When Lyki stepped into the assembly hall, a chilling silence swallowed him whole. He didn’t even dare to breathe a greeting to Monroe, the three-thousand-year-old wizard who sat as still as a statue by the hearth. The air was thick, heavy with an unspoken dread. Every pair of eyes in the room was fixed upon the center table... at a corpse that looked more like rotted wood than a man. It was shriveled, devoid of a single drop of blood, as if the very essence of life had been siphoned away in an instant.

  “You’ve arrived?” Darius spoke, his voice a low rumble. “Stand here, at my right.”

  Lyki obeyed, but as his gaze collided with the lifeless husk, his heart skipped a beat. All the battlefield tales he had ever heard paled in comparison to this. The body was gaunt, the skin clinging to bone, and the wide, staring eyes reflected a horror beyond description. Lyki felt his breath hitch; his limbs grew heavy, anchored by a fear he had never encountered.

  “The work of the Reich Kingdom, perhaps?” Darius asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked toward Monroe.

  “I fear not...” Monroe replied, his voice raspy with age. “No sorcery known to this world produces such a result. This was not a killing by steel. This was a ‘devouring’—a soul drained until nothing but a hollow shell remained.”

  “Master Monroe!” The booming voice of Oscar, the cavalry commander, cut through the gloom. He stepped out of the shadows, his face etched with disbelief. “Have your old nursery rhymes finally clouded your mind? Demon tongues? Curses? It was likely just brigands using resin smoke to disorient the caravan. As for the state of the corpse... perhaps a new poison from the Reich that curdles the blood!”

  “A poison that drains a man dry in a heartbeat, Oscar?” Lyken countered, knitting his brows. “Look at the body. There are no signs of a struggle. Not a single blade mark.”

  “Fear makes men see the impossible!” Oscar slammed his fist onto the table. “Those demons were purged eons ago. Why would they crawl back now, just as our lands finally taste peace?”

  Monroe locked eyes with Oscar, his gaze cold and ancient. “Peace is the ultimate veil, Oscar. The moment you cease to believe in the darkness is the moment it becomes invincible.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Before the argument could escalate, two soldiers escorted a small, trembling figure into the room. It was Rin, the sole survivor. She shook like a bird with a broken wing. Monroe approached her slowly, the firelight softening the lines of his weathered face.

  “Little heart...” Monroe murmured gently. “Rest now. This hearth-fire shall keep you safe. Can you tell this old man your name, child?”

  “My name is... Rin,” she whispered, her voice breaking into sobs. “It dragged my mother away... it wasn't human! It came from the smoke, its eyes red like fresh blood! Father tried to fight it with fire, but it walked through the flames as if they were nothing but a dream! Before it vanished, I heard it speak... Gasdargur!”

  As Rin collapsed into an exhausted sleep, a heavy silence fell. “It is the Abyssal tongue of the Dark Ages,” Monroe said, his eyes dimming. “It means... The Darkness is returning.”

  Darius surveyed the room, his expression grim. “Whether it be brigands or fiends from hell, if they step into the lands of Glev and slaughter my people... they shall pay in blood!”

  After the meeting adjourned, Monroe prepared to depart at once, driven by the ill omen. He left a mysterious bracelet for Lyna before heading to the stables. Lyki chased after him, catching the old wizard just as the sun’s final rays painted his back.

  “Uncle Monroe!” Lyki called out. “Are you truly leaving? It is nearly dark.”

  Monroe paused, adjusting his saddle. He turned to the lad with a look of profound affection. “Lyki, my boy... external darkness cannot harm one who carries light within their heart. I am sorry I cannot stay to tell you more tales... but listen closely.” The wizard placed a firm hand on Lyki's shoulder. “Your eyes tell me you have grown. From this day forth, your story will no longer be a tale told by others. It is a legend you must write with your own hands.”

  “Can I... can I really do that?”

  “You can.” Monroe smiled, then spurred his horse into the encroaching night. A haunting melody drifted back on the wind:

  “The path stretches long, beyond the reach of sight... through the edges of heaven and the depths of the sea. Past the hidden shadows of the foe... I wander on, solitary yet radiant.”

  Lyki watched until the silhouette vanished. His heart swelled with a new-found resolve. He returned to find Darius sitting alone by the dying fire.

  “Tomorrow, you will join Titania’s unit,” Darius said, breaking the silence. “Your first mission is to drive out mountain bandits from the nearby village. Use this chance to prove yourself, Lyki.”

  Lyki nodded, his pulse racing. Though the image of the withered corpse still haunted him, he vowed to grow strong enough to protect his people—so that no one would ever have to face such a gruesome end again.

  Darius remained alone with the crackling embers. He whispered softly to the empty air:

  “I haven't failed you... have I, Leona?”