The sun hung low over the horizon, streaking the sky with deep hues of amber and violet. Ren crouched in the underbrush, his fingers tightening around the worn hilt of his dagger. His breath was slow, measured, his muscles coiled with tension. A boar stood just a few paces ahead, sniffing the air, unaware of the silent predator watching from the shadows.
For a moment, Ren hesitated. Not out of fear or doubt—hunting was second nature to him by now—but because of an odd, creeping relief. No one had tried to kill him today. That was always something to be thankful for.
A swift movement, a sharp strike, and the hunt was over. The boar collapsed, its last breath misting in the cooling evening air. Ren exhaled and wiped his blade clean against his sleeve. He shouldered the animal and began the trek back to the village, the weight pressing into his back like a familiar burden.
The forest around him whispered with life—rustling leaves, distant bird calls, the occasional scurry of small creatures fleeing from his path. He had grown up listening to these sounds, recognizing them, understanding them. Yet tonight, something felt different. The quiet was heavier, pressing in on him like an unseen force.
Shaking off the unease, he quickened his pace. His village was just beyond the hill, the glow of home barely visible through the thinning trees. As he stepped into the clearing, the sight before him melted away his lingering tension.
His mother stood at the hearth, stirring a pot, her long hair pinned up to keep from falling into the fire. His younger brother, barely more than a toddler, sat at the table, kicking his legs against the wooden chair, his face lighting up when he saw Ren enter.
"Big brother!" The child scrambled down and ran to him, arms outstretched.
Ren barely had time to set down the boar before his brother crashed into him, tiny arms gripping his waist. A soft chuckle escaped his lips, and he ruffled the boy's hair.
"Missed me, huh?"
"Uh-huh! Did you bring me anything?"
Ren smirked. "Other than food? No."
The boy pouted, but his mother turned, shaking her head with a knowing smile. "Dinner first, Arel. Then you can pester your brother all you want."
They sat together at the table, the warmth of the fire flickering across their faces. Ren ate slowly, savoring the quiet moment, the laughter, the ease of simply being home. It wouldn't last. It never did.
Later that night, after the meal had settled and Arel had been coaxed to sleep, Ren sat outside, staring at the sky. The stars were scattered like shards of broken glass, shimmering against the vast darkness. He had always liked the night, the way it cloaked the world in quiet, hiding its ugliness, its dangers.
The wind carried the scent of damp earth and pine, cool against his skin. He let his thoughts drift, mind wandering through fleeting memories—his mother's laughter, Arel's tiny fingers clinging to his, the silent struggles he had endured. His life had never been easy. It was a life of constant survival, of always looking over his shoulder.
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before rising to his feet. It was time for his usual patrol.
Ren moved through the village like a shadow, his steps light, his senses alert. The homes were quiet, the occasional flicker of candlelight visible through the wooden shutters. The villagers were asleep, oblivious to the threats that lurked beyond their walls.
The first sign came as a whisper on the wind. A rustle, too purposeful to be natural. The prickle of unease ran down his spine. He turned, eyes narrowing into the darkness.
A distant howl echoed through the trees, sending a shiver down his spine. It wasn't the cry of a wolf. It was something else—something wrong. He clenched his jaw, his grip tightening on his weapon.
And then the world erupted into chaos.
Screams. Fire. The acrid stench of blood and burning wood. Shadows moved between the homes, swift and merciless. Figures clad in black struck down anyone in their path. The village was drowning in terror, and Ren stood at its center, frozen.
He tried to move, tried to force his legs to act, but his body was caught between instinct and disbelief. His mother. His brother. Where were they?
Heart pounding, he tore through the flames, his vision blurring with smoke and heat. The air was thick with the scent of burning flesh, the cries of the dying ringing in his ears. His home—he had to get to his home.
He stumbled forward, barely registering the charred remains of houses collapsing around him. Then, through the haze of destruction, he saw it—his house, engulfed in fire, the roof caving in.
His breath caught. A sharp, unbearable pain lanced through his skull. A flood of images—unfamiliar yet intimately known—rushed through him, fragments of a past that didn't belong to this life.
Ren staggered, clutching his head as the memories surged. Who was he? No—who had he been?
Before he could make sense of it, a shadow loomed before him, and everything went black.
---
Ren awoke to darkness. Cold, damp air pressed against his skin, the scent of earth and iron filling his lungs. His body ached, a dull throbbing pulsing through his skull. He tried to move, but his limbs felt sluggish, heavy.
Memories clawed at the edges of his mind—the fire, the screams, his home burning. And then… something else. A rush of knowledge, of lives he had never lived, battles he had never fought, faces he had never seen.
Panic surged in his chest, but he forced himself to breathe, to think. He needed to understand what had happened. Where he was. Who had taken him.
Footsteps echoed in the darkness, slow and deliberate. A voice, low and cold, cut through the silence.
"Awake already? You're stronger than I expected."
Ren lifted his head, his eyes narrowing at the figure approaching him. He didn't know who they were, but one thing was certain.
This was only the beginning.
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