Ajal floated in darkness.

The silence was thick, pressing against him from all sides. It felt more like a presence than an absence—a stillness that seemed to breathe, waiting for him to do… something. His body felt heavy, unresponsive, as if he were caught in a deep current of sleep, unable to wake.

Then he saw it. A figure, half-formed in the shadows, its shape shifting like smoke. A hood concealed its face, but he could feel its gaze—a steady, weighty focus that settled on him, as though measuring him.

Ajal felt a chill creep through him, but he couldn’t look away.

The figure tilted its head, almost curiously, before it slowly lifted its face just enough for Ajal to see the faintest glint of teeth. It was smiling—a thin, knowing smile, the kind you might give to someone you’ve known all their life.

The figure didn’t move, but somehow, Ajal felt it closer, that smile pressing into his mind like a brand. His chest tightened, and he tried to back away, to break free of whatever spell held him there.

But the smile only grew wider.

Ajal jolted awake, gasping. His fingers clutched his sheets as he blinked, his heart pounding. Morning light streamed in through the small window, casting pale golden rays across his room, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of that smile, lingering in the corners of his mind.

He pushed a hand through his hair, only to pause as he caught sight of himself in the small mirror on his nightstand. His skin looked… different. A touch paler than he remembered, and under his eyes were shadows, dark smudges as if he hadn’t slept in days. But what stood out most was his hair—the tips of it, which had always been a solid, inky black, now faded to a ghostly white.

“Ajal!” His sister’s voice shattered the quiet, and a second later, the door swung open.

Katria, already dressed in her hunting clothes, grinned as she bounded across the room and threw herself onto his bed, nearly knocking him over. “Good morning, birthday boy! What are you doing still in bed?”

He pulled his gaze from the mirror and forced a smirk. “Reflecting on how I’ve managed to survive eighteen years of having you as a sister.”

She rolled her eyes and shoved him playfully, though he could see the glimmer of genuine warmth in her expression. “Oh, please. If anything, I’m the reason you’ve made it this far. You’re the one who’s always falling asleep under trees or wandering off whenever you’re supposed to be helping on the farm.”

“It’s called taking creative breaks,” he replied, stretching as he got out of bed. “Helps build character.”

Katria raised an eyebrow, smirking as she poked at his hair. “Maybe it’s the lack of character that made your hair turn white.”

Ajal chuckled, grabbing a pillow and lightly whacking her with it. “And maybe you should stop staring; people will think you like me.”

Katria wrinkled her nose in mock horror. “As if!” She tossed the pillow back at him and hopped off the bed. “Come on, everyone’s waiting. Don’t think you’re special just because it’s your birthday.”

He followed her downstairs, still feeling a strange weight in his chest as the memory of the dream lingered. Who was that figure? And why did it feel like it was watching him even now?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The smell of sizzling eggs and fresh bread greeted them as they entered the kitchen. Their mother, Nora, stood at the stove, her brow slightly furrowed as she focused on turning the eggs just right. She was a small woman, her hair threaded with gray and often tied back in a loose bun, but her eyes had a warmth that matched her husband’s. She could be strict, but Ajal had never doubted her love.

“Oh, there he is!” she said, her voice bright as she glanced over her shoulder. “The birthday boy finally graces us with his presence. Eighteen years of Ajal—it’s a miracle we’ve all survived this long.”

“Barely,” teased Eren from the head of the table, raising his cup in a mock toast. “Here’s to you, son—may you one day do something useful around here.”

Ajal grinned and took his seat beside Katria. “Come on, Dad, you know I keep things interesting.”

Eren laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll give you that much. But don’t get too comfortable. Just because it’s your birthday doesn’t mean you get out of work today.”

“You know, Dad, most people give their kids presents on their birthday,” Ajal replied with a playful smirk.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll let you off this once,” Eren said, waving a hand. “Consider it my gift to you. But only if you and Katria bring back something decent from the hunt. You know how picky your mother is with her stew.”

Nora swatted at him with her spatula, laughing. “I’m picky? I’m just trying to make sure you don’t put raw meat in the pot like last time!”

Katria burst out laughing. “That was Dad? I thought we had a new family tradition of ‘nearly poisoning everyone’!”

As laughter rippled around the table, Ajal glanced over at his older brother, Theo, who was grinning into his mug of tea. Theo was only a couple of years older, but he had the easygoing confidence of someone who was comfortable in his own skin. He was the kind of person who could charm anyone with a few words, though he never seemed to take himself too seriously.

“Ajal, how does it feel to finally be an adult?” Theo asked, giving him a lopsided grin. “Gonna start taking life seriously now?”

Ajal shrugged, his tone deliberately casual. “Eh, maybe tomorrow. Today’s still got potential for reckless fun.”

Theo chuckled and raised his mug in a toast. “Here’s to a few more years of you pretending to be reckless, then.”

They clinked mugs, and Ajal tried to shake off the eerie feeling that had clung to him since waking. The playful back-and-forth with his family was grounding, making everything feel normal. But in the back of his mind, he couldn’t shake the image of that hooded figure’s smile.

“Ajal,” his mother said, setting a plate of eggs and bread in front of him, “you and Katria need to stay close to the main paths today. The village’s barrier… it’s been weakening lately.” Her voice softened. “Just be careful out there.”

“Relax, Mom,” Katria said, grinning as she took a bite of her bread. “I’ve got my arrows, and Ajal has… well, his sense of humor. We’re untouchable.”

“Oh, then we’re all doomed,” Eren added with a grin, and they all laughed again, the tension broken. But Ajal caught the slight furrow in his father’s brow, a fleeting look of worry that disappeared as quickly as it had come.

As they left the house, Ajal glanced around, taking in the familiar sights of Crater Village. Rows of sturdy wooden houses lined the main road, each one painted with faded symbols that represented the family’s lineage and Gifts. The paths were swept clean, and villagers bustled about, carrying baskets of vegetables, bundles of firewood, and jugs of water from the well. In the distance, the massive crater loomed like a silent guardian, casting a deep shadow over the eastern edge of the village.

Crater Village had always felt isolated from the world beyond, its people bound together by tradition and necessity. The village’s barrier kept most threats at bay, but every family still carried a fierce sense of duty to protect their own. Here, everyone knew their place in the order of things. The elders guided, the strong defended, and the young trained, all working together to keep Crater Village safe—and thriving—in a world that was often hostile.

Ajal and Katria greeted people as they passed, each villager offering a slight nod or raising a hand in acknowledgment. On birthdays, it was customary for villagers to offer blessings or words of encouragement, and today was no exception.

“Eighteen, eh, Ajal?” called old Saro, the village’s butcher, as he stacked wooden crates outside his shop. He grinned, revealing teeth worn down from years of chewing tough meat. “That’s the age of responsibility. Ready to make something of yourself?”

Ajal chuckled, waving him off. “As ready as I’ll ever be, Saro. But let’s not rush into things, yeah?”

Saro just laughed, shaking his head. “Just don’t end up working with me, kid, or you’ll be slicing boar from dawn till dusk.”

Katria snorted, elbowing Ajal. “Honestly, that might be good for you. Builds character.”

“Don’t you start with the character-building talk,” Ajal muttered, pretending to scowl. “One family lecture a day is enough.”

As they continued, Ajal caught sight of a group of children playing in the dust near the path, tracing lines with sticks to mark out the boundaries of some imaginary game. When they spotted Ajal, they looked up, wide-eyed, as if they were seeing something legendary.

One of the braver boys, not much younger than Katria, stepped forward and gave a clumsy but sincere bow—a gesture unique to Crater Village, a tradition that every child learned from an early age. The bow involved crossing one arm over the chest while extending the other to the side, fingers splayed, palm facing upward. It was said to symbolize both protection and openness, a promise to shield one’s people while reaching out to the unknown.

“Happy birthday, Ajal!” the boy said, beaming with all the earnestness of youth. “When you get your Gift, you’re gonna be strong enough to protect us all, right?”

Katria leaned over, her voice mock-whispering to the boy. “He’ll need all the help he can get. Maybe if you all chip in, you can carry him back when he inevitably falls asleep.”

The children giggled, and Ajal rolled his eyes, fighting back a smile. “Thanks, really. Nice to know my reputation’s in good hands.”

They continued through the village, Ajal returning each greeting and bow, until they reached the largest house, set slightly apart from the others. The walls were painted in deep, rich colors that had been carefully preserved over the years, and intricate carvings adorned the doorposts. This was the home of Chief Harika, the leader of Crater Village—a role that demanded respect, though Harika herself often undercut that with her sharp wit.

As if on cue, Chief Harika emerged from her house, her gaze immediately finding Ajal. She was a tall, broad-shouldered woman with a braid of thick gray hair that reached nearly to her waist. Her expression was equal parts pride and mischief as she approached, hands on her hips.

“Ah, Ajal,” she called, her voice carrying easily across the clearing. “Eighteen years old today, are you? A fine age for finding direction in life… and perhaps a wife?”

Ajal grinned, trying to mask his discomfort with humor. “Only if you’re volunteering to train me in the art of survival, Chief. I’m pretty sure I’d need it.”

Harika laughed, giving him a hearty clap on the shoulder that nearly knocked him off balance. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage. But what about my daughter, Tessa? Surely you remember her?”

Katria snorted, stifling a laugh behind her hand as Ajal blinked, completely caught off guard. Tessa… He tried to place a face to the name, but only a vague memory of her came to mind—a girl a little older than him with a quiet demeanor, more interested in books than in village gatherings.

“Uh… oh, right, Tessa!” Ajal stammered, scrambling for words. “She’s, um… very… respectable. The kind of girl who would… er, probably think I’m not… tall enough.”

Katria let out a poorly concealed snort, and Harika raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Not tall enough?” Harika echoed, crossing her arms. “You mean to tell me that the height of a woman is all you think about?”

Ajal’s face turned red, and he stammered, “No, I mean—uh, just that I’d probably make terrible company for someone so, you know… reserved.” He could see Katria fighting to contain her laughter beside him, and he knew he’d put his foot in his mouth.

Harika shook her head, chuckling. “Well, don’t worry, Ajal. My Tessa is a patient girl, and I doubt she’s noticed your… lack of height obsession.” She winked, her eyes twinkling. “But maybe you should work on your compliments. If you’re planning to court anyone in this village, it’s best not to start by accidentally insulting their daughters.”

Ajal glanced at Katria, who was practically trembling with suppressed laughter, and shot her a look that said you’re not helping.

“I’ll, uh, work on that, Chief,” he said, trying to recover. He brought his arm across his chest, extending the other out in the traditional bow. “Thank you for… the advice. And the blessing.”

Harika returned the bow, her expression warm but still laced with that faint, playful smile. “Keep that spirit, Ajal. The village needs young blood with heart and humor. May today bring you a Gift that’s worthy of the name.”

As they left the chief’s house and made their way to the forest, Katria finally let her laughter spill out, clutching her sides. “Did you really just call Tessa too reserved? That’s going to be the talk of the village for weeks!”

Ajal groaned, running a hand over his face. “It’s not my fault! I just… I blanked, okay?”

“Sure, blame the memory lapse,” she said, grinning. “But I bet you’d remember real quick if she was actually standing right there.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help a smile as they continued down the path leading out of the village. The trees loomed ahead, casting cool shadows over the ground, and the familiar sounds of the forest—birdsong, the rustling of leaves—filled the air. Despite the teasing, Ajal felt a strange sense of calm wash over him. The forest had always been a place of peace, a place where he could forget about the future for a little while.

But as he caught sight of the village’s protective barrier shimmering faintly along the tree line, his father’s words echoed in his mind. The barrier hasn’t been as strong lately.

The forest swallowed them in its cool, green depths as Ajal and Katria slipped away from the village, moving along a well-worn path. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the ground in shifting patterns, and the familiar sounds of rustling undergrowth and distant birdsong filled the air. Here, with nothing but trees and shadows for company, Ajal could finally breathe.

Katria was a few paces ahead, her bow slung over her shoulder, her footsteps light and quick. She’d always been the more focused of the two of them when it came to the hunt, her gaze sharp as she scanned the underbrush for any sign of movement. Ajal watched her for a moment, admiring her quiet determination, before letting his gaze wander to the forest around them.

The forest was sacred to the people of Crater Village, a place where life and death coexisted in delicate balance. The villagers hunted here out of necessity, but always with respect for the creatures that called this place home. Ajal had learned from an early age to see each hunt as an exchange, a gift that required humility. It was part of what grounded him, kept him connected to the world beyond his own worries.

“See anything?” he whispered to Katria as they paused by a cluster of low shrubs, their leaves dotted with tiny red berries.

She shook her head, crouching low to the ground as she examined a faint set of hoofprints in the soil. “Deer tracks,” she murmured. “They’re fresh. If we’re quiet, we might catch it before it moves too far.”

Ajal nodded, gripping his bow a little tighter as he followed her deeper into the woods. The morning light was softer here, casting long shadows that stretched across the forest floor. He felt a strange sense of anticipation building in his chest, a quiet excitement that hummed through his veins. Hunting with Katria had always been one of his favorite things to do, one of the few times he could let his guard down without worrying about the future or the expectations of his family.

As they moved, Ajal’s mind drifted back to the strange dream he’d had that morning—the hooded figure, that eerie, knowing smile. It had left a chill in him that even the warmth of the sun couldn’t quite dispel, as though a shadow still clung to him, lurking at the edges of his thoughts. He couldn’t shake the feeling that it was a warning, though of what, he couldn’t say.

But he pushed the thought aside as Katria raised a hand, signaling for him to stop. Just ahead, in a small clearing dappled with light, a young stag grazed, its head lowered as it pulled tender leaves from a bush. Its fur was a rich, warm brown, and its antlers gleamed in the sunlight, delicate yet strong.

Ajal felt a pang of awe as he watched the creature, marveling at the quiet beauty of it. He took a slow, steady breath, his fingers tightening around his bowstring. This was the part of the hunt he never rushed, the moment when he connected with the life in front of him and acknowledged what he was about to take.

He raised his bow, feeling the weight of it settle in his hand, his mind going quiet.

Then, in a single fluid motion, he released the arrow.

It struck true, and the stag stumbled, collapsing onto the soft earth. Ajal and Katria moved forward, each step careful, almost reverent. When they reached the animal, Ajal knelt beside it, placing a hand on its warm flank. He closed his eyes, murmuring a few words of thanks under his breath, feeling a solemn gratitude that steadied him.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice low. “For what you’ve given us.”

Katria knelt beside him, her expression serious as she placed a hand on his shoulder. She understood his need for this moment, this quiet acknowledgment. The two of them stayed there for a few breaths longer, the forest holding its peace around them, as though it, too, respected the exchange.

But the peace didn’t last.

A sharp, unnatural cry split the air, sending a shock of fear down Ajal’s spine. It was a sound unlike anything he’d ever heard—half animal, half something far more twisted. The forest seemed to hold its breath, every bird and insect falling silent as the echo of the cry faded.

Ajal looked at Katria, his heart pounding. “What was that?”

She shook her head, her face pale. “Nothing good. Let’s get back to the village.”

They hefted the stag between them, moving as quickly as they could manage, but Ajal could feel a prickling unease crawling up his neck, as though they were being watched. The trees seemed darker now, their shadows stretching wider, and every crack of a twig or rustle of leaves felt like a warning.

They were nearly back to the village when they heard it—a rhythmic, heavy flapping sound, like massive wings beating the air. Ajal turned, his breath catching as he caught sight of something moving through the trees.

It was massive, a creature that looked like it had crawled out of a nightmare. It had the shape of a bat, but it was nearly as large as a bear, its white, sickly skin stretched tight over bulging muscles. Its midsection was translucent, a gelatinous blue that pulsed faintly, revealing a tangled mess of organs and bones within. Its eyes, small and red, glinted with an intelligence that made Ajal’s skin crawl.

A Salarkista.

Ajal’s heart raced, the stories he’d heard of these creatures flashing through his mind. The Salarkista were monsters born of demon magic, twisted and relentless hunters that fed on human life. They were rarely seen this close to the village, and for good reason—the barrier was supposed to keep them out.

“Katria,” he hissed, his voice tight with fear. “Run.”

But the creature had already spotted them. It let out another piercing cry, baring long, needle-like fangs as it lunged toward them. Katria was already sprinting, the stag forgotten on the ground as Ajal scrambled to follow.

They ran, weaving between trees, their footsteps thundering over fallen leaves and roots. Ajal’s heart hammered in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to think of anything that could stop a creature like that. But the Salarkista was gaining on them, each beat of its wings bringing it closer, its blood-red eyes locked on them with a chilling focus.

They were almost at the edge of the forest when he heard a strangled yelp. He turned just in time to see Katria stumble, her ankle caught in a twisted root. She struggled, pulling at her leg, but the Salarkista was already upon her, its shadow looming over her like a dark, terrible omen.

Without thinking, Ajal skidded to a halt, his fear replaced by a surge of desperate protectiveness. He raised his bow, drawing another arrow, though he knew it was almost pointless. A single arrow couldn’t stop something like this, but he had to try—he had to buy Katria time to get free.

He took aim, hands steady even as his heart raced, and loosed the arrow.

The creature flinched as the arrow struck its wing, tearing through the translucent membrane. It screeched in rage, its attention momentarily diverted. Katria managed to pull her ankle free, scrambling to her feet and running back toward the village, but the Salarkista’s gaze was already back on Ajal, its fury now fully directed at him.

Ajal swallowed, backing away slowly as the creature advanced, his mind racing for any possible escape. But it was too fast, too relentless.

Ajal sprinted toward the village, every muscle in his body burning, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Behind him, he could hear the Salarkista’s heavy wingbeats, each one closer than the last. He was so close to the edge of the forest—if he could just reach it, he might have a chance.

But before he could clear the tree line, something sharp and cold coiled around his ankle. A split second later, he was yanked backward, his body slamming into the ground as the breath was knocked from his lungs. The world spun as he was dragged back into the forest, the underbrush tearing at his clothes and skin, the sunlight of the village disappearing from view.

Ajal twisted, reaching down to claw at the thing wrapped around his leg—a slick, pale tendril, pulsing faintly with a sickly blue glow. It was an extension of the Salarkista’s translucent midsection, an appendage it had lashed out with like a whip to reel him back in.

“Let… go!” he snarled, kicking hard against the tendril, but it only tightened, pulling him closer to the creature’s gaping, needle-toothed maw. Its breath washed over him, hot and foul, smelling of decay. The Salarkista’s crimson eyes gleamed with a hungry, savage intelligence, as though it relished his struggle.

Ajal didn’t waste any more time fighting the tendril. He let his instincts take over, his mind going quiet as he focused on one thing—surviving. He reached down, his fingers brushing against a fallen branch. In one swift motion, he grabbed it, twisting his body to bring the branch down onto the tendril with all his strength.

The wood splintered against the creature’s gelatinous flesh, but it flinched, loosening its grip just enough for him to wrench his leg free. Without hesitating, he scrambled to his feet, sprinting toward the nearest tree, his heart hammering in his chest. He could feel the Salarkista’s rage behind him, a low growl rumbling from deep within its grotesque form.

Instead of running in a straight line, Ajal zigzagged between the trees, forcing the creature to adjust its course. His movements were fluid, almost instinctual, each step calculated to give him the slightest edge in speed. He leaped over fallen logs and ducked beneath low-hanging branches, his focus narrowing until the world around him became a blur.

But the Salarkista was relentless, its wings beating the air with increasing fury. He could hear it crashing through the underbrush, tearing through obstacles in its path as though they were nothing. Every instinct in him screamed to keep moving, to push himself harder, faster, despite the ache in his legs and the burn in his lungs.

He felt the creature’s tendril lash out again, grazing his side as he ducked behind a tree. His mind raced, searching for a way to turn the terrain to his advantage. The forest was dense, the trees close together, with thick roots snaking across the ground—a perfect environment to slow the Salarkista down if he could maneuver right.

He saw his chance and took it, veering sharply to the left and skidding down a small slope covered in loose soil and leaves. He let himself fall into a controlled slide, using the momentum to keep his speed, and heard the Salarkista shriek in frustration as it struggled to follow. The creature’s massive frame wasn’t built for quick turns, and it faltered, its wing clipping a tree and tearing through the bark with a splintering crack.

Ajal grinned, adrenaline sharpening his focus. “Come on,” he muttered under his breath. “Just try and keep up.”

But his confidence was short-lived. With a furious snarl, the Salarkista tore through the brush, its tendril whipping forward again. Ajal dodged, but the creature anticipated his movement, and another tendril lashed out, catching him across the back. Pain shot through him as he staggered forward, barely keeping his footing.

He could feel the creature closing in, its hot breath on the back of his neck. Desperation surged through him, and he scanned the forest floor, looking for anything he could use. His hand brushed against a jagged stone, half-buried in the dirt, and he seized it, gripping it tightly as he whirled around to face the creature.

The Salarkista’s mouth opened wide, revealing rows of needle-like teeth dripping with saliva. With a yell, Ajal launched himself forward, slamming the stone into the creature’s translucent belly with all his strength. The gelatinous flesh quivered, and a dark, oily fluid seeped from the wound, hissing as it touched the ground.

The Salarkista screeched in fury, reeling back as its tendrils flailed wildly. Ajal took the opportunity to scramble away, using the creature’s momentary disorientation to put some distance between them. He stumbled over roots and rocks, his muscles screaming in protest, but he pushed himself forward, refusing to let up.

He could see a break in the trees up ahead—a faint glow of daylight. His heart pounded with a surge of hope as he sprinted toward it, ducking low as another tendril whipped past him, tearing a chunk of bark from a tree. He didn’t dare look back; he knew the Salarkista was still right behind him, driven to a frenzy by his resistance.

“Almost there,” he muttered, gritting his teeth. He pushed off the ground, leaping over a fallen log, his mind racing through every possible move, every potential escape. His body moved on instinct, each step fueled by sheer determination and the need to survive.

The forest opened up just ahead, and he could see the fields surrounding the village in the distance. If he could just reach them, maybe someone would see him—maybe someone would come to help.

But before he could clear the last line of trees, a tendril lashed out, catching him around the waist and yanking him backward with a violent force. He slammed into the ground, the air rushing from his lungs, and he struggled against the creature’s grip, his mind blank with terror.

He clawed at the tendril, his fingers slipping against its slick, cold surface. The Salarkista loomed over him, its crimson eyes gleaming with a terrible hunger as it drew him closer, its mouth opening wide.

Panic flared in Ajal’s chest, but beneath it was a strange, steely resolve. He wouldn’t let this creature take him. Not here. Not now. He gritted his teeth, muscles tensing as he summoned every ounce of strength he had left.

With a sudden burst of energy, he twisted in the Salarkista’s grip, bringing his knee up and slamming it into the creature’s soft, gelatinous belly. The Salarkista shrieked, recoiling just enough for him to slip free and roll away. He staggered to his feet, his vision swimming, but he forced himself to keep moving, one step at a time.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Just a little farther.

Ajal’s foot hit a tangle of roots, nearly sending him sprawling, but he caught himself, pressing onward as he saw the last line of trees thinning ahead. He could see the light beyond, brighter now, the open space that led to the village.

The Salarkista let out a final, enraged scream, and Ajal heard it closing in behind him, faster than before, a wave of hot, foul-smelling air.

He broke through the treeline, stumbling into the clearing just beyond the forest. The village lay ahead, but his legs felt like lead, his body drained, his vision blurring. He could barely stay upright, but he forced himself forward, each step a battle against the weight of exhaustion.

The Salarkista burst out of the forest behind him, its eyes blazing with fury, its tendrils thrashing as it bore down on him. Ajal knew he couldn’t keep running, not with the strength he had left. He turned to face it, his chest heaving, his fists clenched as he prepared to fight to the end.

But then, the creature stopped.

Its entire body went rigid, its eyes widening in something that almost looked like… fear. It stared past Ajal, focusing on something in the distance, and its tendrils twitched, pulling back slightly.

Ajal turned, his heart pounding, as a figure stepped into the clearing—a tall, lean man with a carefree grin and eyes that held an unsettling calm. It was the same man from his dream, the hooded figure with the strange, knowing smile.

The man raised a hand, his smile widening, and the Salarkista’s movements stilled. It didn’t scream, didn’t try to flee; it simply froze, as though held in place by an invisible force.

With a faint, almost casual wave of his hand, the man lowered his arm—and the Salarkista collapsed, dead before it even hit the ground.

Ajal stared, his mind struggling to process what he’d just witnessed. He looked up at the man, who was watching him with a raised eyebrow, his smile never fading.

“Kaito,” the man said, as if introducing himself at a party, his voice light and easy. “Hero of the War of Sinners, but you can call me the guy who just saved your life.”

Ajal stared, gasping for breath, as the stranger lowered his hand, his expression as calm as if he’d just swatted a fly. The Salarkista lay sprawled across the ground, lifeless, its tendrils limp, its glassy eyes frozen in fear.

The man took a step forward, hands still tucked into his pockets, his gaze fixed on Ajal with an unsettlingly casual interest. Up close, Ajal could make out more details: dark hair that hung just over his eyes, a faint scar tracing down his jawline, and a grin that looked almost amused.

“So, birthday boy,” the man said, raising an eyebrow. “You must be Ajal. Your village’s latest troublemaker, if I remember right?”

Ajal blinked, still too stunned to respond. “I… uh… who are you?”

The man’s grin widened, his eyes twinkling with a glint of mischief. “Kaito. You may have heard of me—legendary hero, veteran of the War of Sinners, savior of the innocent, vanquisher of evil, protector of the weak—”

He took a dramatic step back, raising one arm high in the air while placing his other hand over his heart, as though addressing an adoring crowd. “That’s right, folks! I am Kaito, the one and only! The man who stood alone on the cliffs of Severon and said to the gods themselves, ‘Bring it on!’”

Ajal stared, wide-eyed, his confusion mounting. He’d heard wild stories about Kaito in whispers around Crater Village, but only as a name in old legends. Most people thought he was a myth, a figure from some tale meant to inspire children to be brave.

“Uh… right,” Ajal managed, glancing around awkwardly. “So, you just… happen to stroll into the forest and kill a Salarkista on your day off?”

Kaito dropped the pose, his grin widening as he clapped Ajal on the shoulder. “Exactly! Gotta keep myself entertained somehow.” He leaned in, lowering his voice with a conspiratorial wink. “But I’ll admit, kid, you did well out there. Most people would’ve frozen up… or just been eaten. You kept your head. I like that.”

Ajal’s face flushed with a mix of pride and confusion, but he quickly masked it with a shrug. “Well, I was planning to outrun it, but I guess facing it worked too.”

Kaito laughed, shaking his head. “Maybe running would’ve been the smarter move. But then again…” His gaze shifted, seeming to search the air around Ajal as if he were looking for something only he could see.

Ajal shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, the thrill of survival fading as the weight of Kaito’s attention pressed down on him.

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They emerged from the forest and stepped onto the path leading into Crater Village. Up ahead, Ajal could see a group of villagers gathered at the village entrance, some of them holding weapons or farm tools, others murmuring anxiously. He spotted Katria at the front, clutching her bow, her expression tight with worry as she scanned the tree line.

The moment she saw him, her face lit up with relief—but her expression quickly darkened as she noticed Kaito walking beside him.

“Ajal!” she shouted, rushing over. She gripped his arms, looking him over with barely contained panic. “Are you alright? I thought—”

“I’m fine, Kat,” he reassured her, though his voice was still shaky. “Ran into some trouble, but… Kaito here helped me out.”

Katria’s gaze shifted sharply to Kaito, her expression immediately hardening. “Kaito?” She looked him up and down, taking in his relaxed grin and cocky posture. “So… you’re just some random hero who happened to be wandering by?”

At her words, Kaito’s face lit up, and he sprang into a dramatic pose, one hand on his hip and the other pointing skyward. “Not just any hero, my skeptical friend!” he announced loudly enough for the entire crowd to hear. “I am Kaito, the legendary warrior, hero of the War of Sinners, the one who single-handedly turned the tide against the Twelve Beasts of the Void!”

The crowd exchanged puzzled glances, a few of them murmuring to each other. Some of the younger villagers looked at him in awe, while the elders frowned, clearly unimpressed by his theatrics.

A middle-aged woman in the back folded her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Legendary hero? Never heard of him,” she muttered to her neighbor.

Katria’s expression stayed flat. “Right. Well, if you’re done posing, ‘legendary hero,’ we don’t actually know anything about you. And considering what we just went through, I think you owe us an explanation.”

Before Kaito could respond, one of the village guards, Roken, stepped forward with a grim expression, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He was flanked by two other guards, both eyeing Kaito warily.

“Whoever you are,” Roken said, his tone hard, “you’re not welcome here without permission from the chief. And you don’t get to wander around our village like you own the place just because you killed a monster.”

Kaito raised his hands in a mock display of surrender, clearly unfazed by the hostility. “Come on now,” he said with a smirk, “is that any way to treat the guy who just saved your precious Inheritor-to-be here?” He gave Ajal a wink, as if the whole thing were some grand joke.

Roken’s expression didn’t change. “Whether you saved him or not, trespassing is still trespassing. And if you’re who you say you are, you’ll have no problem explaining yourself to Chief Harika.”

Kaito sighed dramatically, glancing over at Ajal with a look of exaggerated hurt. “See, kid? This is the thanks I get for saving your life. These folks think I’m just some… what, dangerous vagrant?”

Ajal shifted awkwardly, glancing between Kaito and the guards. “Uh… maybe you should just… you know, go along with them? It’s probably easier that way.”

But Kaito ignored him, shrugging as he turned his attention back to the crowd. “Alright, alright. I’ll go along, though I’d like the record to show that I’m here as a guest of honor.” He gave a theatrical bow, as if addressing an invisible audience.

As he straightened up, his gaze landed on Theo, who had just arrived with Ajal’s parents. For a brief second, something flickered across Kaito’s face—recognition, almost, as if he’d seen a ghost. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual grin.

Ajal’s mother, Nora, reached him first, pulling him into a tight hug. “Ajal! Are you alright? Katria said there was a Salarkista… We were so worried.”

“I’m fine, Mom,” he said, a little breathless from the hug. “Just… a bit scraped up. But Kaito here—”

Kaito interrupted with a casual wave. “Oh, don’t worry. Your boy’s tough. I just gave him a little hand with the big scary monster.”

Eren, Ajal’s father, stepped forward, his gaze serious but grateful. “Then we owe you thanks… Kaito, was it?”

Kaito gave a lazy salute. “That’s right. Always happy to help.”

Theo, who had been watching the exchange quietly, took a step forward, giving Kaito a curious look. “Kaito, huh?” he murmured, almost to himself. His eyes narrowed slightly, as though trying to place the man’s face. “You know, you look…”

But before he could finish, Kaito gave a dismissive wave, his expression slipping back into its usual cheer. “Ah, I get that a lot. People think they’ve seen me before. I just have one of those faces.”

Roken cleared his throat, cutting through the tension. “Alright, that’s enough. Kaito, you’re coming with us to speak with Chief Harika. If you really are this ‘legendary hero’ you claim to be, you can explain yourself to her.”

Kaito let out an exaggerated sigh but didn’t resist as the guards moved to flank him. “Fine, fine. Let’s go meet the chief. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to meet a real legend.” He threw Ajal a wink. “Catch you later, birthday boy.”

As the guards led Kaito away, Ajal watched him go, still trying to process everything that had just happened. The adrenaline from the Salarkista encounter was starting to wear off, leaving him drained and more than a little overwhelmed.

But the image of Kaito’s confident grin lingered in his mind, along with his last words: Catch you later, birthday boy.

As Kaito disappeared from view, flanked by the guards, the crowd began to disperse, though Ajal could still feel the weight of curious eyes on him. Whispers rippled through the villagers, fragments of conversation drifting to his ears.

“Did you see that man? Kaito, he said… isn’t that just a story?”

“And he killed a Salarkista by himself? Just like that?”

“Trouble follows people like that. Mark my words.”

Ajal’s mother, Nora, placed a hand on his shoulder, her worried gaze studying his face. “Ajal… what happened out there? Katria told us you were attacked, but… that man, he just showed up?”

Ajal took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Yeah. We were hunting in the forest when this… thing got through the barrier. I thought we were done for.” He shook his head, still half in disbelief. “And then Kaito appeared. Took down the Salarkista like it was nothing.”

Katria, who had been standing beside him, crossed her arms tightly. “Yeah, and acted like it was no big deal, too.” She huffed, her distrust of Kaito evident. “It’s like he enjoyed how freaked out everyone was. Who does that?”

Eren gave a thoughtful nod, glancing in the direction the guards had taken Kaito. “Legends or not, people with that kind of power are rare… and dangerous. We’ll see what the chief has to say about him.”

Theo grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, Ajal, seems like you had quite the adventure. First you nearly get eaten, then you get rescued by a ‘legendary hero.’ If this is what turning eighteen is like, maybe I’ll stop teasing you about being the baby of the family.”

Ajal rolled his eyes, but he could feel the tension starting to ease just a bit. Even though his family was clearly shaken, their familiar banter grounded him. He glanced at Katria, who was still glaring in the direction Kaito had gone.

“Kat, come on,” he said, giving her a nudge. “You have to admit, he did save us.”

Katria scoffed, not quite meeting his eyes. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to like him. People who show up out of nowhere with that much power… they never mean anything good.” Her voice softened a bit, and she looked away, almost embarrassed. “I just don’t want you getting mixed up in something dangerous.”

Eren cleared his throat, nodding in agreement. “Katria’s right. Ajal, I know you’re probably feeling… grateful to this man, but be careful. A person who can do what he did to a Salarkista—that’s someone the gods themselves might have an eye on.”

Ajal shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was something about Kaito that felt… strange. Like the man knew something about him, something he wasn’t saying. But he didn’t want to worry his family any more than he already had, so he forced a smile and shrugged.

“I’ll be careful,” he promised, though even he could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

A few other villagers approached then, offering Ajal well-wishes and murmuring reassurances. It was an odd experience; most of them had known him since he was born, and suddenly they were treating him as if he’d done something noteworthy, something important. He felt their curiosity and concern pressing in on him, questions he didn’t know how to answer.

After a few minutes, Chief Harika emerged from her home on the other side of the square, her expression calm but serious. She motioned for Ajal and his family to follow her, gesturing toward the village hall where the council meetings were held. The guards were already escorting Kaito inside, and she threw Ajal a reassuring nod as they fell into step behind her.

“Ajal, I’d like you to sit in on this,” she said in a low voice, her gaze warm but resolute. “I think it’s important for you to hear what this man has to say.”

Ajal exchanged a glance with his parents and nodded, his stomach twisting with a mix of dread and curiosity. As they entered the village hall, he felt the quiet gravity of the place settle over him. This was where important decisions were made, where the lives of everyone in Crater Village were discussed and safeguarded.

Inside, Kaito was seated casually on a bench, flanked by two guards who seemed tense despite his relaxed posture. He looked up as they entered, flashing Ajal a playful grin as if this were all some kind of joke.

“Ah, the man of the hour!” he said, leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head. “I was wondering if they’d let you in here, kid. Looks like your chief here knows what she’s doing.”

Chief Harika gave him a flat, unimpressed look. “If you’re quite finished with your theatrics, Kaito, perhaps you’d like to explain what brought you to our village—and why you decided to involve yourself with a Salarkista on our land.”

Kaito gave a lazy shrug, glancing around the room as if he were admiring the decor. “Simple, really. I happened to be passing by and saw two kids about to become lunch for a very nasty pet. Thought I’d lend a hand.” He smirked. “Figured you wouldn’t mind me taking care of it.”

One of the council members, an elder named Rinna, raised an eyebrow. “And we’re supposed to believe you just ‘happened’ to be passing through? You expect us to take your word at face value?”

Kaito put on a mock-hurt expression, pressing a hand to his chest. “What, you don’t believe in coincidences? Fate? Destiny?” He glanced at Ajal, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. “Or maybe I was just in the right place at the right time. Maybe the gods have a funny way of making things work out.”

Ajal shivered, feeling an unspoken weight in Kaito’s words. It was as though the man knew something he wasn’t saying—something about him. He wanted to ask, but the room was tense with distrust, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for any answers Kaito might have.

Chief Harika narrowed her eyes, clearly unfazed by his theatrics. “Let’s assume you’re telling the truth, Kaito. That still doesn’t explain who you are, or why you’re so… well-equipped to handle something that can break through our barrier.”

Kaito chuckled, spreading his arms as if to display himself. “Haven’t you heard the stories? Kaito, hero of the War of Sinners? Vanquisher of the Twelve Beasts of the Void?” He paused, glancing around, and when he saw the blank stares, he sighed. “Unbelievable. I save the world once, maybe twice, and nobody remembers.”

The guards stiffened, but Harika just sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We don’t have time for games, Kaito. You may have helped, but you’re still a stranger here. If you want to leave this village freely, I suggest you tell us what you’re really here for.”

Kaito’s grin faded slightly, his gaze sharpening. For the first time, a trace of seriousness crept into his tone. “I told you. I was just passing through. I’m not here to cause trouble, but if trouble’s already here…” He glanced at Ajal, and something flickered across his face—recognition, maybe even caution.

Ajal swallowed, feeling like Kaito’s gaze was reaching into something he himself didn’t fully understand.

After a moment, Kaito shrugged, the grin returning. “Anyway, you can relax. I’ll be on my way soon enough. Just thought I’d make sure your future Reaper here didn’t get his career cut short on day one.”

The council members exchanged confused glances, and Chief Harika’s frown deepened. “Future… Reaper?”

Kaito just chuckled, leaning back as if he’d said nothing unusual. “Just a figure of speech,” he said smoothly, winking at Ajal. “Guess you’ll have to stick around to see what I mean.”

The room fell silent as Ajal felt a strange, heavy sense of anticipation settle over him. He wasn’t sure if Kaito’s words were a warning or a promise, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that, whatever Kaito had seen in him, it was something he himself would soon have to face.

The village council chamber was thick with tension. Kaito sat with an air of casual indifference, his arms folded behind his head, watching the village council members with a faint, mischievous smile. Ajal stood off to the side with his family, feeling the weight of Kaito’s earlier words settle heavily on his shoulders. Future Reaper? Kaito had tossed out the phrase as if it were nothing, but the implications were anything but light.

Just then, a soft voice spoke up from the back of the room.

“Um… actually, I think he might be telling the truth.”

All heads turned as Tessa stepped forward, clutching a leather-bound book to her chest. She was a slight girl, her dark hair neatly braided over one shoulder, and her face was half-hidden behind her book, as if she were trying to blend into the background despite having just spoken up. Her gaze flicked around the room, landing briefly on Ajal—only to dart away just as quickly, her cheeks flushing slightly.

“Tessa?” Chief Harika said, sounding surprised. “What are you doing here?”

Tessa shifted awkwardly, clearing her throat as she avoided looking in Ajal’s direction. “I, um… heard about the Salarkista attack and… well, I thought maybe I could help.” Her voice was quiet, but there was a quiet confidence in the way she spoke, as if she were used to gathering information and piecing together clues.

She glanced at Kaito, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “You said… ‘Reaper,’ didn’t you?”

Kaito’s smile widened, and he gave her an approving nod. “That I did. Smart girl. I knew someone here had to be paying attention.”

Tessa’s cheeks turned a shade pinker, but she ignored the compliment, clutching her book a little tighter as she turned to address Chief Harika and the council. “If he called Ajal a ‘Reaper,’ he might be referring to… well, a type of Inheritor.”

“Inheritor?” Ajal repeated, feeling the unfamiliar word hang in the air.

Tessa looked at him for a split second before quickly averting her gaze, directing her explanation toward Chief Harika instead. “An Inheritor is someone chosen by the gods to wield an artifact they once used themselves. It’s rare—almost unheard of—but it’s said that those who inherit these artifacts carry a piece of the god’s power with them.”

The council members murmured among themselves, and Ajal could feel the villagers’ eyes shifting between him and Kaito with a new sense of awe—and maybe a bit of fear.

Roken, the guard, scowled, crossing his arms. “And you’re saying this… Kaito is here because he believes Ajal is one of these… Inheritors?”

Tessa nodded, keeping her eyes on the ground to avoid Ajal’s gaze. “It would explain why he called Ajal a ‘Reaper.’ That term… it’s associated with artifacts of death, like scythes or other symbols of the end.”

Ajal swallowed, feeling a strange chill creep up his spine. “Wait, but… I didn’t get anything like that. I mean, I just turned eighteen. I didn’t get any… ‘artifact’ or whatever.”

Kaito chuckled, leaning forward with a glint in his eyes. “Patience, kid. The gods have a flair for timing. They don’t usually drop life-changing gifts right in your lap without letting you stew over it a bit.”

Tessa looked up, studying Kaito with a cautious curiosity. “If he really is an Inheritor,” she continued, still directing her words to the council rather than Ajal, “then he might be bound to a mission, or some kind of duty. Inheritors often have… obligations.”

Katria raised an eyebrow, still eyeing Kaito with distrust. “And how would you know all this, Tessa?”

Tessa’s cheeks flushed, and she fidgeted with the edges of her book. “I… read a lot,” she mumbled, glancing down. “There are stories about Inheritors in some of the older texts. Most people don’t pay attention to them because… well, they’re mostly thought to be myths.”

Kaito laughed, clapping his hands once. “See, that’s what I love—someone who actually reads the fine print! I was starting to think I’d have to explain it all myself.”

Tessa ducked her head, looking even more embarrassed by the attention. She glanced at Ajal briefly, as if to gauge his reaction, but the moment their eyes met, she quickly looked away again, turning her focus back to Chief Harika.

Chief Harika’s expression was unreadable as she considered Tessa’s words. “So if Ajal is indeed an Inheritor,” she said slowly, “that would mean he’s been… chosen, by the gods themselves.”

Kaito gave a nonchalant shrug. “More or less. But don’t get too excited yet, folks. These things can get messy. Gods don’t give gifts for free, you know.”

Ajal felt the full weight of the room’s attention shift to him, an uncomfortable mix of awe, curiosity, and fear. He looked down, gripping his hands together, feeling both exposed and overwhelmed. He hadn’t asked for any of this. Until this morning, he’d been just another farm boy, someone with no clear direction in life. And now… this.

Tessa glanced at him again, her expression softening as she seemed to pick up on his discomfort. She took a tiny step toward him, opening her mouth as if she wanted to say something reassuring, but at the last moment, her courage seemed to falter. Instead, she turned her attention back to Chief Harika, her cheeks tinged pink.

“So… what happens now?” she asked quietly, still avoiding Ajal’s gaze.

Chief Harika glanced around the room, her face thoughtful. “First, we’ll keep this information contained. The last thing we need is panic spreading through the village over ancient myths. Second…” She looked at Ajal, her gaze steady but kind. “Ajal, we’ll need to keep an eye on you. If you really are an Inheritor, then whatever Gift the gods have planned for you… it will reveal itself soon.”

Ajal swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “And… what if I don’t want it?”

Kaito let out a low chuckle, his eyes gleaming with something almost like sympathy. “Kid, if the gods have their sights on you, you don’t get much of a choice in the matter. You can try running, but… well, let’s just say it never works out the way you think it will.”

Ajal felt the room close in around him, the weight of Kaito’s words settling like a stone in his chest. The idea of running had crossed his mind—leaving the village, escaping this unwanted responsibility. But the way Kaito said it, as if he’d seen this scenario play out a thousand times… it made him feel trapped, bound by a fate he hadn’t chosen.

He glanced over at Tessa, who was still standing beside him, her gaze fixed determinedly on the floor. Despite her shyness, she’d been the only one to understand what Kaito was saying, the only one to explain what this might mean for him. He wanted to thank her, to ask her more about what she knew, but she seemed intent on avoiding his eyes, her cheeks still flushed.

Chief Harika let out a sigh, drawing everyone’s attention back to her. “For now, we proceed as we always have. We protect the village, keep our people safe, and stay vigilant. Ajal…” She softened, her tone almost motherly. “If you notice anything—anything unusual—tell us. We’ll do our best to guide you.”

Ajal nodded, though he still felt like he was in a haze, struggling to make sense of the day’s events.

Kaito pushed himself up from the bench, stretching his arms over his head. “Well! If my work here is done, maybe I’ll stick around for a bit. I’ve always wanted to see how small villages handle things like ‘divine destiny.’”

Chief Harika shot him a sharp look. “You’ll stay under guard, Kaito. And if you’re truly here to help, you’ll respect our rules.”

Kaito gave an exaggerated sigh, holding up his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. No need to be so serious, Chief. I’ll be on my best behavior.” He glanced at Ajal, a mischievous glint in his eye. “For now.”

As the council adjourned, Tessa slipped away quietly, disappearing into the crowd without so much as a backward glance at Ajal. He watched her go, feeling a mix of gratitude and frustration. She was the only one who seemed to understand what was happening, yet she’d barely spoken to him. He made a mental note to find her later… if he could work up the courage.

As the council dispersed, the villagers lingered in the square, murmuring to one another as they stole glances at Ajal. He could feel their curiosity pressing in on him, and though he tried to ignore it, the weight of their attention was undeniable. Some of the younger villagers looked at him with admiration, while the elders seemed wary, their eyes shadowed with questions they didn’t dare ask.

Katria walked at his side, her arms crossed tightly as she glared at anyone who stared too long. “Just ignore them,” she muttered. “They’re acting like you’ve turned into some kind of… of prophet overnight.”

Ajal let out a dry laugh, though it felt forced. “Right. All I did was almost get eaten.”

They made their way out of the square and onto the dirt path leading back toward the family’s farmhouse. Ajal’s father, Eren, walked close beside him, a steadying presence amidst the lingering tension. After a moment, he gave Ajal a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “Let’s go home, son. We’ll figure this out together.”

Ajal nodded, grateful for the familiarity of his father’s words. But as they continued along the path, he found himself unable to shake the feeling that he was somehow… different. Like he was seeing the world from a distance, no longer just Ajal, the boy from Crater Village, but something more. Something unknown.

Finally, his mother, Nora, spoke up, her voice soft but steady. “Ajal… you know that no matter what anyone says, or what this Kaito might think, you’re still you. You’ll always have us. You’re not alone in this.”

Ajal managed a faint smile, but her words stirred a strange mix of emotions within him. The thought of being an Inheritor—a chosen one, a vessel of the gods—filled him with a tentative, uneasy thrill. Ever since he could remember, he’d struggled with the question of who he was supposed to be, what he was supposed to do with his life. The family farm, the village… he loved them, but he’d never been able to picture himself spending his life here, doing the same things day after day.

And now, fate—or the gods, or whatever power was out there—seemed to be offering him a path. A purpose.

But the path was tangled, fraught with uncertainty. Kaito’s words came back to him: the gods don’t give Gifts without reason. The thought of being bound to some grand, divine mission sounded daunting, even terrifying. But it also felt… important. Maybe this is what I was meant to do. The idea was both exhilarating and overwhelming.

Katria interrupted his thoughts, her voice laced with frustration. “Just because some stranger says you’re an Inheritor, that doesn’t mean you have to go along with it, you know.” She crossed her arms, scowling. “You’re still in control of your life, Ajal.”

Ajal looked at her, trying to find the words to explain the strange pull he was feeling. “But… what if this is the answer, Kat? What if this is what I’m supposed to do?” He paused, searching for the right words. “I don’t know… maybe it’s stupid, but I’ve spent so long wondering where I fit, what I’m meant to be. And now… maybe this is it.”

Katria frowned, her gaze softening. “Just be careful. Purpose or not, you can’t trust everyone who comes along saying you’re ‘chosen.’ There’s a lot we don’t know about this Kaito guy. And if you go along with everything he says, you might end up getting hurt.”

Ajal nodded, appreciating her concern, but the uncertainty remained. It was true that Kaito was a mystery—and the idea of blindly trusting him seemed reckless. But something deep inside Ajal stirred at the thought of becoming an Inheritor, of wielding the power of the gods. Could he really walk away from that possibility?

They reached the farmhouse, and Eren held the door open, ushering everyone inside. Ajal moved to sit by the hearth, sinking onto one of the worn wooden stools, his mind racing. He looked down at his hands, studying the small nicks and calluses from years of farm work. They felt like someone else’s hands now, like they belonged to a version of him that he was slowly leaving behind.

His father joined him by the hearth, sitting down with a thoughtful expression. “Ajal,” he said slowly, “I don’t pretend to know what the gods have planned. But I do know that purpose isn’t something you find in a day. If this path calls to you, then take your time with it. Don’t rush.”

Nora nodded, her eyes gentle as she looked at Ajal. “No matter what happens, you’re still our son. Whether you choose to embrace this or not, we’ll support you.”

Ajal felt a surge of gratitude for his family, their steady presence grounding him even as the world around him seemed to shift. “Thanks,” he said quietly, managing a smile. “I… I think I’ll need some time to figure this out.”

Theo, who had been leaning against the doorframe with a relaxed grin, gave him a playful nudge. “And hey, if you decide to become some big, important ‘Reaper,’ just remember to give us a discount on any ‘reaping’ services, alright?”

Ajal snorted, unable to help a small laugh. “Sure, Theo. I’ll put you down for the family rate.”

They shared a brief, light-hearted moment, but Ajal could still feel the weight of everything that had happened. His family’s words had comforted him, but the question of what to do next hung over him like a storm cloud, full of promise and danger.

As the evening wore on, the family slowly drifted off to their rooms, giving Ajal space to sit alone by the dying fire. He stared into the embers, his mind racing with possibilities, doubts, and the strange, thrilling sense that his life was on the edge of something vast and unknown.

Is this really what I want?

Part of him felt that he should be afraid—that the unknown should scare him, especially with Kaito’s warnings fresh in his mind. But another part of him felt a thrill he couldn’t ignore. The idea of being chosen by the gods, of being important in some way—it was everything he’d never dared to hope for.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that by choosing this path, he’d be leaving behind the life he’d always known. The familiar routines, the quiet safety of the village, his family… if he embraced this destiny, could he ever come back?

The fire crackled softly, casting shadows that danced along the walls. His thoughts drifted to Tessa, to the way she’d spoken of Inheritors with such quiet certainty. She’d been the only one who seemed to understand what he might be facing. Maybe he could talk to her, ask her what she knew. She always had her nose in a book, and he’d bet she knew more than she’d let on today.

Lost in thought, Ajal barely noticed the hours slipping by as he grappled with his fears and hopes. The fire burned lower, the room growing dim, but he stayed by the hearth, waiting for some kind of answer to form in the quiet of his own mind.

Then, just as the last embers began to fade, he felt a strange warmth bloom in his chest, pulsing softly, like the first hint of dawn breaking over the horizon.

Something was coming.

He didn’t know what, or how soon, but he could feel it—a quiet, undeniable sense that the gods had already set something in motion, something that would reach him before he had the chance to turn away.

Ajal wasn’t ready to go home just yet. The fire’s glow had faded, but the questions lingering in his mind were still burning strong. He wanted answers—no, he needed answers. And there was only one person in the village who might have them.

He found Tessa near the outskirts of the square, perched on a low stone wall beneath a tree, a thick leather-bound book balanced on her knees. She was so absorbed in her reading that she didn’t notice him approaching until he cleared his throat, and even then, she nearly dropped the book in surprise.

“Oh! Ajal,” she stammered, her cheeks immediately turning pink. She glanced away, fidgeting with the corner of a page as if it held her entire focus. “I, um… didn’t expect to see you.”

Ajal managed a small, uncertain smile, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry to just… pop up. I just thought…” He paused, realizing he wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted to say. “I thought maybe you could help me understand all this. You know, about… Inheritors.”

Tessa’s face flushed a little deeper, and she focused intently on her book. “Oh… well, I don’t know that much,” she mumbled, though Ajal could tell from the way she clutched the book that she probably knew more than she was letting on.

He took a seat on the wall next to her, leaving enough space so she wouldn’t feel crowded. “You seemed to know a lot back in the council hall,” he said gently. “More than anyone else, really.”

Tessa glanced sideways at him, her expression softening as she gathered her thoughts. “Well… I’ve read some old texts. My father keeps a lot of books, and, um… I’ve always liked reading about the gods and their… gifts.” Her gaze flickered to him and then away, clearly avoiding direct eye contact.

Ajal could tell she was nervous, but he appreciated her honesty. “So… do you really think I’m an Inheritor? That I could end up, I don’t know… wielding some god’s weapon or something?”

She hesitated, her fingers tracing patterns along the leather cover of her book. “It’s possible,” she admitted. “If the gods chose you, it means they saw something in you… something important.” She swallowed, her voice growing softer. “Inheritors are rare, Ajal. People say they can change the course of history. But it’s… it’s not an easy path.”

Ajal felt a shiver run through him, both from her words and from the earnest tone in her voice. “What if I’m not cut out for this?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “What if I… mess it all up?”

Tessa’s gaze softened, and for a moment, she looked at him fully, her eyes warm and understanding. “I don’t think the gods would choose someone who couldn’t handle it,” she said quietly. “But… it’s okay to be scared. Everyone is, even if they won’t admit it.”

Ajal was taken aback by the sincerity in her tone, and he found himself smiling, a genuine one this time. “Thanks, Tessa. I… I needed to hear that.”

She blushed, quickly looking back at her book, mumbling, “Oh, it’s nothing. Really.”

For a moment, he thought about asking her more, about the specifics of what being an Inheritor would mean for him. But something about her quiet encouragement made him feel like he’d already received the answer he was looking for—or at least a small piece of it. He stood up, giving her a grateful nod.

“I’ll see you around,” he said, and she nodded back, her cheeks still pink as she gave him a quick, shy smile.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Ajal walked away from Tessa, the night air felt cool against his skin, carrying the scent of the forest and the distant, earthy warmth of the village fires. He felt restless, his mind buzzing with the weight of the day’s revelations. Without really planning where he was going, he found himself wandering to the edge of the village, just past the fields, where the land opened up under a vast sky dusted with stars.

He paused there, standing in the quiet darkness, his thoughts drifting. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted, its call echoing through the trees. He took a deep breath, staring up at the stars, hoping the open air might bring him some clarity.

But then, something strange happened.

The air around him grew thick and still, as if every sound, every whisper of wind had been silenced. A prickling sensation spread across his skin, and he felt a faint warmth building in his chest, growing stronger with each beat of his heart.

Ajal looked down, eyes widening as he saw a faint, white glow begin to pulse from within him, radiating outward like a light breaking through fog. The warmth intensified, rising into his throat and filling his lungs, until it was all he could feel. His hands trembled, and his vision blurred as the world around him seemed to dim.

Then, suddenly, his eyes flared with brilliant white light, casting an eerie glow across his face and illuminating the darkness around him. A powerful energy surged through him, an invisible force that thrummed in his veins, stronger than anything he had ever felt. He tried to cry out, but his voice caught in his throat as his nose began to bleed, followed by a hot, stinging trickle from the corners of his eyes.

The white glow around him grew brighter, forming a shimmering aura that pulsed in rhythm with his racing heartbeat. He felt his knees buckle, the weight of the energy overwhelming him, pressing down on him like an invisible hand.

And then, in a sudden burst of darkness, the light vanished, replaced by a deep, inky blackness that seemed to swallow everything around him. He gasped, feeling the air shift, as something cool and weightless wrapped itself around his neck. He reached up, his fingers brushing against a fabric unlike any he’d ever felt—soft as silk but with a strange, almost unsettling depth to it, as if he were touching a void itself.

It was a scarf, impossibly dark, its fabric drinking in the moonlight and refusing to let it escape. The ends of the scarf lifted, drifting and curling as though they were alive, waving in the air despite the stillness of the night. It was as if the scarf had a will of its own, a presence that pulsed in time with his heartbeat.

Ajal stared at it in shock, barely able to process what he was seeing. The scarf felt cold against his skin, yet it seemed to hum with a strange, quiet power, a silent promise of the strength it carried. Looking at it was like staring into the heart of a void—an endless, unknowable darkness that felt as though it could consume anything that came near.

As he touched the fabric, a wave of dizziness crashed over him. His vision darkened at the edges, and he felt his knees give out as the last remnants of his strength drained away. The world spun, and the last thing he saw was the scarf drifting around him, its shadowy tendrils curling in the air like living smoke.

And then, everything went black.