Far away in another land, a great forest spread across the dark hills. Its pine wood trees were so tall that they seemed to reach the sky.
It was a moonless night, yet its light could be felt by the countless stars that wanted its favor
Then one of them moved.
It separated slowly at first, then faster, trailing gold behind it that widened as it felt. It was radiant and luminous. The light reached the trees before the object did, and the whole forest went bright like noon for three full seconds.
Then it hit.
The sound came first—a single crack, vast and flat that rolled outwards and kept going. Then the shockwave: a wall of displaced air that bent old pines sideways, tore loose bark and dead branches and sent them spinning into the dark.
A crater at 10 feet deep with its still glowing edges that turned the earth into dark glass by the heat formed.
And silence. The type that follows something the world has never seen before and does not know how to process.
A figure that was eight feet tall walked out of the crater.
Six wings came out of her back, her white hair swayed with the wind of the night and in her hands she carried a baby.
She walked through the forest in silence.
No bird nor insect made a sound, and even the most perilous creatures that dwelled in the night did not move a single inch.
Her statuesque figure and her alien presence showered them with fear.
The woman walked until she found what she was searching for.
A small village outside the forest.
Her figure blurred, and in the blink of an eye, she appeared in the middle of the village.
She then looked around the many houses with her golden eyes.
Most of the people of the village seemed to be already asleep in their homes.
She then walked to one house in particular.
She had to bow her head to stand beneath the door's canopy.
With her free hand, she placed her palm flat against the baby's chest. A red light moved from her hand into the baby.
Then it died.
"I am leaving a guardian with you…Victoria, she will protect you." She said, " and these people should be able to take care of you while I'm not here…"
She held the baby out and looked at him for a long moment. Then she pressed her lips on his forehead.
"I'll love you always."
She put down the baby carefully on the floor and then knocked.
She walked out of the canopy, spread her wings and rose towards the dark sky without a sound.
The door of the house opened up, revealing an elderly couple.
They were shocked to see a baby being dropped at their door late at night.
Seeing that the person who dropped the baby wasn't there no matter how many times they looked, they picked up the baby and took him in the house.
***
"Herstyl!"
A boy sleeping in a room with blankets made of fur woke up and stepped out of his bed.
"I'm coming, Grandma!" He said as he yawned and scratched his black hair.
He walked out of the room and walked outside the house, spotting his grandma standing while grinding ingredients inside a large wooden mortar with a large pestle.
She had short grey hair and green eyes that softened when she saw Herystyl.
"Good morning, Grandma." Herstyl greeted her.
"Morning, grandson. Can you please get your grandpa from the farm? He's taking too long, and it's almost lunch time." His grandma said as she cleaned the sweat from her forehead.
"Okay!" Herstyl said and stretched his body.
He walked towards her and gave her a hug. He always did and she always replied in kind.
Her warmth and her scent was something he cherished the most in his life.
"Be careful, you might break your poor old grandma." She protested.
He let go and grabbed his sandals and ran through the village with a speed too fast for teenagers, greeting everyone he met along the way.
Herstyl lived with his grandparents in a village called Losse. It was a village with a small population where everyone knew each other.
His family was well known because his grandparents always helped others with the little they had.
The farm where his grandfather worked wasn't too far so he reached in no time.
His grandfather was exactly where he always was.
Crouching at the far end of the plot, examining each row of vegetables with the gravity of a general surveying a battlefield.
He had long gray hair tied into a pony tail and his back was slightly curved.
"Good morning Gramps! Grandma told me to come and fetch you because you've been taking so long!"
The old man straightened up with one hand on his knee as he heard Herstyl's voice.
"Tsk, that old hag, doesn't she understand that this farm can't live without me, its best caretaker?!" He huffed in annoyance.
Herstyl rolled his eyes. "Yeah right, Gramps, you literally neglected the farm for two weeks because our neighbors outgrew you, and half of your tomatoes rotted."
"I was resting strategically."
"The tomatoes were not."
His grandfather pointed at him with a dirty finger. "You have a memory too good for a boy of your age."
Hairstyl grinned and took the basket from him. They walked home together, the old man grumbling, the boy listening. He always felt a pull in his chest when he watched his grandfather…at the slowness that had crept into him, the way he paused sometimes to catch a breath.
They worked so hard. They always had.
And they never complained.
Lunch was his favorite: rice, beans and roasted meat.
The kind of meal that didn't need to be fancy to taste good.
His grandmother had a way of cooking that had nothing to do with technique. He had eaten in other people's houses before but it was never the same. He did not know how to explain it except that when he ate her food, he felt safe.
During the meal, his grandpa couldn't help but gaze at the window where it showed a dark sky.
"Gamps."
The old man looked at him.
"It is just a storm. Eat your food before grandma hits you with the pestle.
His grandfather laughed despite himself and pinched his cheek. A habit from when Herstyl was small, and he never stopped.
They ate.
They talked about nothing important other than the neighbors, about whether the village chief's son would ever stop being a womanizer. His grandfather told the same story he always told about the wild beast he faced when he was young. His grandmother laughed as though she had never heard it before, while Herstyl listened with awe.
This was the version of them he would always remember.
He did not know that yet.
The bell rang.
Ding-dong! Ding-dong!
In Losse, the bell only rang for two things: a wedding or an emergency.
There was no wedding today.
A moment later screams started. Not the screams of frightened people, but the screams of people hurt.
The grandfather stood up from his seat. "You both stay here and I'll go check what's happening."
"But grandpa—"
A serious look from his grandpa stopped him from protesting.
His grandfather took out his rifle resting on the wall and stepped outside, closing the door behind him.
They waited.
The sounds got worse. Gunshots. Things breaking and growling sounds that did not belong in the village.
The door then opened, his grandfather came in with cuts on his body and blood stained his clothes.
The grandmother was the first to rush to him.
"Dear, your body! What vile thing did this to you?!" She said in a tone that had worries and anger. Then she pulled a cloth and wrapped around his wounds
Herystl went to him afterwards also worried. "A-are they bandits?"
"A horde of monsters.." He breathed. "They have circled the village and are killing anyone in sight."
The old man grabbed the old wooden cupboard and pushed it against the door.
Then he looked at his wife. "The boy,"
"I know."
They looked at each other, a conversation passed between them with just a look. Herystyl had seen them do this his whole life.
"No. I will stay. Just give me a rifle—"
His grandmother took his face in her hands.
They were rough from the mortar, rough from the garden, warm from the stove. She looked at him, the way she always did when she needed him to understand something.
He understood what she was not saying and nodded.
They put him in the closet in his room.
"Here," His grandfather handed him a revolver. "Use this to protect yourself if it is not one of us that comes through that door, understand?"
He received the revolver with trembling hands. "I understand grandpa."
"It is okay, don't be afraid…we are here with you and everything will be alright." His grandfather wrapped his arms around both of them and his grandpa rested her chin on top of his head.
"We love you." They said in unison.
It was the same way they said every night before going to bed.
"I love you too."
They both stood up and closed the closet.
Herystyl watched through a small hole in the closet as they closed his room's door.
He heard them moving the heavy furniture across the floor.
The breaking of glass and rifles being fired afterwards.
It didn't take long for something heavy to hit and shake the house.
The growling sound of a beast reached his ears.
His grandmother screamed once.
Then the rifles did not fire again.
He stood in the dark for a long time after the sounds stopped.
Not after something burst through his door, breaking it into splinters.
His eyes widened in horror as he saw the creature walking through the broken door.
It was the size of a wolf but bigger, the size of a tiger. Its fur was black and sharp spikes ran down its spine until its tail. Its teeth, sharp to tear metal, were stained with blood.
His grandparents' blood.
W-what happened to gramps and grandma? He thought as his heart beat so fast it hurt.
The creature looked around, its sharp claws scraping against the wooden floor.
Hairstyl, inside the closet, raised his revolver and pointed towards the monster with shaky hands.
The creature was just about to turn around...when it smelled something.
Its head snapped towards the closet at the end of the room.
"Growl…growl.." It growled dangerously and started walking towards it.
Oh no, oh no, oh no! It can smell me!
Hairstyl had no way to run, and even if he tried, the beast wouldn't let him.
The beast raised its paw and broke the doors of the closet.
"Die! Die! Die!" He screamed as he pulled the trigger multiple times.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The bullets hit the wolf, but its skin was so tough that it didn't hurt it.
The wolf lunged.
Hairstyle ran out of the closet and tried to make a run for it.
But the wolf was faster.
Its jaws closed around his right leg.
"Argh! My leg!"
Then it threw him against the wall.
He slumped against the wall—the revolver was no longer in his hand.
The wolf then lunged at him again, aiming for his neck.
He couldn't run. His leg was all messed up, and he felt like he had broken some bones.
But at that time something tore out of his chest.
He didn't feel pain.
He felt the opposite of pain.
A pressure that had lived behind his sternum his entire life, releasing all at once, the way a held breath is released, and a light tore out of him, deep red, and crossed the room in less than a blink.
The wolf's head simply stopped existing.
Blood splattered on the floor.
Thud!
Its body fell on the ground heavily.
Herstyl breathing was rough as he looked at the scene in front of him with his back pressed against the wall:
He was supposed to be dead but the wolf was dead instead.
He didn't understand.
Not until the flash of red light came towards his direction and stopped in front of him.
A sword with a black hilt and a dark red blade hummed as it floated in front of him.
Like a heartbeat.
"W-what?"