Night had long swallowed the village by the time Kael slipped into the dim warmth of Mera's hut. The small fire had died down to embers, but it was enough to cast shadows on the low walls. His mat, frayed and worn from years of use, waited quietly in the corner. He did not light another flame. Silence was a better cloak than darkness.
He lay down, the weight of the day settling into his bones. The silence was disturbed only by the soft creak of Mera's door across the room. She had waited.
---
Morning light pushed gently through the gaps in the wooden walls. Mera was already moving about, stirring a pot of broth. Her eyes narrowed as she glanced Kael's way. "You came in late."
Kael stretched slowly, pretending to wake. "I did."
"And where were you?"
He met her gaze with calm certainty. "I was learning."
Mera's brows knit together. She said nothing for a moment. Then, with a sigh, she turned back to the pot. It was the same question she had asked the night before. The same answer he had given. But something about it tasted different in daylight.
Kael, now fourteen, kept his face still. He knew she wouldn't push further—not yet. But there was doubt behind her silence. Doubt, and fear.
---
That night, Kael dreamed.
He stood beneath a dying tree, black and leafless against a red sky. Beneath his feet, the ground pulsed—as if alive. In the distance, a voice called out, not in words but in raw feeling. Hunger. Loneliness. Power unclaimed.
The wind turned bitter. The sky cracked like glass. And from the base of the tree, something stirred.
Kael awoke cold, breath sharp in his lungs.
---
The next morning, Kael ventured deeper into the old grove near the eastern path—a place most avoided. There, nestled against twisted roots and moss-covered stones, was the body.
The boy was no older than twelve. His skin pale, hair white like sun-bleached bone. His eyes were closed, but Kael knew they had once burned silver. A mark of hybrid descent.
He touched the boy's neck.
Still warm.
The hybrid's chest shuddered, weak and shallow.
Alive.
Kael pulled the boy into his arms, eyes darting. Someone had abandoned him—a failed experiment. Likely a castaway from the Crimson Coil.
As he began to carry the child back, the boy stirred. His lips moved. "Why... did you... come back?"
Kael paused. "What?"
"You weren't... supposed to return..."
The boy convulsed violently. Blood spilled from his mouth. Kael dropped to his knees, holding him tighter.
"Hey! Stay with me!"
But the boy's eyes fluttered open just once, revealing the silver gleam within—and then dulled.
His last breath shivered against Kael's chest.
Kael sat there, unmoving, the weight of the boy in his arms. This was not just death. This was cruelty.
A part of him—something dark and ancient—stirred.
He did not bury the boy. Instead, he whispered, "I'll make them pay."
And for the first time since discovering the truth of his ability, Kael devoured.
The boy's light vanished without resistance.
Kael rose, something new burning behind his eyes.
---
When Kael returned to the village, Mera was waiting.
"You've changed," she said.
He didn't answer.
She stepped forward, face pale. "Where have you been, Kael? Truly?"
He stared at her. "I told you. I was learning."
She reached out to touch his shoulder, but he pulled away. The look in her eyes mirrored something he had seen in the hybrid boy's final moments.
"You're not just a boy anymore," she whispered.
Kael turned away. "No. I'm not."