Nova and Haru looked at each other.
"It can't be…" Haru mumbled, his throat dry.
They pushed forward, shoving through the murmuring villagers. Mira followed a few steps behind, clutching the edge of Nova's sleeve as if it were the only thing keeping her from breaking down. The air was thick — heavy with the smell of ash and the faint sting of smoke that still lingered after the fires.
When they finally broke through the circle of people, the sight before them froze them in place.
Near the old oak tree stood four figures — a boy kneeling, a motionless body lying before him, and two adults beside them. The woman's sobs tore through the silence like shattered glass. The man behind her had his arm wrapped around her shoulders, barely keeping her from collapsing.
Blood had seeped into the earth beneath the still boy's body, turning the dirt a dull, sick red.
From where Nova stood, he couldn't see their faces — only their trembling backs.
The boy on his knees had his head bowed, hands resting weakly on the ground, shoulders shaking with every breath. The woman kept calling out a name between gasps, her voice breaking again and again.
Nova's lips parted, but no sound came out. His stomach turned as realization crawled through him.
He took one slow step forward, then another.
Haru followed close behind.
The body's right arm was gone — cut clean from the elbow down. Blood stained the boy's hair and face, dried and dark against pale skin.
The woman clutched the body's chest, crying so hard it hurt to listen.
Then, as Nova and Haru drew closer, the kneeling boy turned.
And both of them stopped breathing.
"Tama…" Haru whispered.
He was alive.
Tama's eyes were red, swollen, his lips trembling. His face — streaked with tears and dirt — twisted with a grief so raw that Nova couldn't even move. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. The silence around them said enough.
Nova's pulse pounded in his ears. The dead boy. The missing arm. The blood.
He already knew.
And before he could process it — before he could even force the truth into words —
the world began to fade.
The cries softened. The smoke stilled.
Time slowed.
Everything dissolved into silence.
---
An hour and a half earlier…
The sun was bright that afternoon, gentle light spilling through the leaves of the oak tree that towered over the hill. Riku leaned against its rough bark, letting his legs rest after a long walk back from the market. He set down his small fruit basket, took a bite, and squinted at the sky. A few older men sat nearby, talking idly among themselves — five, maybe six — their laughter faint and calm. The area was mostly empty; there were no houses near the oak tree.
"A little rest won't hurt," he muttered, brushing a leaf off his shoulder.
It was peaceful — the kind of calm he'd always liked about this spot.
He smiled faintly —
Thrum.
The ground trembled beneath him, a low hum, almost like the earth itself was groaning. Far away, a strange light shot upward — faint but blinding, forming a short, flickering pillar that barely reached above a man's height.
When the light faded, it revealed two figures.
He couldn't quite make out what they were. Too far. Too distorted. But something about them… wasn't human.
"No… no way…" one of the men whispered, fear creeping into his tone. "It's too early…"
"Run," another stammered. "Run!"
They scattered, sprinting down the hill toward their homes. Riku took a few steps back, heart thudding in his chest. He didn't understand what was happening, but instinct screamed that it was bad.
Just as he turned to run, a sound reached him — faint screams from the other side of the village.
He froze.
Those weren't cries for help. They were screams of terror.
He looked again toward where the figures had appeared, but they were gone — lost among the chaos of people running and shouting.
"What the hell…"
More screams followed. Then roars — low, guttural, inhuman.
He didn't even know where to run now. Panic swallowed every thought. Smoke began to rise in the distance. The wind carried the smell of burning wood.
Having no choice, he ran toward home — toward the direction where those figures had appeared. But as he reached close to the spot, his steps faltered.
"Demons…"
He froze in place, staring in disbelief. Two figures — tall, twisted, their skin dark and rough as stone — rampaged through the streets like monsters from a nightmare. They tore through houses, dragged people out, their laughter distorted and cruel.
Riku's heart pounded. His first thought — run.
He darted behind a broken wall, crouching low. His breath came fast, sharp. Peeking through the cracks, he saw the chaos. People screaming. Bodies on the dirt road.
His hands trembled. He wanted to do something — anything — but fear nailed him to the ground.
Then one of the demons grabbed a child by the leg and threw him like a doll. Another slashed down a man trying to protect his wife.
Something inside Riku broke.
"Stop…" he whispered, voice shaking. "Stop it!"
Before he even realized it, he had stepped out of hiding.
He grabbed a rock, then another — hands trembling, heartbeat deafening in his ears.
He hurled the first one. It struck the nearest demon's back with a hard thud.
The creature stopped. Turned.
Riku didn't think. He threw the second rock.
"HEY!" he shouted. "Over here, you bastards!"
The demons hissed, their heads snapping toward him.
And Riku ran.
He sprinted toward the oak, lungs burning, the sound of claws scraping the ground closing in behind him. His mind screamed at him to climb — just get to the tree — but before his fingers could touch the trunk—
Swoosh.
A flash of silver.
A sickle swept across.
Thud.
Pain exploded through his arm as it fell down.
His world turned white.
"ARGHHH!"
He screamed as blood poured from what was left of his arm. The hand that had reached for the tree hit the ground a few feet away, twitching once before lying still.
He collapsed, gasping, tears and blood mixing on his face.
A shadow loomed over him.
A clawed hand grabbed the back of his head and lifted him like a toy.
Then—
Crack.
The demon slammed him against the oak.
Once.
Twice.
The bark split. Blood splattered the trunk.
His screams faded into whimpers… then silence.
The demons hissed and walked away, leaving him slumped against the tree — blood dripping from his hair, soaking the earth beneath him.
---
Back to the present…
The sound of crying rushed back like a wave.
Nova blinked, his eyes focusing on the scene before him — on Riku's body lying at the foot of that same oak.
His chest tightened painfully. He took a step forward, voice trembling.
"Tama…"
Tama didn't answer. His eyes were empty, staring into nothing, as if every sound, every face, had blurred into the same unbearable silence.
Riku's mother broke down completely, her screams echoing through the trees. The man beside her sank to his knees, head bowed, helpless.
Nova couldn't move. The air around him felt suffocating, pressing against his chest.
The oak tree stood tall above them, its roots soaked in red, its shadow long and cold across the ground.
And in that shadow, Nova finally understood.
This — this was what the demons left behind.
What they would all have to carry.
Forever.