The fires had long since died out, but the stench of blood and ash still clung to the air. Yun stood at the edge of the ruined village, his boots crunching over the blackened earth. The wind carried a whisper—soft, almost mournful—as if the land itself was weeping.
They were too late.
Scouts from the northern watch had arrived moments before Yun, confirming the same horrific truth: the entire village of Haruna had been reduced to ruins. No survivors. No signs of mercy. Only the symbol of the Shadow Creed, etched into the smoldering stones—a crescent moon bleeding into the earth.
Yun clenched his fists. This wasn't a random raid. This was a message.
"Why Haruna?" Lin asked from behind him, her voice unusually quiet. "It was peaceful. No strategic value. Just farmers and traders."
"They wanted us to see this," Yun replied. "They wanted me to see it."
Lin glanced at him, uncertain. "You think they know who you are?"
Yun didn't answer. He knelt near a collapsed home, brushing soot off a half-burned child's toy. A wooden soldier—arm missing, one eye scorched. Something twisted in his chest. He remembered carving toys just like this, long ago, before the wars, before the walls.
A breeze stirred, lifting strands of Yun's dark hair. In the ash, a trail of footprints—small, light—leading toward the woods.
"Someone ran," he murmured.
"What?"
"Look." He pointed, already on his feet.
Without another word, they followed the trail. Yun's heart pounded. Was it a child? A witness? A survivor? As they pushed deeper into the forest, the canopy thickened, muting the light, casting everything in a greenish twilight.
Then they heard it.
Breathing. Ragged, shallow. A whimper.
Yun signaled to Lin, drawing his blade. Slowly, carefully, they approached a fallen log. Behind it, a figure trembled—covered in dirt, clothes torn, eyes wide with terror. A boy. No older than eight.
"It's okay," Yun said, crouching down and lowering his weapon. "We're not going to hurt you."
The boy recoiled, clutching something tightly in his hands—a locket.
"My name is Yun. This is Lin. We came to help."
The boy opened his mouth, but no words came. Only a faint, broken sob. Lin moved closer, offering him water from her flask.
"Can you tell us what happened?" Yun asked gently.
The boy shook his head, then nodded. His lips quivered.
"They came… in black… shadows. They… they asked for the gatekeeper…"
Yun froze.
"They said he was watching. They said… he failed."
The locket slipped from the boy's hand and opened as it hit the ground. Inside, a tiny portrait—a woman, smiling. The same woman Yun remembered from Haruna's last harvest festival. She had offered him warm bread and called him "the quiet guardian."
"She was my mother," the boy whispered.
Yun's gaze dropped. His failure wasn't abstract anymore. It had a name. A face. A family.
"I'm sorry," he said, voice low. "I'll protect you now. I swear it."
As they led the boy back toward the others, Yun didn't look back at the ruins. He didn't need to. The image was burned into him forever. The Shadow Creed had made their move, and now, it was personal.
The fires may have burned out, but war was just beginning.