Time seemed like molasses. Eternal. Ever repeating. Ticking by without moving forward.

The silence wasn’t sudden. It creeped into the boy’s covered ears like a poisonous snake. But once it had settled in, the child felt a shiver run down his spine. He couldn’t tell how or why he perceived it like this, but all he could think of was emptiness.

Slow, the boy pulled his head out of the blanket and looked around. There was light filtering into the room through the curtain. It was a cold bluish light. In comparison to the smouldering infected lights he was used to, it appeared welcoming.

Suddenly, the light was obscured. Heavy boots scraped over stone, and an armoured hand reached through the curtain to pull it aside. Instead of the owner of the hand, something long and silvery was pushed through. To the boy, it appeared like a giant knife. That it was covered in fresh blood didn’t ease his nerves either. Yet, the child didn’t move. He just looked and stared.

The bearded man holding the sword was taller than the leader, yet he wasn’t as board despite the armour. There was some blood in his stern face as well as his chest plate, but he lacked the wild yet empty look of the leader. His gaze was inquisitive, without betraying any of his thoughts or intentions.

Upon noticing the boy, the man lowered his sword and walked towards him. The child remained where he was. If this was the death the shadow had spoken about, it didn’t seem too bad. At least it ought to be faster than what it had done to the wet-nurse.

Suddenly, the man stopped and tilted his head. The boy grabbed the blanket tighter. A mere heartbeat later, the child felt the same inquisitive whisper from earlier. But this time it was more than clear that whatever it was, it originated from the man.

“Interesting”, the stranger said and sheathed his sword after cleaning it off with his bloody coat.

He closed the distance to the boy and squatted down in front of the child. Slow, he pulled his hands out of the metal-studded leather gloves, which he stuffed into one of the leather belts holding his armour in place.

“Don’t be afraid, boy”, he said, his voice warm and low. “I won’t harm you. What’s your name?”

The child made himself smaller. Despite the calmness of the man, the boy didn’t trust him.

“Do you understand me?”, the man asked.

Reluctant, the boy nodded.

“Can you talk?”

The boy nodded once more.

“My name is Aswald, boy. What about you? Do you have a name?”

He frowned, then shook his head — he wasn’t certain what a name was supposed to be.

The man mumbled something under his breath. The boy remained distrustful but relaxed a bit.

“I’m going to take you out of here”, Aswald continued, and stood up.

The boy tensed up and almost started to flay around as the man picked him up. But after a moment, he forced himself to stop. Aswald looked at him as if he could see into the child’s mind. A moment later, he warped the boy into the cleaner parts of his coat and walked towards the curtain. Frightened of what was behind it, the boy hid his face with his hands.

“Captain Aswald!”, shouted someone as cold air blew over the boy and made him shiver.

“I am here!”, he replied and moved ahead without stopping.

The boy pulled his hands away from his face and looked around. But before he could notice anything, the bright bluish light stung his eyes. On instinct, he hid his face within Aswald’s coat.

“Captain! We’ve secured the whole complex”, said the man who had called Aswald. “Beremud and his men are currently hunting the cult members down who managed to flee.”

“Excellent”, Aswald replied. “They’ll sure those vile devil worshipers won’t continue. What about the complex? Did your men found any artefacts?”

“Beyond the usually items, we found nothing of note and what we found we destroyed. What about this child, Captain?”

“This boy will be brought back to the monastery”, Aswald answered. “The Order needs children like him.”

The boy looked through his fingers and squinted because of the bright light. The other man looked young. His dark hair was short, and his bright blue eyes spoke of doubt and distrust.

“As you wish, Captain”, he finally said and bowed.

“Unigis, you’ll take the boy, bring him to Walamēr and keep an eye on him”, Aswald continued thoughtful. “Once we took care of everything, we’ll return home.”

“Yes, Sire”, the young man replied and took the boy from the Captain’s arms. “Has the child a name?”

“Rosomil”, Aswald replied after thinking for a moment.

Unigis seemed taken aback by the name but remained silent.

“You can go now”, Aswald remarked and left with a serious yet thoughtful expression.

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The young man looked lost for a moment, then he looked at the boy. The child just did what he usually did when the leader of the cult had surveyed him: he remained motionless and continued to look into the young man’s eyes. This seemed to unsettle Unigis greatly, as he broke the eye contact almost immediately and visibly forced himself to continue holding him.

“So, you’re Rosomil?”, he asked uncertain while moving ahead. “My name is Unigis, and I’m a knight of the Order of the Crimson Hand. I… umm… I don’t think the Captain explained anything to you. But don’t worry about it, everything’s alright now…”

The boy barely listened to the knight. Most of his attention was drawn to the abandoned looking houses as well as the trees, shrubbery, and other plants swaying in a gentle breeze. He had never before seen those things. But he couldn’t make out much as the light was still slightly blinding him despite growing dimmer.

“Boy?”, asked, Unigis uncertain and stopped.

Startled, the boy looked at him. This visibly unnerved the young knight. Instead of saying more, he walked much faster until they were way past the buildings of the cult and reached a clearing. In it were many horses as well as a few wagons.

On one such wagon were a few dented and broken pieces of armour and weaponry. On another, the boy saw two sets of feet poking out from a bloody cover made of yellowish, rough fabric. At the food of this wagon stood an old man with a long grey beard. He held a heavy looking book in one hand and a golden cross in the other.

Unigis waited a few moments until the man acknowledged him with a nod. He returned the nod and closed the distance until they stood about a few feet in front of the wagon.

“A survivor”, remarked the old man while regarding the boy with mild curiosity.

In turn, the boy fixed his gaze on the man’s face.

“The Captain found him”, Unigis replied, still uncomfortable. “He wants him to become a member of the Order.”

“He certainly looks almost old enough for the Choosing”, the man replied and placed the cross on the book to have on hand free to touch the boy's face. “He seems unharmed.”

“I think Aswald found him in one of the huts inside the cave”, Unigis explained. “I wonder what they had planed…”

“Nothing good, I presume. Anyway, the Lord has seen to it that at least one innocent child was spared.”

“Innocent…”

“You don’t think so?”

“I… Let’s talk at a later point. The boy needs to be baptised.”

At this, the older man nodded and went to one of the other wagons. Unigis followed him and placed the boy down on the rough, weatherworn wood. Meanwhile, the old man pulled a small ornate chest from one corner of the wagon and opened it. Inside were a few separate compartments. He placed the book and the cross into the fitting holes, and pulled a canteen with a complex image carved onto it out of another.

“What’s your name, boy?”, asked the man while opening the canteen.

The child didn’t answer. He wasn’t really sure what the old man meant.

“Aswald called him… he named him Rosomil”, Unigis replied uneasy and looked towards the wagon with the dead on it.

“How typical…”, chuckled the old man and turned back to the boy. “I’m going to sprinkle some water in your head. This will not hurt you, do you understand.”

“We see about that”, remarked Unigis, distrustful.

The boy looked from the old man to Unigis and back again.

“Don’t listen to him, my boy”, the old man replied. “I’m just going to baptise you, which is something that will grand you the protection of the Lord. I promise you, no harm will come out of it. Are you ready?”

The boy nodded reluctant. A moment later, the old man nodded in return and started to speak in a language the cult had used to sing to the shadow. Startled, he backed away, much to the alarm of Unigis, who almost drew his sword on him.

“Keep your sword sheathed!”, ordered the old man, the knight.

“What if this isn’t a human child, Walamēr?”, asked Unigis and kept his hand on the grip of his sword.

“I haven’t even sprinkled a single drop of holy water on him, Unigis”, he replied. “Besides, Aswald wouldn’t have ordered to take the boy in if he were some demon or other fell creature. Considering the circumstances of this cult, I guess they used Latin to communicate with the demon. I apologise for startling you, my boy.”

At this, the child sat up and continued to stare at the old man.

“I promised to you that no harm will befall you”, Walamēr continued with a warm smile. “And I do stand by my promises. So, don’t be afraid.”

The boy nodded once more and forced himself to remain calm as the old man once more resided the rite. As he sprinkled some of the water three times on his forehead, the boy felt utterly confused but at the same all the tension inside of him unwound.

“See, it wasn’t too bad, was it, Rosomil?”, asked Walamēr and closed the canteen. “You can stay on the wagon until we’re done here. I even have a nice woollen blanket to keep you warm during the night.”

As he spoke, he placed everything back into the ornate chest and pulled the blanket out from behind it. Without hesitation, he warped it around Rosomil’s thin shoulders.

The fabric was much thicker and softer than anything Rosomil was accustomed to. Mesmerised, he ran his hand over the mud coloured fabric and huddled himself into it. Walamēr seemed pleased with himself and folded his hands inside the sleeves of his dark robe.

“See, Unigis?”, he addressed the young knight. “The child’s alright.”

“So it seems…”, he replied, thoughtful and slightly relaxed. “I’m going to fetch something to eat for the boy.”

“Don’t mind him, Rosomil, my boy”, said Walamēr once Unigis had left. “He’ll warm up eventually. Besides, once you’ve eaten, you should rest as much as you can.”

Rosomil nodded and huddled himself tighter into the blanket. Unigis returned a few moments later with some bread, cheese, and water. Despite being famished, Rosomil only ate a few bites before he couldn’t keep awake much longer.

—

“I do wonder what Aswald is thinking, taking the boy in”, said Unigis in a hushed tone.

Rosomil had woken up a few moments ago and found himself still on the wagon, which was moving this time. Despite some curiosity welling up inside him, he remained completely still without opening his eyes.

“He has his reasons”, replied Walamēr in a low voice. “Besides, it doesn’t happen that often that we take care of such a tight-nit murderous cult and manage to save at least on innocent soul. I’m happy the child’s alright.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m just as happy that we managed to get the boy out in one piece but…”

“What’s the matter, Unigis?”

“He’s too odd”, the young knight replied after gazing back at Rosomil, who had opened his eyes barely enough to make both man out in the dim twilight illuminated by the moon. “The way he stares at people talking to him… It’s unsettling. I’ve never before seen a child with such empty eyes.”

“Give him some time to get used to everything”, the older man replied. “The Lord knowns what those heretics did to him and what he was forced to witness.”

“That’s why I’m worried, Walamēr”, Unigis continued tense. “Can we be certain he… Is he even human?”

“This was your second field mission, wasn’t it?”, asked Walamēr with a sigh.

“Yes, but I don’t know what this has to do with my suspicions.”

“Aswald knows what he does, and he knows a non-human when he sees one. Just trust his judgment. Besides, the boy didn’t show any adverse reactions to the holy water or the baptism.”

“Still, the boy doesn’t appear normal.”

“Give him time. Father Gauti will assess him as well, and once that’s done we’ll see what the Grandmaster will do with him.”

Unigis didn’t continue the conversation, still, Rosomil could almost feel the tense apprehension within the knight, as if it were some physical thing, extending from him. Despite all of that and the strange future in store for him, tiredness took over his mind once more and washed away everything else.