyes almost blended with the colors of the evening sky. His father lay thrown aside, his body motionless like a scarecrow abandoned in a wheat field. From the old cabin, only his mother's pale legs were visible, unmoving. And his sister… his sister was held in the arms of a man whose hair was so blond it looked almost silver.
Moments later, his older sister's body went limp as well — an empty shell, drained of blood. The man tossed her aside as if she were nothing more than useless meat.
With slow, almost feline steps, he approached the boy.
Each step brought him closer. The boy was frozen in terror. His breathing was ragged, his knee bent backward at an impossible angle. His leg no longer felt like part of his body.
The man watched the scene with a brutal smile, as if intoxicated by it. He leaned toward the child's neck — the boy could not have been more than five years old — but stopped by his ear and whispered:
"Little pig… little pig. What a waste it would be to let such sweet blood as your family's simply run dry. You were all so kind, offering food to a weary traveler… and I certainly ate well."
He chuckled softly.
"But you will grow. Your body will produce more blood… perhaps even more descendants. There is something exquisitely sweet in the nectar of your family's veins — something I cannot allow to end here."
His warm breath brushed against the boy's skin.
"I will let you live so you may cultivate more of that juice for me. Do not dare die, boy. You are an investment — one I fully intend to collect." He took the handkerchief the sister had kindly given him, now soaked in that metallic scent. "Do not worry. The sun will rise soon. Someone will see the smoke on the horizon. Now I will be leaving, little pig. Thank you for the meal."
Numb with pain, the boy could not make a sound. Only his uneven breathing broke the crackling of dying embers and the distant hum of night insects.
But something inside him boiled.
Not only because his family had been destroyed — but because of the smile.
That cynical smile.
The blood trickling from the corner of the man's mouth.
_He is smiling._
_My family was slaughtered… and he is smiling._
_I will kill you,_ he swore silently. _No matter how long it takes. Silver-haired man… I will find you and I will kill you._
The creature heard the whispered promise. Watched the boy lose consciousness. Only then did it decide to leave.
It feared the dawn.
---
Hours later, the great sun began to rise, bathing the village in cruel light.
It was not only the boy's family that had been massacred. Bodies hung dry and hollow along the narrow alleys. Others were piled together, twisted and broken. Limbs and flesh were scattered everywhere. It was a scene of absolute horror.
The sunlight touched the boy's forehead like a warm hand trying to comfort him.
He was awake. He kept his eyes shut, wishing it was all nothing more than a nightmare brought on by a heavy meal the night before. But closing his eyes did not block the smell of dried blood — nor the searing pain of his twisted leg.
_What right do I have to feel pain?_ he wondered.
He was alive. Not even the animals — not even the other children — had been spared.
He dragged himself out of what had once been his home. Dazed, nearly anesthetized, he crawled past rubble and corpses. It was not a sight any child should endure, yet he moved forward, driven by something he did not fully understand.
He reached his sister's body.
She had been beautiful. Black hair, pale skin. She was old enough to worry about romance and marriage. More than that, she loved him deeply. She had cared for him while their parents worked the fields surrounding the village.
Now her eyes no longer reflected the sacred light of the sun.
He did not dare search for his parents' bodies. The memories of the night returned like blades.
The kitchen.
The wine offered to the traveler.
The sudden movement.
The bite at his mother's neck.
Two seconds.
His father's futile attack with a fire poker. The creature's inhuman strength. His sister frozen in a silent scream. And the silver-haired man, savoring every moment.
When the boy tried to rush forward, a single kick struck his knee. The joint bent backward. The pain stole all strength from his body. Laughter echoed through the night.
Remembering it hurt more than his leg.
Every time he blinked, he saw that face.
That careless smile.
He remembered the promise he had made — and the promise the creature had made in return. That it would come back to collect its investment.
There was nothing he could do now.
He tried to drag his sister's body closer to the rest of the family, but his small, fragile body could not manage it. Frustrated, he struck his own face, hating himself for being so weak. Unlike the hunters from the merchants' stories — the heroes told to children around village fires.
The only thing he could do was try to save his leg.
At the village well, he tied a rope around his injured foot and the other end to a bucket filled with stones. He braced himself against a cart with one hand. In the other, he held a knife, ready to cut the rope at the right moment.
It seemed logical to a child in shock.
The bucket fell.
Pain exploded through him. He lost his grip on the cart. The knife slipped from his hand. His body was dragged toward the well until the bucket struck the bottom.
Luck or misfortune — it did not matter.
The pain dragged him into unconsciousness, leaving him hanging upside down.
Hours passed.
The sound of hooves echoed at the village entrance. Three horses. Sunburned and dehydrated, the boy tried to scream. A figure dismounted.
"What did this idiot try to do?" a rough voice asked.
"Look at his knee," said a woman with hair like burning fire. "He tried to set it back using the bucket's weight. Didn't account for the shock of pain. Idiotic child."
She picked up the knife, cut the rope near his foot, and caught the small body before it hit the ground.
The boy lost consciousness again in her arms.