Lorelei sat petrified, her eyes desperately peeled at Orhana in search of signs that she was lying. She had to be lying. The open, smiling face of Yanosh, the sadness, tenderness, and pride in his gaze as he talked about Noah, resurfaced in Lorelei’s memory. Had it been all a lie? Simply an intricate display of learned emotions by an emotionless ghost? A carefully calculated plan? In the pit of her stomach, the false core Yanosh had created burned like a little sun, its gentle warmth spreading throughout her body. She had met that man only for the briefest of moments, yet his goodness and compassion had felt genuine. To think it was just a mask…

“How…” Lorelei’s voice broke. “How did you… make Noah part of the prophecy?”

“The chosen protector of Norden had to fulfill certain conditions.” Orhana cupped some water from the pond in her hand and let it dribble between her fingers, each landing droplet accompanying the ghost’s words. “Bayan did carry the brand-mark of a beast and he did come back to Norden after escaping from Limris. However, he was not a complete match.”

“On the night of a red moon, Hope will wither. On the day without sun, Hope will bud,” Lorelei chimed in hoarsely.

“Yes. Noah also came from beyond the sea.” Orhana whispered, her eyes - fixated on the dripping water. “And he was born at midday during a thunderstorm. This was enough to be considered a day without a sun, but not the most convincing evidence. Yani needed a second ‘beast’ to be able to bend the prophecy. So, the day Noah was supposed to die, he intervened.”

The small pond began to shimmer, attracting Lorelei’s attention. The water surface trembled and colorful shadows spread over it like splatters of ink. Little by little, they formed images of trees and people. A breath of wind brushed past Lorelei’s ears, carrying the scent of pines and the whisper of voices.

“It happened the first winter after Noah arrived in Norden,” said Orhana, her words almost melting into the wind. “Some turgans decided to get rid of the new duke before he could get a proper hold of the land. During a boar hunt, they managed to lure Noah away from the main group…”

Peering into the pond, Lorelei saw a dark, inhospitable forest. Tall pines reached for the starry skies, their black, feather-like branches covered in glistening icicles that hung down akin to monstrous teeth. Piles of cerulean snow enveloped the undergrowth, turning it into a frozen world of blue crystal. Between the dark trunks, ghastly turquoise light seeped into the night, brightening a narrow clearing.

Beyond the edge of the light circle, a figure lurked behind a thorny thicket. The eerie glow illuminated half of the man’s face, the young, soft features being contoured by deep ink-black shadows. A lock of white hair escaped the constraints of his hood and fell in a sparkling cascade over his shoulder. Despite the warm, fur-trimmed coat he was wearing, the man’s body shivered from time to time, his hands fidgeting with a short sheathed dagger.

The snow next to him crunched and Orhana’s whisper, muffled and slightly distorted like coming through layers of cotton, ebbed into the night:

“We must intervene! Now!”

“Not yet.” The man responded in kind, his eyes peeled on something beyond the bushes.

“Not yet?” Orhana hissed and a gloved hand fell on the man’s shoulder. “Why are you hesitating? You were the one who wanted to do this. If we wait any longer-”

“It’s not the right time.”

“Yani!”

“Be quiet, Hana, or they’ll spot us. Trust me. It’s not the time to act yet. I need to make sure… I need to know that he is the one.”

A shrill scream echoed between the trees. The gloved fingers dug into Yanosh’s coat.

“How… can you watch this so calmly?”

“I have no right to look away.” Yanosh shivered and his features twisted in agony. “I must never forget… My crime. And my hope.”

For a split second, the image in the pond blurred into a colorful kaleidoscope of fractured images. When the surface cleared, the standpoint had shifted, depicting the dell between the trees. At equal intervals, tufts of turquoise flames floated suspended in the air. The area they surrounded was littered with the bodies of dogs, horses, and broken spears. At the rim of the fire circle, seven white-haired figures stood in the half-shadows, their laugh and cheering voices feeling so out of place in the eerie night.

“Is the high and mighty lord crying?”

“Getting ghost-touched so easily... You ain’t much without your relics and imperial guards.”

“If you beg on your knees, we might end your suffering faster.”

“Nah, he deserves it for all that his kin has done to us.”

“Do you feel it already? The pain we’ve felt?”

“Come now, little princeling, is that the best you can do? Where are your Gods and Saints to protect you?”

At the center of the clearing, two tattered figures chased one another - a youth no older than fifteen and a middle-aged man. A third man lay convulsing on the ground, black smoke streaming out of his mouth while he screamed.

With a sharp clang, the blades of two short hunting swords collided as the middle-aged man swung heavily against his young companion. Managing barely to block the attack, the youth staggered back, his every move showing signs of extreme pain. From a shallow gash in his neck, droplets of blood rolled down his dark skin, accompanied by wisps of black smoke that streamed from the wound.

“H-Hall…” The youth coughed and swayed, the tip of his weapon pointing shakily at the approaching enemy. “Wake up… Damn! Hall, it’s me!”

With a low grunt, the one named Hall wobbled forward, his sword slowly going up in a striking position.

“Mas… ter…” Black foam appeared at the corner of the man’s mouth and his glassy eyes fixated on his victim. “Please… Kill!”

The last word came out as a blood-chilling howl. The body of the man quaked and he lurched forward, his previous tardiness replaced by a near-inhuman speed. His hunting sword swung, and slashed, and stabbed, over and over again. But every time, a sharp clang announced its target evading death.

Streams of sweat poured down the youth’s forehead, dripping in his eyes, mixing with his tears, and clouding his vision. Jagged breaths escaped his cracked lips. His arms bent under the ceaseless onslaught and his knees shook. Every swing was a labor. Every dodge was an excruciating agony. Stumbling and slipping in the snowy mud, tripping over the bodies of his loyal hunting dogs, the youth was pressed back. More and more cuts appeared on his body, each one exuding treads of black mist. And yet, his defense still kept death at bay.

Suddenly, something clamped the youth’s ankle in the iron grip of a bear trap. Throwing down a frantic glance, the boy saw his second companion clinging to his leg. The man’s arms and face were covered in patches of black. Dark spittle came out of his mouth as he sobbed:

“Lord… Noah… sorry…”

“Loràn!” The youth tried to struggle free but the fingers convulsively gripping his ankle didn’t budge.

A silver streak cut through the night as Hall’s blade fell toward its helpless target.

A drawn scream filled the frozen air.

Blood gushed on the ground, sizzling and letting out ominous fumes.

Noah rolled away as mud, blood, and tears smeared on his face. Through blurring eyes, he saw the distorted figures of his two retainers. Hall’s blade had struck down at the spot where Noah had stood but a second ago, piercing through Loràn’s neck. Blood oozed along the thin blade and mixed with the puddle of red forming around Loràn’s mangled arm. A persistent pressure on Noah’s ankle forced him to look down, and his youthful face shriveled. The severed hand of his aide still clung to his booth in a death grip.

“Sorry… Loràn… I’m… sorry…” whispered Noah hoarsely before violent coughs shook his frame.

Distracted and weakened by the magic ravaging his body, he almost missed the sword aimed at his head. The hilt flew out of Noah’s hand, his weak parry being no match to his adversary’s strength. Separated from his weapon, the youth was forced to roll in the muck to evade the next strike. But with every dodge, his speed and precision waned. The end was drawing near.

Cornering Noah at one of the dead horses’ bodies, Hall lifted the sword over his head. Just before he struck down, a handful of mud shot into his eyes. Swaying and howling, the fiend was distracted just long enough.

A roar left Noah’s lips as he thrust the boar spear he had chanced upon through his aide’s chest. In a last outburst of strength, the youth pushed with all his might, slamming his friend’s body against the nearest pine and pinning him there.

This last act of desperation drained the remnants of Noah’s strength. He slumped in the slush, his dark hair mingling with the muddy puddles. Not even a whiff of breath escaped his chapped lips.

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Silence reigned over the clearing.

“T-that… took some time,” one of the observing Binshi exclaimed shakily. “What a tough bastard.”

“Quite the thrill, indeed,” mumbled another one, secretly wiping the sweat from his brow. “But he’s finally dead.”

“Let’s make sure it is so.” A third Binshi left his place in the circle and made a sign for his brethren to follow him. “And let’s make sure those three stay dead. I don’t want to be haunted by their spirits.”

The speaker approached Noah’s body and bent down while rummaging through his belt pouch.

“A quick purification hex should suffice. They have no magighll… Ghll!”

A quiet gurgle was the only thing that escaped his lips as the foot-long dagger sank into his throat.

“Mikosh!” The Binshi standing next to him screamed, but before his friend’s body hit the ground, the dagger had already found its way into his heart.

“Careful! He’s turned into a vapir!” Another man shouted and drew a silver knife from his belt. “I’ll hold him. You all, start preparing the purification hex!”

“Hold me?” The hiss that came from Noah’s throat merged with the clang of his weapon as it collided with the Binshi’s knife. “Cowards attacking from ambush…are no match for me.”

“Y-you… you are still alive!”

“Not dying… before I take you all down with me.”

Ramming his shoulder into the shaken Binshi, Noah drove him to the ground. Using the split second when the fall knocked out his opponent's air, he stabbed the dagger deep into the man’s gut and twisted. The Binshi’s dying howl echoed through the woods, but the youth had no moment to spare. Rolling to the side, he grabbed the sword he’d just recently dropped, and sliced at the knees of a man that was about to stab him while parrying the strike of a white-haired woman with his bloodied dagger.

“FIEND!” screamed the woman, her shout being drowned by her legless companion’s cries. “How dare you…?”

Before she could finish, the hunting sword pierced her abdomen.

“Without your magic tricks… you are a bunch of weaklings.” Noah heaved and swayed, the black smoke oozing from his wounds forming a cloak of darkness around him. “Compared to Hall… you are trash!”

A silver knife shot past him, missing his head by a hair.

Noah twisted his neck, staring at the last two Binshi, who stood a safe distance away from him - a man and a young woman. The man stood straight with his eyes closed and arms stretched before him. His lips moved fast in an indiscernible chant. The woman stood next to him, two more knives ready in her hands.

Noah’s lips curved up in a vicious smile.

“You got me once. But no more. Two can play this game.”

Before he even finished the sentence, the dagger shot from his hand, aiming for the chanting man. This forced the woman to move in the way and deflect the clumsily thrown weapon. But it was enough.

Bolting forward, Noah used the momentary distraction and sliced the woman from heap to shoulder.

“Y-you beast!” Her wheezing words were soon drowned by the gurgle of blood.

Swaying heavily from overswinging his weapon, Noah used his sword as a crutch to stabilize himself. His eyes pierced the last Binshi, who had stopped chanting and now looked petrified at the youth standing before him.

“W-what m-monster are you?” he stuttered, backing a few paces. “You were ghost-touched. You should’ve ended like those two. You should be dead by now!”

“I don’t like… dying on command…” gasped Noah and dragged his feet forward.

“S-stay away!” The Binshi shouted and scurried back. “You fiend! You monster!”

Tripping over his feet, the man fled towards the bushes and disappeared from sight. Noah looked after him for some time before crumbling to the ground. As broken breaths and coughs tore through his body, he clung to his sword, refusing to surrender to the magic eating him from the inside.

The bushes rustled again, prompting Noah to force his gaze up.

“You’ve returned… with a friend,” he muttered with difficulty, managing to struggle to one knee.

“You are mistaken, little lord. I am not your enemy.” Yanosh’s tranquil voice rang over the clearing. “And neither is my companion.”

“You are Binshi.”

“We are.”

With a dry laugh, Noah climbed to his feet.

“Have you come to gloat? Or are you going to finish me off… and take the credit? Well, it’s all the same to me…”

Mid-sentence, Noah jumped to Yanosh’s left, brandishing his sword. But before the blade reached its target, it was promptly deflected by a white bone spear. Making his body rotate to gain more momentum, Noah struck again. And again, his attack was blocked.

“The… lady next to you… is much better than that other trash.” He gave the two a weak grin. “You might be able… to stall long enough… for your friend to spread the news… and bring reinforcements.”

“He isn’t our friend. And he won’t be spreading anything but rumors about the birth of a monstrous beast.” Yanosh carefully approached him, his face full of worry. “But we don’t have much time. Your condition is critical. You’ll die if I don’t purify you soon.”

“Nice try.” Noah swung at him, only to be intercepted by Orhana’s spear. “But I ain’t so stupid… If you want to use… the Duke of Norden’s body as your puppet… you’ll have to work… harder.”

“You insufferable kudash!” Orhana spoke for the first time, irritation and bemusement mixing in her voice. “Stop wasting time and get yourself treated already.”

“Sorry… I usually… can’t deny a beautiful lady a wish,… but now... is an exception.” Noah straightened his back with difficulty, his gray eyes burning with the madness of despair. “If you need me, come!”

“Make it quick, Hana.” Yanosh sighed and stepped back. “Don’t hurt him more.”

“Can’t you put him to sleep?”

“No. You should face him.”

“Damn you and your visions!”

Without further delay, the bone spear’s shaft swung towards Noah’s head. He dove down, dodging it and, keeping his stance low, attacked the woman’s open stomach. Just before making contact, Orhana swiftly twisted her body to the side and aimed her elbow at the back of Noah’s head. Her blow missed its target, connecting with his shoulder instead, sending the youth rolling on the ground with a scream.

“I told you not to harm him!”

“And I thought you preferred your betrothed alive instead of gutted!” snapped Orhana back but didn’t have time for further conversation, as Noah was already hacking at her thighs.

Bone and steel crashed, again and again, both wielders using their weapons and training to their full extent. Alas, as masterfully as Noah wielded his blade, the curse in his body burnt away both his strength and spirit. He soon found himself sprawled in the mud with the shaft of Orhana’s spear inches away from his chin.

“Enough!” Panting heavily, she loomed over him. “Give up and let us help you.”

“You win… lady.” Noah could hardly get any breath. “But you… won’t get me alive.”

Saying that, he grabbed the end of the spear, lifted his sword, and aimed it at his stomach. His eyes suddenly rounded.

“HANA!” Yanosh’s shout was a moment too late.

Noah threw the blade away and grabbed the shaft with both hands, pulling and twisting it with the last remnants of his strength. The sudden tug disrupted Orhana’s balance, sending her toppling to the side. A split second later, a muddied sword pierced Noah’s leg, forcing a howl from his throat. Had he been a moment slower, the same sword would have wedged itself in the woman’s back.

Through pain and tears, Noah saw Loràn’s lifeless body towering over him - blood no longer dripping from his severed right hand, his left one grabbing the hilt of the sword. His aide’s face was pale white, contrasting with the blotches of darkness crawling over the skin. His eyes too looked like two bottomless wells of madness and hunger.

“Chortek te zemat, vapir!” screamed Orhana and flung her spear at the reanimated corpse only for it to jump good several paces away.

Instead of pursuing it, the woman laid her weapon down and pulled off her scarf to use as a bandage for Noah’s wound.

“Why the hell did you save me?” she exclaimed while tying the knot and stemming the bleeding.

“I wonder…” Noah replied weakly and pointed with a shaky hand. “But mainly… no one deserves… to die by those things.”

Following his finger, Orhana saw a second shadow crawling toward Loràn. This one had a gaping hole in its chest the size of a boar spear shaft.

“Run…” whispered Noah, pushing the woman’s hands away.

“No need.” There was tenderness and pride in Orhana’s voice.

As she said that, her companion leisurely stepped between them and the two revenants.

“Have you seen enough to make up your mind?” she asked, staring at Yanosh’s back.

“I have.”

“You know, you’ll pay for using me to test him.”

“I will.”

“Will you obliterate those things already?”

“Yes.”

With that said, Yanosh’s entire body burst into blinding light. Impeccable whiteness engulfed the clearing. It was brighter than the moon. Brighter than the sun. Brighter than any star sparkling in the night sky. And as the world disappeared in the sea of whiteness, silence reigned supreme.

In this otherworldly calm, Noah could hear the music of his life. Every breath he took was a stormy gale. Every beat of his heart was thunder. The blood flowing through his veins was like a torrential river. With an almost inaudible hiss, the dark mist climbing up from his wounds slowly disappeared.

“It’s so warm,” he whispered, struggling to remain conscious. “I never knew death was so peaceful.”

“What do you mean death?” Orhana’s voice echoed in his ears and her face appeared from the receding light. “Oi, Yani, come quickly! I think something’s wrong with him.”

An ephemeral figure entered Noah’s field of vision. As if the whole waning light had concentrated into the man's body, seeping through his skin and forming a halo around him.

“Are you… one of the Fathers’ Angels?” asked Noah weakly as resignation smoothed his features.

“If this was what you call Afterlife, I’d be more of a demon.” Yanosh’s melodious voice carried a sliver of sadness. “But unfortunately for you, you are still alive.”

“Are you going to make me your puppet?”

“Worse. I’m going to place the weight of our future on your shoulders. But for now, sleep and gather your strength, Young Beast.”