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Morning in Black Hollow – A Village's Joy
The morning sun bathed Black Hollow in golden light, its rays cutting through the thick mist that often rolled in from the nearby forest. The village, hidden from the chaos of the world, had always been a place of quiet resilience.
But today, the air buzzed with excitement.
The people of Black Hollow had gathered in front of the Lord's residence, waiting for a glimpse of the newborns.
The moment Modred stepped outside, a loud cheer erupted.
"Congratulations, my lord!"
"A strong father means strong daughters! May they grow as fierce as you!"
"Or may they grow kind like their mother!"
Modred stood at the top of the stone steps, arms crossed, his crimson eyes scanning the crowd.
Despite the warmth of the occasion, he still exuded an unshakable presence, his broadened frame and defined muscles adding to the aura of someone not to be challenged.
Then—his gaze shifted.
Seraphina appeared behind him, holding both of their daughters.
The crowd fell silent for a moment.
She was… radiant.
Her red hair cascaded elegantly down her back, but her soft expression held a playfulness that made her even more breathtaking.
She looked like royalty… yet held the charm of a mischievous spirit.
Modred barely had time to react before she nudged him with her elbow, grinning.
"You're supposed to smile, my Lord. Or do you plan on scaring everyone away?"
A few villagers chuckled.
Modred exhaled, glancing down at his daughters in her arms. Sylva and Lyra stirred softly, unaware of the eyes watching them.
"…They're too young to be paraded around like this."
Seraphina pouted, leaning into him. "Oh? You weren't saying that last night when you refused to let them out of your arms."
Some of the older women in the crowd giggled.
"The lord is a doting father already, I see!"
Modred's eye twitched.
Dante, who had been watching from the side, smirked.
"So, the Demon Lord has gone soft?"
Before Modred could respond, Seraphina turned to the villagers.
"Come, come! You all wanted to see them, didn't you?"
She carefully lowered Sylva and Lyra slightly, revealing their tiny faces.
The reaction was instant.
Gasps. Murmurs. Smiles.
"By the gods, look at those eyes…"
"Their blood runs strong. These children are marked for greatness."
"Twins! Truly a blessing."
Some of the elderly women approached first, offering woven blankets and hand-crafted wooden charms.
A young boy, barely ten, stepped forward nervously.
In his hands was a small, carved wooden fox.
"…F-For them, my Lord. Foxes are symbols of wisdom."
Modred took the small figurine, running his fingers over the rough edges.
The boy flinched slightly when Modred looked at him.
Then—Modred knelt, placing a hand on his head.
"Thank you. They will keep it always."
The boy's face turned red with pride.
Seraphina watched, smiling.
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Modred and His Daughters – A Father's Heart
As the crowd began to disperse, Modred finally had a moment of peace.
Back inside their home, he sat in a chair near the fire, holding both Sylva and Lyra in his arms.
Sylva, the black-haired twin, was quiet, barely stirring.
Lyra, the red-haired one, was already fussing, her tiny hands gripping the fabric of his cloak.
Seraphina sat on the armrest of his chair, watching him closely.
"You're good at this, you know."
Modred didn't respond immediately.
Instead, he slowly lifted one of his fingers, letting Lyra grab onto it with her tiny hand.
She squeezed, her strength laughably weak compared to him… yet it felt stronger than any force he had ever faced.
Sylva, in contrast, had already drifted back into silent slumber.
Modred's voice was quiet.
"…I never imagined this."
Seraphina leaned down, pressing a soft kiss against the side of his face.
"Neither did I. But here we are."
Modred inhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a brief moment.
This wasn't a dream.
This was real.
And he would protect it with everything he had.
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A War Looms – A Meeting of Shadows
As night fell, Modred, Dante, and an old war general sat in the main hall.
The general, a man named Gregor, was a hardened veteran with a scarred face and eyes that had seen too many wars.
He laid out a crude map of the surrounding forests.
"There have been sightings."
Modred's gaze darkened. "What kind?"
Gregor tapped the map.
"Creatures. Not normal beasts. Bigger. Smarter. Some say they have human-like features, twisted into monstrous forms."
Dante folded his arms. "Erebos?"
Gregor shook his head. "Not like the ones we fought before. These seem… different. Like something ancient is stirring."
The room fell into silence.
Then—Modred spoke.
"How many sightings?"
"Three, so far. Villagers are whispering, but no one wants to believe the old stories."
Dante leaned forward. "Then we should see it for ourselves."
Modred nodded, his voice cold, decisive.
"Prepare a scouting party. I want answers."
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Seraphina and Luna – Whispers of Fear
Meanwhile, Seraphina and Luna sat with the other women in the village, drinking herbal tea.
One of the older women, a former healer, spoke in a low, cautious voice.
"My grandmother used to speak of the creatures beyond the woods. She said they were once men, twisted by the old gods."
Seraphina's grip on her cup tightened slightly.
Luna frowned. "And now they're returning?"
The healer sighed. "Perhaps they never left. Perhaps they only slept—waiting for the right time to wake."
Seraphina exhaled slowly, glancing toward the main hall where Modred and the others were.
Something was coming.
And this time, it was not the Pantheon.
It was something older. Something forgotten.
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