The night had fallen over the last village in the northern lands. Smoke curled lazily from shattered chimneys, drifting like ghostly fingers into the cold sky. The wind whispered through empty streets, carrying with it the memory of laughter long dead. Peace… was only a memory. The houses stood as hollow skeletons, and the scent of ash clung to everything.
Beneath the open sky, a boy lay on the broken cobblestones, staring up at the stars that trembled above. The wind tugged at his tattered cloak, teasing him with a voice only he could hear—a whisper that wound around him like a secret meant to be kept. Sleep had abandoned him. "Why can't I ever sleep?" he muttered under his breath. "Maybe the world doesn't want me to." Only a restless awareness remained, pressing in from all sides, dark and endless.
He didn't know it yet. But something was moving in the shadows. Silent. Slender. Slipping between broken rooftops like it belonged to the night itself. Closer than the stars. Closer than any human should feel.
A low rustle broke the quiet. Edward froze. The village dogs had fled long ago, their frantic barks swallowed by the mist. "What… is that?" he whispered, gripping the wooden sword his father had left him. Small, splintered at the edges, but heavier than any sword he had ever held. "I have to… I can't—no, I won't panic."
The shadow emerged from the darkness. A fox. Its fur was as black as smoke, its eyes glimmering with strange intelligence. It padded silently across the ruins, stopping just short of Edward. His heart pounded, but not with fear—something else stirred. Curiosity. Unease. Something about the creature felt… different.
Edward exhaled slowly, lowering the sword. "It's just a fox…" he muttered. But the hair on his arms stood on end. The fox watched him a moment longer, then vanished into the night as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving only a whisper of movement and a strange sense of being observed.
By dawn, the village elder appeared, stepping from the haze like a memory himself. His eyes—sharp, calm, ancient—fell on Edward.
"You are not like the others," he said. Every word deliberate, carrying weight beyond measure. "The world will demand more from you than swords and courage… it will demand heart."
Edward didn't fully understand. "Heart? What does that even mean?" he whispered to himself. Not yet. But deep inside, something small but persistent sparked. A spark that would one day blaze into the light of kingdoms yet unclaimed. "I have to be ready… I will be ready," he promised.
And he knew, even without seeing, that tomorrow… the monsters would come again.