Back in his cramped apartment, Ky'ren didn't give the alley much thought. He sat on the edge of his bed, the events of the day circling his mind like crows.
He had to choose.
Joining the scouts felt right. Morally, at least. But did he really have a reason? Elyon might already be dead for all he knew.
I'll think about it tomorrow.
He lay back and let sleep take him. On the wall, the hourglass tipped—sand flowing, a silent symbol of time and consequence.
The next morning, he stared at the hourglass. Another day.
He was supposed to sell cabbages, but his body betrayed him. Heavy. Reluctant.
He dragged himself up.
Tap. Tap.
In the kitchen, he bent to open the cupboard. The half-empty space stared back—so empty, a person could almost fit inside.
"My butter's nearly out," he muttered. "Same with everything else..."
He sighed and shut the lid. Back to the bed.
From beneath his pillow, he pulled his wallet and flipped through the worn notes.
"If I get butter... but I also need soap and toilet paper..."
He counted again. A slow, defeated sigh followed.
No way I can restock the cabbages.
He gave in and took a hot bath. The cold bite of the air was worse than yesterday.
Warm water helped. He dressed slowly—white shirt with black buttons, tucked into charcoal trousers, and his coated sweater.
Outside, the bioluminescent mushrooms flickered faintly, beautiful in the gloom. But the darkness always returned. Some animals and plants glowed—natural lures for prey. Most of the town was still cloaked in shadow. Crystals glowed faintly in the corners of buildings, but nothing could banish the night entirely.
Humans had adapted, slightly able to see almost clearly. Just enough.
The air beyond the apartment gates was stale, unmoving. The alley near the old shop caught his eye again—a long, black tunnel with no light at the end. A parable. A warning.
Something about it made his skin crawl.
After another empty day selling cabbages, Ky'ren headed home—when he heard a familiar voice.
The golden-haired man was arguing with a cloth vendor.
"For just six shirts?" he said, shocked. The woman didn't flinch.
"It's the market price," she replied, already wrapping the clothes like the sale was final.
The man sighed, pulled out ten tinder. "You adjusted the price, didn't you?"
She nodded and fumbled in the dim light for change. Finally, she handed over 520 lerry in After confirming the payment, the man left with his neatly wrapped shirts.
He was walking in Ky'ren's direction. Ky'ren tried to avoid being seen, but the man spotted him too quickly.
"Oh hey!" he said as he walked over, holding out his hand to shake.
I couldn't avoid him, Ky'ren thought as he returned the handshake.
"So, how was your day?"
"Boring," Ky'ren said, eyeing the shirts.
The man chuckled. "We're going to be real scouts soon—figured I'd upgrade the wardrobe."
So he's already decided, Ky'ren thought.
"I haven't made my decision yet," he admitted aloud.
"Ah, I made mine yesterday."
A silence settled.
"Well... see you—if I join," Ky'ren said, starting to turn.
"Wait—my roommate's on a mission, and I've got extra food. Come eat. Don't want it going to waste."
At the word food, Ky'ren's stomach took full control. He spun around.
"Now why didn't you lead with that?"
They walked toward the next district. There were two residential areas: Shepherd's District and Joseph's District, governed by Lodric Kendall IV the town's ruler .
Ky'ren and Elyon lived in the quieter one—filled mostly with absent scouts or veterans long out of duty. He rarely saw neighbors.
They were assigned there only because the main district was full. Ky'ren didn't mind.
He liked the quiet.
The district was much busier than what Ky'ren experienced . It was already close to midnight and people made their way in and out .
Some drunk.
Some holding hands .
The golden-haired man—Caelum—led Ky'ren through the noisy streets as they curved through the rowdy estate.
His apartment was similar to Ky'ren's in size and bunks . Although they didn't have steam baths . During the meal they had some small talks .
"How long do you train?"
"Any skills?"
"Favourite food?"
Short question that required short answers . None of them asked personal questions . Ky'ren didn't because he knew his boundaries and didn't plan on elongating the conversion . After the dinner Ky'ren spent some time at Caelum's but left after midnight cause the sky started to drizzle and he wasn't planning to stay all night .
He arrived at his place unlocking the wooden door and shut it. The distance from Joseph's and Shepherd's district was just a 30 minutes' walk, so Ky'ren didn't consider using a carriage . He considered it a waste of money . Unless he wants to travel out of Ashen Ford then he could use it or he became a full-time scout . Ky'ren got in and took off his sweater and shirt . Then sat on his down bunk shirtless . He reached under his pillow and picked out his wooden book . Flipping it open, he wrote—
"Another day and no news on Elyon…"
Ky'ren scribbled the words into his journal, lying on the bunk bed.
Only five days remained before he'd have to choose his place in the military. Another weight to bear—just like his bills.
The cold air seeped through the cracked window, carrying the damp scent of mushroom spores and old rain.
Orange crystals buzzed quietly, glowing dimly in their sconces. The light was soft. Calming.
But Ky'ren couldn't sleep.
Maybe it was the strange food he ate at the yellow-haired lad's place... or maybe it was just the thoughts clawing at the back of his skull.
Either way, he wrote.
Humans had adapted to the darkness over time. Ky'ren wasn't someone who usually stayed up late, though in this world—every hour felt like night.
Time was strange.
Clocks and watches existed, sure. But those were luxuries for the military and the nobles of the higher Islands.
Commoners like Ky'ren? Hourglasses were all they had.
Krrkh!
A sharp sound scraped through the silence.
Ky'ren froze.
He stared at the door. Listening.
Then again—
Krrkh!
Louder this time, even through the steady downpour.
The curtains flailed violently in the wind, the room filling with that raw, wet scent.
A chill crept down his spine.
Slowly, Ky'ren stood, eyes fixed on the door... and the open window.
And then—something wrapped around his legs.
Cold. Writhing.
He panicked.
He kicked and thrashed, slamming a book down onto the mass with all his strength.
Pinning it.
Readying for a second blow—
Only to realize…
It was a white cloth.
He blinked in disbelief as the cloth danced on the floor, pushed by the wind.
His breath returned.
Then a laugh—nervous and awkward.
"And here I was… thinking it was some kind of monster," he muttered.
He stepped to the window, annoyed, intending to close it before the rain soaked everything.
Then he glanced back.
The cloth.
His heart stopped.
"But… I don't own anything white."
He turned.
And the rain was… silent.
No water touched him.
Because something blocked it.
A figure.
Tall. Dressed in black.
A white mask grinning from the window frame.
Thunder cracked behind it.
"Shit!"
Ky'ren stumbled backward—
Stab!
Agony tore through his stomach.
Blood spilled down his shirt.
The masked man had already leapt inside, blade red.
Ky'ren collapsed, clutching his side.
The man stepped forward, slow. Unhurried.
Ky'ren crawled back toward the bunk bed.
"W-who are you!?" he shouted, voice raw.
The figure gave no answer.
Only the sound of footsteps. Knife in hand.
Ky'ren reached under the bed.
Grabbed the book from earlier—
Hurled it.
The mask cracked as it hit, snapping off.
The killer covered his face quickly and bent down to retrieve the mask.
That was Ky'ren's chance.
He ran.
In the kitchen, he slammed the door shut behind him.
Locked it.
Grabbed a kitchen knife from the chopping board, hands slick with his own blood.
He stared at the door.
Then… he opened it.
Let him come.
Ky'ren ducked under a cupboard, clutching the knife tightly, breathing hard.
The door creaked open.
Footsteps. Slow. Calculating.
They walked past.
Then stopped.
A pause.
The blood trail.
Ky'ren had left one.
The killer turned back.
Ripped the cupboard door open—
Ky'ren reacted instantly.
He threw the knife.
The killer dodged—but it grazed his neck.
Ky'ren lunged.
They crashed into each other. Struggling across the floor.
The killer was stronger. Ky'ren couldn't win head-on.
But the counter—
There!
He reached for the wooden chopping board—
Kpam!
He slammed it into the man's head.
The mask cracked further.
Ky'ren snatched the knife from the ground and—
Stabbed.
The blade sank into the attacker's shoulder.
He hissed. Jumped back.
Then ran.
Ky'ren gave chase, but he couldn't keep up. Blood loss dulled everything.
The man vanished into the storm.
He staggered outside.
The rain hit him like needles. The world spun.
Carriages rolled past.
People blurred.
He raised a hand, bloody and trembling—
And the world turned black.
Scene Cut – Lower Layer
The air reeked of rust and decay. A single breeze slipped through broken dome glass above, barely pushing back the rot of this trench-like layer.
Moonlight fought to reach the ground. Crystals provided only puddles of light.
Abandoned homes sat silent, but not empty.
Something new lived here.
Something wrong.
Screams echoed—inhuman and directionless, coming from everywhere and nowhere.
Inside one house, a man sat trembling in the dark. Elyon.
Sweat soaked his skin despite the cold. Shattered crystal shards lay scattered—he had broken them to extinguish their light.
The ground shook. Outside, things moved. He dared not look.
Knock. Knock.
"Open up! I'm a survivor!" a woman cried from beyond the door.
Too human. Too perfect.
Elyon didn't move. He clung to himself, rocking.
"God is good…" he whispered.
He fought the guilt. Fought the instinct to open the door. Hands shaking, he reached into his coat and pulled out a golden cross.
The screams continued. The earth trembled.
He pressed the cross to his forehead and prayed in a broken whisper:
"Fa...ther, protect me from all evil…
Gui...de my path…"