Greyroot Village was quiet that morning.
Not peaceful. Just empty.
He carried a small basket. Bread. Herbs. His mother walked ahead, humming softly as she picked herbs near the forest edge.
"Don't go far," she said.
"I won't," he replied.
He always obeyed.
Other boys passed nearby, laughing, swinging wooden swords, making tiny sparks jump between their fingers. He looked down. His hands stayed empty.
He had tried. Over and over. Nothing happened.
When the Warden tested him, the crystal stayed dark.
"Talentless," the man said, already walking away.
That word stayed with him, heavy in his chest.
Then came screaming.
Not a small scream. A long, ragged, desperate scream.
Branches snapped. Something moved too fast through the mist.
"Run!" his mother shouted. She shoved him forward.
He stumbled over roots. His heart raced. He tried to call for help.
"HELP! SOMEONE HELP! PLEASE!"
The demon appeared. Black skin. Crooked horns. Eyes burning low red.
His legs froze.
His mother stepped in front of him.
"No—!" he shouted.
The demon's claw hit her. Blood sprayed across his face. Warm. Sticky. Real.
"No! MOM!" he screamed. His voice broke completely.
He tried to drag her away, screaming toward the village. "HELP! HEALER! PLEASE! SOMEONE!"
The demon stopped. It looked at him. Tilted its head. His crying. His shaking. His desperate, helpless screams.
Then it left. Not because it was afraid. Not because it wanted to hurt him. But because he was already broken.
He collapsed beside his mother. Hands shaking. Blood mixing with mud.
He tried to lift her again. Fell. Tried again. Fell. Over and over. Every time, his arms screamed. Every time, tears ran down his face, burning his eyes.
Villagers heard him finally and ran. They helped him lift her, carried her to the healer. They dug a grave. They tried to comfort him, but he barely noticed. He couldn't stop crying.
After the burial, he sat by the grave. Hands on the soil, tears streaking his dirty face. Heart pounding. Rage growing inside him.
The rage came slowly at first. Then it burned. Hot and raw.
He thought about the demon. That thing that had killed his mother. The way it had moved, the way it had smiled at him.
I will kill it.
He clenched his fists. His hands were still shaking. His whole body trembled.
He ran his fingers through his hair, pulled at it. He stomped on the ground. Yelled into the forest.
"YOU! I WILL FIND YOU! I WILL KILL YOU!"
His voice cracked, raw with grief.
He punched a tree. Bark scraped his knuckles. Blood ran down. He didn't care. Pain was nothing. Anger was everything.
He tried to think of how he could fight it. He had no weapons, no skill, no Aether. Nothing.
I will kill it anyway.
The thought repeated, over and over. His chest heaved. He wanted to throw something. Smash something. Anything.
He picked up a fallen branch and swung at the air. Imagined it cutting the demon's throat. His arms ached. He dropped the branch.
His vision blurred with tears. He sank to the ground. Pounded his fists into the dirt.
The villagers had gone home. The grave was empty now except for the small wooden marker. His mother was under it.
He felt hollow. Cold. Angry. Broken.
And beneath all that, a tiny, sharp thought whispered in his mind:
I can't protect anyone. I'm useless. But I will make that thing pay. Somehow. I will kill it.
He stood slowly. Clenched his fists. He began walking into the forest, deeper than he ever had before.
Branches tore at his clothes. Roots tripped him. Mud covered his shoes. He didn't care. He didn't notice.
Anger burned in his chest, hot and raw. His mother's face floated in his mind. Her smile. Her last words.
I will make it pay, he muttered again.
The forest got darker. Quieter. He didn't look back.
Until he saw it.
A cave. Hidden behind roots and stone. Cold air spilling from inside, brushing against his face.
He hesitated for a second. Then stepped inside.
And the darkness swallowed him.