Chapter 1: Curfew

Curfew.

He was walking up the street towards the academy when the town’s good ol’ bell rang ever so dutifully. Commotion stirred in the streets as people bustled out of their houses almost immediately, walking wearily along the streets for their nightly curfew. Some took a few teary moments to kiss their loved ones goodbye, while others trudged ahead, not giving a damn whether this night would be their last.

It had a nice ring to it— Curfew. There’d be guards patrolling the streets with their magically amplified voices, warning residents to stay out of their houses. Night is coming; get to the field posthaste! There’d be beastly roars and cracking bones. The mix of green and blue blood would flow downhill, while the wind carried its acrid stench right up the hill again.

He stopped just outside the adventurers’ guild, admiring the dusty weapons displayed behind the glass. Nobody wanted to be an adventurer anymore. Not with their accursed condition. Not since—

“Ash bloody Waker, hurry your arse up!”

He didn’t need to turn around. If that unrhythmic clacking of footsteps wasn’t enough to tell him who it was, the shrill voice more than sufficed.

The small figure practically bumped into him, pushing him forward. Ash broke into a small jog back down the street.

“Alright, alright, I’m moving. Stop pushing me, Nyx.” Ash slowed down as the ten-acre field came into view. Apart from pretty much the entire town population gathered there, the plot of land was devoid of any life. In fact, it looked more like a very wide dirt road instead of a field.

He glanced at the rapidly setting sun as the people began to spread out by themselves. There used to be a nominated person from the clergy to organise the townsfolk, but everyone pretty much knew the routine by now.

“Hey, stick together and we’ll be fine, alright?” Nyx Dreamgone said, blowing her brown fringe from her face. She was still dressed in her dark red mage robes, while the rest of the town was already in their nightwear. Ash rolled his eyes; she must have rushed over straight from the academy as well. Hurry up, my arse.

Ash nodded stoically. She wouldn’t have a choice anyway; none of them did. He looked at the sky again. Darkness stared back at him now. It was time.

“See you tomorrow.” Nyx’s voice barely registered in his ears as the wind began howling, almost as if nature itself was reeling in horror at what was to come. Ash closed his eyes, feeling the familiar fuzz crawl up his spine.

And then the screaming started.

~ ~ ~

His ribs were the first to break.

Ash gritted his teeth, bearing the pain of his bones piercing out his skin. They bent even further under the power of the vile, transformation magic and reshaped themselves. The man released a groan, feeling muscle grow over what was once his ribs in a mere few seconds. Ash fell to his knees, using his two arms to support himself against the strain.

Another pair jabbed the ground as well. He let out a primal growl as his four arms trodded the ground testily like a horse.

Energy flooded Ash’s body as he stood upright, now more than two metres tall. His legs— No, hind legs now— bent backwards and pushed him off the ground. The night breeze soothed his rippling muscles as he soared more than ten metres in the air, before landing with a loud crash.

Ash’s head was the last to transform, but it was the least painful. The last of his humanity retreated from his eyes as his head expanded horizontally, making way for a wider jaw that looked more like the maw of a Venus flytrap. Sharp teeth jutted from his gums as he let out a paralysing roar, finally completing the transformation.

The monster prowled the area, waiting for the last of his town residents to finish transforming as well. Ash watched the writhing monsters from behind his red, beastly eyes.

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Blightwalkers.

Demons that walk the Earth by night. Monsters shaped and borne of diseased land. Humanity forever blighted by a curse.

For thirty years, the land of Bonehollow had been cursed by a powerful mage— No, the most powerful of mages, Vekt Xa’lath, after his failed quest to rid the land of great evil.

Although prophesied by an ancient god to be the chosen one, the mere man was apparently still not powerful enough to fight back against this ‘great evil’. Disgraced by defeat, the ‘chosen one’ was forced to retreat and return to his town.

Or at least that was what everyone wished had happened back then.

Instead of simply admitting defeat, Vekt lashed out in a fit of rage. Or madness. Or whatever possessed him to bestow his pain onto innocent civilians.

A curse, sustained by his own life force, was placed on the unwilling land of Bonehollow, turning every healthy person into these accursed demons by night.

For better or for worse, the sick and the old did not have the constitution to support their transformation. As such, they were forced to watch their loved ones transform right in front of their eyes while cowering in fear, unable to do anything about it. The only blessing they could count was that the Blightwalkers turned back into humans when the sun rose again.

But not all of them would.

Ash Waker snarled instinctively, whipping his deformed head to the ‘great evil’ that the civilians had to fight off themselves now. His tar-coloured body trembled with aggression, preparing to pounce on the shadows emerging from a nearby forest.

Their tongues were the first thing that caught his attention. Dragging that overly-long organ along the floor, the three-metre tall monsters showed their skeletal, ashen nude bodies quickly.

Ash turned away. Unlike his brethren, he was the only one who retained his full consciousness after transformation. And that meant he had a choice to avoid conflict instead of being a slave to the Blightwalker instinct to attack their natural enemy, the Godfeasters.

He never found out why he was still awake in his Blightwalker form, nor did he care. All that mattered was that he passed tonight safely, like every other night.

Chaos erupted around him. Ash leapt off into the distance while his fellow Blightwalkers kept the Godfeasters busy for yet another night. He turned back one last time, before offering a pointless prayer that Nyx would at least return from this battle alive.

He didn’t count on it; the gods have abandoned them anyway.

~ ~ ~

The lone Blightwalker landed in the thick of the woods with a loud crash, sending all the animals scuttling away. He slowed down to a trotting pace and sat himself down at the edge of the forest.

Ash cast his gaze into the far horizon, where the land seemed to curve downwards. Although his eyesight was far more powerful in this form, he could never see past the magicked barrier surrounding Bonehollow.

He wondered what lay on the other end. Were things different? Did men and nature live in harmony out there? Were men even capable of understanding coexistence?

His mind flitted back to his childhood. It wasn’t so long ago when he was received by the town mayor as a long-lost child. Abandoned by his parents— in this very same forest, in fact— Ash was presumed dead by the town. His parents, which he later heard, were killed by Godfeasters because they were one of the few who were too sick to transform.

However, as if by a miracle, a Godfeaster chanced upon the crying toddler. And by an even bigger miracle, it did not seek to kill him. Instead, it took the young boy in and raised him as one of its own after nursing him back to health.

Zlata was her name, which was something that Ash later came to learn of, and she kept him a secret from the rest of her kind. Despite being a mere human, Ash had somehow gained the ability to sense Zlata’s emotions, making her the only Godfeaster he could communicate with.

Not that it mattered though. Godfeasters and humans have, and always will be, at war. And so Ash kept his mouth shut about his surrogate mother when he was eventually returned to his town as well.

Bushes rustled behind the Blightwalker, bringing his attention back to the present.

Ash stood up immediately and crawled towards the source of the sound. His sense of hearing was enhanced as well, but whatever made that sound was obviously not trying to be discreet.

His eyes darted to the flash of ashen grey hiding poorly behind a tree. The Blightwalker bared his teeth; it seemed like he couldn’t avoid a fight tonight after all. Ash charged forward at a blinding speed, raising his sharpened arms to attack—

And froze in recognition.

The Blightwalker trodded the ground in confusion at first, before guttural whines began escaping from its throat.

No, no, no… this can’t be…

The whining became louder as it fell to its knees, licking at the Godfeaster’s wounds in an attempt to heal it. But they were clearly inflicted by another Godfeaster’s tongue, and already too deep to patch up.

No, Zlata… Mum, please… It’s me. I’m here. Don’t go, please…

Ash looked into Zlata’s glassy eyes for the last time as her breathing slowed down. Pearly tears dripped onto the floor as he trembled uncontrollably.

Who did this?! WHO DID THIS?!

And as the Blightwalker threw his head back in agony, a haunting howl filled the forest for a long time.