Titus tossed about in his sleep, restlessly twisting up inside a thin blanket on the floor of his parents’ old room. The sun was currently peeking up over the horizon, shyly lighting up the little town with its morning rays. Some of that light made it through a window that had been boarded up the day before, splashing warmly onto Titus’ face. A rooster call echoed from one of the neighboring farms, pushing Titus awake and loosening the nightmare’s grasp on him.

He bolted upright, panting heavily and with sweat glistening brightly on his brow. His eyes were wide open and flitted about the room in a panic. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was, what had happened.

“Right, I’m an adult now. This is my house.” Muttered Titus to himself, by way of reassurance. He remembered now, something that happened that night seven years ago.

Not that he wanted to remember—it had been pushed on him while sleeping, forcing him to relive his insane flight into the bowels of the earth and what waited for him down there. He recalled that voice, worn and cracked in the dark, and the rattle of chains as someone desperately called for his return.

Titus knelt on the ground, staring at the old floorboards of his parents’ house. He sat like that, not wanting to remember his dreams but going over them carefully anyway. There was something important about what happened that night, and he had a feeling those events were still affecting his present life in a rather large way.

Put simply, he wanted answers, but was memories containing them terrified him somewhat. So, after thinking things over for a little while, he shoved everything into the back of his mind like usual, and got up. There was a wonderfully dirty house to clean, and this was fully capable of distracting him for a good long while.

The house itself was relatively simple, built by Titus’ grandfather and maintained by his father. It had four rooms total, and an outhouse that Titus really didn’t want to check, given how long it had been sitting in the open.

He had cleaned out the large bedroom yesterday, which left the small bedroom, the living space/central room, and the storage room to clean up. The small bedroom was in much the same state as his parents’ room, and would only need a brief dusting up. Maybe he would have to change out the bedding and sheets, though Titus supposed he could also just get rid of all that, and turn the room into a work place of some sorts. He wasn’t planning on needing another sleeping room for a while yet.

The living space was in worse repair, with numerous leaks in the roof and broken furniture littering the packed dirt floor. There was grass growing in certain places, and moss covering some walls. The entire room would need to be deeply cleaned, and the repair work would be extensive. Titus was happy about this, since it took his mind off those dreams—even though he normally hated doing heavy work.

So, he spent the morning gathering up all the broken bits of halfway-rotted wood, and carrying them out of the house. Unfortunately, it seemed that most the furniture fragments were still too soaked to use as firewood of any sort. Titus guessed that the storm which had rolled over their little town a few days ago had also freshly dampened the inside of his house. Thankfully, almost all the damage had been localized to the living room. The other rooms had been almost entirely untouched, though Titus didn’t look in the storage room long enough to ascertain it’s condition for certain. He assumed it was mostly fine, though. That room was built to last, and the whole house would have to fall before something happened to it.

He set the soaked wooded fragments outside, hoping that they would be dry within the week—if another storm didn’t come by, that is. By the time all the broken furniture was out of the house, he had a nice little stack of drying wood by the side of the house, set out in the sun to expedite the process.

Next, Titus set out with a borrowed axe in hand. Knowing that the house would likely need fresh wood for some repairs, he had asked to use the Barrow’s axe. They were a nice family who lived near the place where all Exodus orphans were being housed, and he’d interacted with them a good many times before, often doing all sorts of odd jobs for them. Titus called in a favor, and they gladly let him use their axe until he had his own.

Titus made his way to a grove of trees planted by the first villagers several centuries ago, and selected a nice looking tree. It was already quite old, and clearly just a single step away from dying naturally. He decided to help it on it’s way, and shouldered his axe while sizing the tree up.

Then, he carefully wound up for the first strike. The axe dug into the tree with a dull thump, it’s blade angled downwards. It took a good shake from Titus to dislodge it from the tree’s bark before winding up again for another strike, this time going up into the tree from waist level. Repeating these two motions over and over left Titus swimming in sweat, and his progress could be seen in the V shaped wedge of wood missing from the tree, cutting a little less than halfway through it’s trunk.

Not willing to give himself a break, Titus circled around to the other side of the tree, opposite of the chunk missing. He hefted the axe, and swung straight at the tree. He noticed the sudden strength infusing his limbs too late, however. The axe swung right through the tree, violently separating trunk from body. Great cracking noises echoed through the small grove as the tree found itself tipping over well before Titus had intended it to. Luckily, the tree at least fell in the planned direction, though he didn’t stick around to see that. Titus ran away from the falling tree as fast as he could, knowing that several townspeople had been crushed before in freak accidents.

That strange strength still coursed through his veins though, so he ran quite a bit faster than he intended and quickly lost control.

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“Fuuuuuuck!” Cried Titus as he crashed right into another tree, likely leaving a rather unflattering imprint of his face judging by the sheer force of the collision.

He shakily got up, looking back at the now felled tree behind him. Inhaling sharply while reaching up to touch his nose, Titus was surprised to find that his nose wasn’t broken after having been introduced to a tree at great speeds. It wasn’t even bleeding, though his face stung quite a bit in general. He shakily walked back over to the tree he had chopped down, and got back to work—this time without any unusual strength.

It took a good portion of the day for Titus to finish things up. In the end, he had a nicely sized stack of new roofing shingles, roughly hewn but good enough for the moment. He carted most of these shingles to the house, and got up onto the roof. The leaking sections were easily identified, and the shingles surrounding that area got torn out and replaced by new ones. Most of the afternoon was spent fixing the roof, and Titus had a leak-proof house at the end of the day to show for it.

Then, at the end of the day, he left, walking towards the healer’s cottage. It was a short walk, and had him passing by a good number of houses.

Now that the sun was setting, people were lighting up their tallow candles or simply going to bed. People in a rural farming village rose and set with the sun, as it dictated their sleeping habits and patterns for the most part. There were exceptions of course, like the community leaders or the healer and her young apprentice; as they could afford to stay up later and wake up after the sun had risen. Titus wanted to see the former, since they had a system with food set up. Last night had been the first time in a while that he hadn’t eaten with them—though, coming to think of it, Titus couldn’t remember eating anything at all last night. He normally loved his food, so this struck him as odd. He decided it was likely a result of the emotional turmoil from yesterday.

He had a hearty breakfast of hare right after waking up that morning, so any hunger from the day before had been quickly forgotten, and the absence of dinner must have slipped his mind.

However, Titus’ hunger felt like a rabid wolf clawing at the inside of his stomach as the sun dipped below the horizon, the day’s work catching up with him. He thanked the gods as a familiar house came into view, well lit with oil and wicker lanterns in the windows compared to the thick and smoky tallow candles of the ordinary farmer’s households. The healer’s lanterns smelled a damn sight better as well, convincing Titus that she must put herbs of some kind into the oil itself, which then diffused through the entire house and added to it’s comfortable scent.

He went right on up to the wooden door, and knocked briefly before pulling it open.

“Hello? Is there room for a poor, hungry boy at your table?” Called Titus as he came in.

“For certain!” Replied the healer with some amusement. “However, I don’t think there is room for a strapping young man. I’m afraid those types must eat on the floor.”

Titus found the healer and Maria sitting at a small table in the same side room where he had discovered the demonic bloodline running through his veins. Maria gave him a dismissive look, while the healer bade him to sit and eat, rescinding her teasing about eating on the floor.

“How goes the home repairs?” She asked.

“Pretty good.” Said Titus between bites of a rather succulent haunch of meat. “I got the roof done today, and the central room cleared out.”

“Is the rest of the house in pretty bad shape?”

“Central room was the worst of it. The roof was pretty badly damaged there, so a lot of water got in. Had to take everything out—it was all scrap wood, pretty much.”

“And the rest of the rooms are fine?”

“Mostly. There’s still dusting to do and bedding to change, but most everything’s still intact.”

“That’s good to hear. And your parent’s stuff?” Asked the healer, looking at Titus in an oddly intense way. He noticed, and answered somewhat hesitantly.

“Erm, I haven’t looked yet. I’ll probably end up tossing the useless stuff and keeping the rest.”

“Don’t throw your mother’s trinkets away. See if Maria here wants any first.” Said the old woman, knowing full well that those would be among the items classified as ‘useless.’ And, they contained too many memories for Titus to comfortably keep them. He would rather that his parents, the forest, all the monsters, and those caves never existed in the first place, and trinkets like his mother’s only served to break that wish apart.

“And, you still need proper bedding, yes?” Asked the healer. “I can give you an extra set I have.”

“Oh, no—you keep that. I’m fine sleeping on the floor.”

“I am not having you sleep in the dirt like some ruffian. Take the bedding, and rest properly.” She commanded.

Titus threw his arms up in bemused surrender.

“Fine, have it your way, granny. I’ll have to take your charity.”

The healer muttered something about age and impertinent brats under her breath.

Titus laughed, and finished up his dinner. The healer had Maria fetch the extra bedding from a storage room, and she handed the cloth bundle to Titus sullenly. He accepted them with grace, and thanked the two for their hospitality.

As he was walking out the door, Titus had another flash of improved hearing, and could clearly hear Maria complaining about him.

“Why do we have to put up with that gloomy guy, anyway? It’s not like he’s able to help around here. All he can do is farm.” She said.

“I think you’ll find that people are more than what they can do, my dear Maria.” Countered the healer. “Titus in particular is likely the most interesting person in this village.”

“I doubt that.” Huffed Maria. “He’s going to die in that little farm of his parents, like everyone else. At least I have the change of learning to heal, or to lead like my father and his fathers before him.”

“Did you know that most powerful beings in this world come from nothing?” Said the healer, with a profound note in her voice. “Sure, a good many of them come form established families, or backgrounds with certain advantages. But, the truly terrifying monsters whom walk this earth made themselves into what they are. The path to power can only be achieved by one’s own will.”

Titus couldn’t hear anything past that, as the improved hearing faded quickly. The healer’s act of defending him to Maria, even without him in the room, warmed his heart somewhat. It was nice to know you could rely on people.

It was easy to set up the bedding back at his house. Titus took off all the old sheets and put them into the now-clean central room, before changing out the straw mattress for something fresher. The new sheets went on top, and Titus collapsed in a heap onto the bed, exhausted from the day’s work. He hadn’t even tried tilling the soil yet, which had to be done in the next week before he missed the planting season. But that was a worry for another day, and Titus drifted into an initially dreamless sleep for the night.

At least, it was dreamless until a shadowy figure entered his house, and came to stand beside his bed. The dreams came quickly, as if the figure had summoned them, and they quickly turned to memories and nightmares under its watchful gaze.