The village was quiet. Too quiet.
Kaen stood on the edge of the academy roof, staring at the forest. The air was heavy. Something felt… wrong. Even the Crimson Tree behind him didn't move, as if holding its breath.
Earlier that day, Mistress Vaela had dismissed class early.
"Go home," she said, her voice calm but sharp. "Stay inside tonight."
No one questioned her. Not even the arrogant ones.
Kaen hadn't gone home. He couldn't shake the feeling that something—or someone—was watching. It wasn't fear. It was instinct. That feeling in your bones when the world blinks just a little too long.
---
He moved through the streets, eyes sharp.
A shadow darted across the rooftops ahead.
Kaen followed.
He turned a corner.
Silence.
Only a single crimson feather lay on the ground.
He picked it up—and suddenly, the air twisted.
A scream.
Far. Faint. From the woods.
He ran.
---
Near the boundary wall, he found blood. A trail.
Then a figure—a boy, face down, body still, lying on a dead beast.
Kaen stepped closer.
The beast's eyes were still open, but lifeless. The boy… wore no village crest. His hand gripped something—tightly.
Kaen bent down.
A symbol carved into the boy's palm. A circle… crossed by jagged lines.
Suddenly, the air cracked—like glass breaking in the sky.
Kaen looked up.
Mist was crawling in from the trees.
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Message for Readers:
The silence before a storm is often louder than the storm itself. Things are moving now—forces that were waiting in the dark. Kaen's path is no longer safe. Keep reading, and trust no one. The blood remembers everything.
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