The night was cool.
The air hung heavy, soaked with dust and the scent of old trees. Leaves whispered faintly in the wind. Even the birds chirped more quietly than usual at this hour. The village slept. No candles burned in the windows, no rustling came from the houses. Only the faint creak of wood in the night reminded that people lived here.
A figure crawled along the street on all fours, its silhouette blending with the shadows. Small but broad‑shouldered, it moved slowly, stopping, tilting its head. It sniffed the air. In the moonlight, its alert ears flicked.
The creature halted before one of the houses and froze. A sound came from inside, weak, barely there. It grew still.
The clouds parted. Moonlight washed over the area.
A shape appeared on the road, fur bristled, paws broad and powerful. A dog, but far too big, too strong for any yard mutt. It stared into the darkness, its ears twitching, catching movement. Its eyes flashed red, locking onto something beneath the house.
"There you are, you bastard!"
The dog jerked, baring its fangs. But it didn't have time. Steel sliced through the air, followed by a short, muted thud.
The body collapsed, paws twitching. The head rolled aside, stopping in a puddle of blood. The earth drank it in. The air filled with the coppery smell.
A tall figure stepped out of the darkness and approached the body unhurriedly. Took the dog's head by the ear, turned it as if examining it, then tossed it aside. Kicked the body over to check it.
"Oh for fuck's sake," an irritated voice muttered. "How long do we have to chase this filth? I've got better things to do while we're out here catching bitches in the night like idiots."
Paul wiped his blade on his trouser leg, careless, and slid it back into the sheath. Grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder.
Footsteps sounded behind him. Another figure approached and snorted.
"Can we go home now?" Paul grumbled.
He turned to the newcomer and looked him over. It was an elf in the standard armor of a guard, the kind issued to everyone who joined Duke Boreas's personal guard. Paul wore the same armor.
The elf shot him an annoyed glance and listened.
"Not yet. Two more wandering around. This one wasn't alone," Rowls said, frowning slightly and pointing.
"More? Seriously?"
"Yes. Focus."
Rowls adjusted his bag and continued on, drawing his sword.
"Haaah... Damn it, instead of being at home I'm chasing these mutts," Paul exhaled, wiping sweat from his forehead. His fingers clamped around the hilt. "My wife..."
"Your wife will be fine. Lilia knows what she's doing," Rowls cut him off without even looking at him. He nodded, as if confirming it.
He hadn't finished speaking when a rustle came from the bushes. A second later, another from the opposite side. The faint scrape of claws on stone. Then a moment's hesitation.
Beasts
Swords tore free of their sheaths.
Rowls swung downward sharply and stepped back. At that signal Paul lunged forward, dodging the creature's charge, grabbing its hind legs. Rowls struck down to keep it from breaking free, the head rolling across the ground. In an instant they killed it without making a sound, leaving behind a deep pool of blood.
Skriiiiii!
A shriek erupted nearby. Rowls spun his blade. A wave of air rushed forward, slicing through the leaves.
"There!"
They heard a dull impact, and the bushes parted, revealing the beast. Blood gushed from its wounded neck, running down its fur.
The creature staggered, hobbling as blood poured from the torn flesh. Paul charged. A strike, and the head fell to the ground, rolling toward the other corpse.
"Hmph... These things keep crawling out like flies on shit..."
They fell silent, examining the beasts. The moon dragged them out of the shadows, showing them in full.
Long heads with predatory muzzles, dotted with small bony growths forming a crest along the spine. Their jaws opened wider than they should, revealing multiple rows of curved fangs.
Alone they were more disgusting than dangerous, but once they gathered in a pack, everything changed.
These creatures had attacked villages near forests and mountains more than once. Though they posed little threat to seasoned fighters, any one of them could easily tear apart a grown man.
That was why Duke Boreas ordered close watch over areas with increased magical beast activity. Paul and Rowls were the guards protecting the village from such threats. It was their duty, and they had no choice, leaving danger unchecked meant putting people at risk.
"Looks like that was the last one," Rowls said, kneeling and touching the ground. "I don't hear anything else."
"Good. I'll go ahead. Grab the bodies, we'll sell them to the alchemists later," Paul muttered to himself, turned sharply, and dashed off toward his home.
"..."
Rowls didn't respond and silently began gathering the corpses.
***
Paul walked fast, not looking back. The moon slipped behind the clouds. His breath grew heavy, his thoughts darker by the second.
The worry didn't let go, but that was normal, right? Any husband worries when he leaves his wife alone at a time like this. And yet something scraped at him from within, refusing to let him rest. He couldn't place it, but it was there.
What if something was happening right now, something he needed to be ready for? What if he belonged there, beside her? But duty was duty. He couldn't drop everything. Couldn't afford such stupidity.
His heart pounded, his palms sweated. His thoughts tangled, but his body moved faster. He reached the house, vaulted the fence. Without pausing, shoved the door open.
Inside was dark. The stairs up looked longer than usual. He jumped two steps at a time. Three doors. Silence. Something was wrong. Paul crept to the first room and pushed the door.
Warm light from magical orbs wavered on the walls. White curtains trembled in a faint breeze. The silence felt unnatural. His chest tightened with dread.
Lilia sat beside her, pale, gaunt. Her eyes met his.
"Paul..." the words barely reached him from somewhere to the right.
He looked at the bed.
Zenith lay on the blanket, exhausted, weak. On her chest lay a tiny body. Still. Silent.
The child was dead.
For a moment Paul forgot how to breathe. His legs refused to move farther, as if something held him in place. He knew he had to go. He had to be there.
Paul stepped closer, dropped to his knees beside his wife. His fingers trembled as he gently touched the tiny body. The baby's skin was cold, strangely pale, and the small fingers didn't curl around his.
Paul felt something tear inside him. The world shrank to this room.
"But... why?.." his voice came out dull and ragged.
"The child wasn't ready. He just... didn't want to live."
Zenith turned away, her shoulders slumping. Her eyes were red, but no tears fell, as if she no longer had strength for it. She looked drained, hollow. The spark Paul loved in her was gone.
Hundreds of thoughts surged through Paul's mind. More with each passing second.
All his hopes collapsed today. The joy meant for three. The happiness meant for two. All gone.
In the magical light Paul pulled the little body close, noticing how defenseless it seemed now.
But at the moment when everything felt final, something impossible happened.
Paul felt the faintest movement. Almost nothing. A tiny breath fluttered in the child's chest.
Everything froze.
And then, from somewhere within that silence, came a sound.
Soft, barely audible.
But it was there.
A cry. Weak, shaky. A second later it grew louder. Louder. Then broke into a sharp, clear scream full of life.
His child was alive.
Lilia exhaled, the tension finally easing from her shoulders. Her gaze flicked from Zenith to Paul.
Zenith froze, her lips trembling, her eyes widening as if she couldn't believe any of it.
"He's alive..." her voice cracked.
She sucked in a shaky breath, but the words stuck in her throat.
Paul held the child tighter, feeling him move. Breathe. The tension fled, but the pain and fear remained. He looked at his wife. She covered her mouth with both hands, and at last tears broke free — big, heavy drops streaming down her cheeks.
She pressed a hand to her forehead, her shoulders shaking. She was choking on emotion.
Paul let out a long breath. His body trembled from everything overflowing inside. He didn't know how long it lasted, but the tears he had held back for so long finally surfaced.
The child cried. His wail echoed through the room. Tore through the silence.
And Paul knew — he would remember that cry for the rest of his life.