The village lay beneath the full moon in unnatural silence. Silver light washed over crooked rooftops and narrow streets, turning every shadow long and distorted. Torches burned low, their flames barely moving, as if the night itself was holding its breath. Doors were shut. Windows dark. Even the wind refused to pass through the alleys.
The Elder's house stood at the heart of the village like a silent judge.
Its wooden walls were older than most of the villagers themselves, carved with symbols whose meanings had long been forgotten but whose power was still feared. Torches burned along the outer pillars, their flames steady, too steady, as if even fire dared not waver here.
Inside, a long table stretched across the hall.
It was filled-overflowing-with food.
Roasted meats glazed with honey and herbs. Fresh bread, still steaming. Bowls of fruit, wine, warm soup, and sweets are made only for festivals. A feast worthy of celebration.
Yet the room felt colder than the forest at night.
At the head of the table sat a single, oversized chair taller than the rest, carved with ritual markings. And upon it sat Fiona.
She did not touch the food.
She did not look at it.
She sat still, back straight, hands resting limply on her lap, eyes hollow and unfocused as if her soul had already stepped halfway out of her body.
"So this is my last meal…"
The thought passed through her mind without emotion.
Food. Warmth. Taste. Pleasure.
All of it felt meaningless.
What use was a full stomach to a girl who would not see another sunrise?
Her fingers trembled faintly-not from fear of death, but from the effort of holding herself together.
"Eris…"
Her chest tightened.
"As long as you live… It's enough."
Footsteps echoed softly across the wooden floor.
The village elder approached slowly, leaning on his staff. His face was calm, lined with age and authority, but his eyes… his eyes were tired. Not kind. Not cruel. Just heavy.
He stopped beside the table.
"Fiona, my child," he said gently. "I know… this is not a joyful moment."
She did not look at him.
"I know how you feel in this situation," he continued, voice low, measured. "But you must understand… we have no other choice."
Silence.
"Today," the elder said, "through your sacrifice… the world will sleep peacefully. Our village will endure. Countless lives will be spared."
He gestured lightly toward the table.
"Tonight, the world's fate rests in your hands."
Finally, Fiona laughed.
It was quiet. Broken. Empty.
She lifted her head, her eyes red—not from crying now, but from something far deeper. Rage. Grief. Burned-out despair.
"You fools…" she said, her voice cold and cracking.
"Do you really think I'm some kind of saviour?"
Her hands clenched.
"You think I'm sacrificing myself for the world?"
Her voice rose, trembling with fury.
"No. Don't flatter yourselves."
Tears spilt freely now, dripping onto the tablecloth.
"I'm doing this for my sister," Fiona spat.
"Only for her. For Eris."
Her breath shook violently.
"If this keeps her alive… if this keeps her away from this cursed village-then I don't care what happens to me."
The elder said nothing.
For a moment, the old man looked… smaller.
Then he turned away.
"Eat," he said quietly. "At least… before you leave."
He walked out without another word.
The door closed.
The feast remained untouched.
Not far away, hurried footsteps approached the elder.
A man-broad-shouldered, younger, his face twisted with anger-bowed sharply but spoke without restraint.
"Father," he said harshly. "I warned you."
The elder stopped.
"The healer is planning something," the man continued. "He's working with outsiders. I told you this would happen."
His fists clenched.
"They plan to stop the ritual. And yet you let them move freely?"
The elder turned slowly, eyes calm.
"I told you," he replied, "this ritual is not as simple as you believe."
The son stared at him.
"Then why let them interfere?!"
A pause.
"If this truly is the end," the elder said quietly, "then it cannot be changed. Fate, once sealed, cannot be undone."
The son's eyes widened.
"…You mean," he whispered, "the seal?"
For the first time, unease flickered across the elder's face.
"I never wished to use it," he admitted. "But in this situation… we have no choice."
The son straightened.
"Then allow me, father," he said firmly. "They will attack us. Let me defend our village."
The elder studied him for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
The son turned and ran.
Outside, his voice rang through the streets.
"Everyone! Gather now!"
"We will show these outsiders who we are!"
Torches flared as villagers poured from their homes, fear twisting into fury. Armed with fire, tools, and blind faith, they surged toward the healer's house.
His words spread faster than fire.
"They're at the healer's place!" someone yelled.
And like a tide drawn by the moon, they rushed
But the healer's house was already empty.
Kaelira had known.
The moment the man's eyes shifted-when fear turned into decision-she had felt it. A quiet certainty settled in her chest, cold and sharp.
"They'll come," she had said.
And so they moved.
Not through the door.
Through the back-where the walls leaned close and the shadows grew thick enough to hide intent. Kaelira led, her steps soundless. Edward followed, hand resting on the hilt of his weapon. Eris stayed close, breath shallow, eyes wide. The healer brought up the rear, lantern wrapped and dimmed, guiding them through paths only those born here could know.
Behind them, voices erupted.
Torches flickered past windows.
"They were here!"
"Search every alley!"
"Don't let them escape!"
Firelight crawled along the walls like living things.
They slipped into the veins of the village.
Narrow passages, half-collapsed fences, abandoned sheds-places where footsteps were swallowed and whispers vanished. The healer moved with the certainty of memory, turning left, then right, then stopping just long enough to listen.
"Quiet," he murmured.
A group of villagers passed only a few steps away, torches raised, flames snapping in the wind. One of them laughed nervously.
"They can't hide forever."
Kaelira's jaw tightened.
They waited until the voices faded.
Then they moved again.
At last, they reached a narrow clearing between two old storehouses, long abandoned. The healer raised a hand, signalling them to stop.
For a heartbeat, no one spoke.
Only the distant crackle of fire and the restless murmur of the village filled the air.
Kaelira turned to face them.
"Everyone remembers what I said," she spoke, her voice low but firm. "No matter what happens no sudden moves. No heroics."
One by one, they nodded.
Eris swallowed hard. The healer closed his eyes briefly, as if reciting a prayer.
Edward nodded too.
But Kaelira saw it.
The tension in his shoulders. The way his gaze lingered just a moment too long on the darkness ahead.
Worry.
She stepped closer, lowering her voice so only he could hear.
"Hey," she said gently. "Don't worry. Meera will be safe."
Edward's jaw tightened.
"She's in a safe place," Kaelira continued. "Trust in Alan."
For a second, Edward didn't answer.
Then he exhaled, a slow breath that carried fear with it.
"…Yeah," he said, forcing a small smile. "I know. If it's him… he'll manage."
Kaelira returned the smile-brief, but real.
They moved again.
This time toward the heart of the village.
The Elder's house stood ahead, looming in the dark like a silent judge, its windows unlit, its presence heavy with authority and secrets.
Behind them, the village burned brighter.
And somewhere beyond the fire and fear, fate was already tightening its grip.
Because the night had only just begun.
**********
Beyond the village, beneath the cold canopy of the forest, Alan kept Meera close as they hid in the shadows, every sound making his grip tighten, every heartbeat a promise to protect her.
The forest shelter was narrow—roots and stone forming a shallow hollow beneath an old tree. It smelled of damp earth and old rain. A place made for hiding, not living.
Alan's shadows were clinging to his cloak as if they were afraid to leave him. His eyes stayed fixed on the narrow path ahead-the one the others had taken to save Eris's sister.
Meera sat a little behind him.
Far enough to be alone. Close enough not to disappear.
Minutes passed. Maybe longer. Time felt meaningless here.
Then she spoke.
"Do you know what hurts the most, Alan?"
He didn't turn. But he answered.
"Eh.. losing someone important"
Meera let out a weak, humourless breath.
"No that can fade by time… It's knowing the truth and still having to live with it."
Then Meera continued. Her voice was low, like she didn't want the forest to hear.
"When people look at me… they see strength."
She gave a quiet, hollow laugh.
"A warrior. A survivor. A woman who never bends."
Her fingers clenched slowly.
"But strength isn't endless, Alan. It just lasts longer before it collapses."
Alan swallowed. He shifted his weight, unsure whether to sit, speak, or stay silent. Silence felt wrong. But words felt heavier.
She continued anyway.
"I've lived my whole life as something useful."
"A shield. A blade. A wall."
She looked at him then.
"Do you know what it's like… to wake up and feel like you exist only because others need you to?"
Alan opened his mouth.
Nothing came out. His thoughts tangled—Edward's laughter, Kaelira standing alone in moonlight, Renfar bleeding but smiling, Eris begging him to help.
He finally said, awkward, uneven:
"…I don't know what to say."
Meera nodded. "That's honest."
She took a breath. A long one.
"Edward is alive because I refused to die."
Alan stiffened slightly.
She stared at the dirt.
"I raised him alone. Fed him with hands that were shaking. Taught him to smile when I wanted to scream. Every joke he makes… that's something I forced into the world so he wouldn't see how ugly it really is."
Her voice wavered—but she didn't stop.
"He thinks his father was a good man. A soldier who died somewhere far away."
Silence thickened.
"That's a lie."
Alan's chest tightened.
She closed her eyes.
"I worked in the castle once. Cleaning halls, serving nobles who never looked at my face."
"A prince noticed me."
She didn't say more than that. She didn't have to.
"He wasn't someone I loved."
"He was someone who took."
Alan's hands curled into fists before he realised it.
Her voice dropped-cold, steady.
"I killed him."
The forest didn't react.
Neither did Alan-at least, not outwardly.
"After that, I ran. From the kingdom. From my name. That's when I met Renfar."
A shadow crossed her face-something like gratitude mixed with grief.
"He didn't ask questions. He just… helped."
"Taught me to fight. To survive. To protect."
She laughed softly, bitter.
"I became a warrior so my son would never have to be one."
Alan's throat burned.
She looked at him again.
"I lied to Edward because the truth would break something gentle inside him."
"And now…" Her shoulders finally sagged.
"I feel like a wight..... Still walking. Still fighting. But already dead inside."
The words hit Alan harder than any blade.
He crouched down, clumsy, uncertain. He stared at the ground as he spoke, because looking at her felt like too much.
"…Edward once told me," he said slowly, "that jokes are easier than truth."
She blinked.
He continued, voice rough, unpolished.
"He laughs when things hurt. I thought he was just… carefree." He shook his head.
"Now I think… he learned that from you."
Meera said nothing.
Alan struggled for words, his voice breaking its own rhythm.
"I don't know how to comfort people."
"I don't even understand myself."
He pressed a hand to his chest.
"But… I've seen people like you keep moving even when they shouldn't have to."
Images flickered through him-Kaelira standing alone, Renfar choosing to stay, Edward stepping forward despite fear.
"You're not alive because you're useful," he said, unsure, almost questioning himself.
"You're alive because… You chose to be."
He finally looked at her.
"And maybe you're tired because you carried everything alone."
His voice dropped.
"You shouldn't have had to."
For a long moment, Meera didn't move.
Then her breath hitched.
Just once.
She turned her face away, not hiding tears-but refusing to let them fall.
"You're not good at this," she murmured.
He nodded immediately.
"I know."
That made her let out a quiet, broken laugh.
In the distance, a faint signal echoed through the trees-the others were close.
Meera wiped her face. Her back was still heavy.
Her past is still bleeding.
But when she looked at Alan,
There was something softer there. Not hope.
But recognition.
And sometimes… that was enough to keep walking.
**********
Moonlight barely touched the village now. The torches that once burned proudly along the paths had been dimmed, as if the village itself was holding its breath.
Kaelira moved first.
Her footsteps made no sound as she slipped past the wooden gate of the Elder's house, her body flowing like a shadow. Edward followed, crouched low, grinning nervously despite the danger. Eris stayed close to him, her fingers trembling around the dagger hidden beneath her cloak. The old healer brought up the rear, his breathing shallow, eyes sharp with familiarity.
One by one, they passed the guards.
A turned head.
A distracted yawn.
A moment of silence.
And they were inside.
The interior of the Elder's house was far larger than it appeared from outside-long corridors stretching like veins, doors lining both sides, each one sealed in quiet secrecy.
Eris leaned closer to Edward and whispered, her voice barely louder than breath.
"Hey… Edward. There are too many rooms. How are we supposed to find my sister?"
Before Edward could answer, Kaelira raised a hand for silence. Her eyes scanned the hall, alert, calculating.
"We don't have a choice," Kaelira whispered calmly. "We search everywhere. And we do it fast."
The healer stepped forward, his voice cracked but steady.
"I've been here many times," he murmured. "There are private chambers… places no one enters without permission. She might be there."
Kaelira nodded.
"Good. Then lead us."
Her gaze hardened for a moment as she added,
"And remember-we return to Alan once this is done. After that… we execute the other plan. No hesitation."
The group reached a crossing corridor. Kaelira stopped.
"We split," she said. "Two and two."
Edward raised an eyebrow. "Ah yes. The classic move."
Kaelira shot him a warning look.
"If anything goes wrong, use the item I gave you. Don't try to be a hero."
Edward placed a hand on his chest dramatically. "You wound me."
"…Go."
Kaelira and the healer slipped toward the upper levels, disappearing into the shadows. Edward and Eris moved down the right corridor, the air growing colder with every step.
The silence pressed against their ears.
They opened one room. Empty.
Another-storage.
Another-ritual tools stained with dried blood.
Eris swallowed.
Then-
CLANK.
Edward froze.
From behind them, torches ignited all at once.
Guards stepped out from hidden doors, bows raised, glowing arrows humming with condensed mana.
Edward's eyes went wide.
"Oh shit."
Eris grabbed his arm. "Run!"
They bolted.
Arrows screamed past them, slamming into walls, shattering wood, burning holes through stone. Edward laughed breathlessly as he ran.
"Okay-okay—this is definitely worse than sneaking!"
They turned a corner-
BOOM.
The floor cracked beneath them as something heavy landed in front of their path.
A massive armoured figure straightened slowly. Thick plates of iron covered his body, etched with ancient runes. A sword as tall as a man rested casually on his shoulder.
He smiled.
Not kindly.
Eris stopped dead. Edward skidded beside her, staring up.
Edward let out a shaky chuckle.
"Haha… oh my. Yeah. I think this is gonna be a problem."
Elsewhere - Above the Silence
Kaelira climbed along the outer wall of the house, fingers gripping stone with inhuman precision. The healer followed with difficulty, sweat dripping down his brow.
They reached a narrow window.
Kaelira slid it open and dropped inside.
The room was dark. Too dark.
The air was heavy-thick with something unspoken. Kaelira felt it immediately. A pressure. A wrongness.
She stepped forward.
Moonlight spilt through the window, illuminating a lone figure standing at the centre of the room.
A girl in a white dress.
Bare feet.
Flower crown resting gently on her head.
Eyes hollow. Lifeless.
"…Fiona," the healer whispered, his voice breaking.
Kaelira narrowed her eyes.
"You must be her sister."
The healer nodded silently.
Kaelira took a step closer-
Then stopped.
Her hand slowly moved to her weapon.
"I know you're here," she said coldly, her voice cutting through the darkness.
"Come out."
The healer shuddered.
From the shadows behind Fiona, a figure emerged.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
An old man stepped forward, his expression calm, almost pleased.
The Elder.
Kaelira turned fully toward him.
"…So you're the Elder."
His smile widened, but there was no warmth in it.
"Brave," he said quietly. "Very brave. You're more then what I expected."
He raised one hand.
The walls shifted.
Hidden doors burst open as guards flooded the room, weapons aimed. Chains of glowing seals snapped around the healer and Kaelira's limbs, locking them in place.
The healer screamed, struggling.
"You monster! You fools don't you understand what you're doing?!"
The Elder didn't even look at him.
Kaelira stared directly into the Elder's eyes, unflinching, her voice calm despite the restraints tightening around her.
"…So this is how you protect your village."
The Elder leaned closer, his shadow swallowing her.
"No," he whispered.
"This is how we survive."