The people of the small village gathered around a campfire, seated on rough logs arranged in a wide circle. Orange flames crackled and spat into the night air, sparks drifting upward toward the stars. The upper half of the deer was suspended over the fire on a spit of green wood, its surface slowly browning and crackling as fat dripped into the flames with a sharp hiss.
When it was fully cooked, they set it aside on a flat stone and began roasting the lower half.
The smell of cooked meat drifted through the village, rich and mouthwatering — a scent that made stomachs tighten with hunger.
A man stepped forward with a worn knife. Kneeling beside the cooked meat, he carefully shaved off a thin strip and handed it to a little girl whose hollow eyes and trembling hands betrayed how long she had been starving.
He repeated the process, carving small portions and distributing them one by one to the villagers. No one pushed. No one complained. They waited in silence, grateful for even the smallest piece.
While the villagers ate, Euri and Helios were nowhere to be seen.
They did not sit with the others.
They did not eat.
Instead, the two walked through the open grasslands just beyond the village boundary. The moon hung full and brilliant above them, unchallenged by clouds. Silver light poured across the field, illuminating the endless waves of grass and casting long shadows at their feet.
The night air was cool and still.
"Isn't nature beautiful, Helios?" Euri asked softly.
Helios's black eyes shifted toward him. Euri walked with his gaze fixed ahead, his expression peaceful.
Helios absentmindedly ran his fingers through his short black hair before answering, "I guess…"
"My mother always used to tell me this tale that was passed down for generations. Want to hear it?" Euri asked, glancing over.
Helios sighed. "Sure, why not."
Euri chuckled at the sigh and looked past Helios toward the distant silhouettes rising along the horizon — massive towers overtaken by vines, moss, and algae, their skeletal frames swallowed by nature.
"Those great towers of nature we see on the outskirts of the village were called skyscrapers," Euri said. "Apparently, they were all over the world. People would go to these skyscrapers daily to work."
Helios smiled faintly and extended his right hand. His skin was pale, almost colorless, as though the sun rarely touched him. He rested his hand on Euri's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.
Euri turned and met his eyes.
"Helios?"
Helios chuckled and gave him a small smile. "I have no idea why I thought you were going to tell me a different story. Is that the only story your mother ever told you?"
Euri chuckled lightly. "No, that's just the one she told me most often. But I find it fascinating how these towers of nature used to be buildings made of concrete and steel where people went to work." He resumed walking, Helios's hand slipping from his shoulder. "I can't help repeating myself."
Helios followed, glancing toward the remains of a distant skyscraper, its skeletal structure jutting from the earth like the ribs of a long-dead titan.
"I guess that is pretty fascinating."
"I'm glad you think so as well."
Behind him, Helios shook his head softly. "I'm only saying that to make you feel better about telling me this stupid story over and over again."
"Wow, so straightforward, Helios. Couldn't you have let that lie go untold a bit longer?"
Helios shook his head again. "No, lying is bad. The only time it's okay to lie is when you reveal it's a lie a second later."
"You're only saying that because it's what you just did," Euri chuckled.
"To may be or not," Helios replied.
Euri turned around, walking backward as his golden eyes locked onto Helios's. "What does that mean?"
Helios shrugged. "No idea. I'm just talking to talk."
They both laughed softly.
Euri turned forward again, gazing into the vast field stretching endlessly ahead. In the distance, the skeletal towers rose like mountains, their shadows slicing through the moonlit haze.
"What do you think lies beyond the towers?" Euri asked, his eyes fixed on them.
Helios squinted toward the distant silhouettes, lowering his thin black eyebrows. "No idea…"
"Do you think maybe there are civilizations? Advanced ones like the ones our parents told us about?"
Helios raised an eyebrow. "Our parents? I'm not sure about you, but my parents never told me any stories about advanced civilizations."
"That's a shame. My mother used to tell me about flying pieces of metal that transported people across the world. Pieces of metal that floated in water and moved faster than any horse. Giant snakes made of steel that carried hundreds of people across long distances."
"How long have these stories been passed on?" Helios asked.
"Thousands of years…"
"How can a tale that old be trusted, Euri? Over thousands of years, things must have been changed, lost, or completely made up."
Euri thought for a moment. "You're probably correct… but it's still amazing to believe in such things, even if there's a chance all of it is made up."
He paused before asking, "If you could travel to any time period, what would you pick?"
"The future. I want to see how humans change and alter the land around them," Helios answered without hesitation.
"I see…" Euri said, then paused. "Are you going to ask me what time period I would travel to?"
Helios chuckled. "I don't need to. I already know your answer."
"Do you now? Tell me — what do you think my answer would be?"
"A thousand years ago."
Euri chuckled softly and looked up at the moonlit sky. "Am I that easy to read?"
"You are."
They suddenly stopped.
A sound broke the stillness.
Footsteps.
Heavy footsteps.
The ground trembled faintly beneath them.
From the distant forest, something began to emerge.
Branches snapped like brittle bones. Trees shuddered and bent aside.
Something enormous moved through the darkness — towering, colossal — nearly as tall as the skeletal towers in the distance.
A massive humanoid figure stepped into the moonlight, rising above the treeline. Its body was grotesquely muscular, skin pale and rough like weathered stone. Four jagged teeth jutted from its mouth, each nearly the length of a human arm. It wore nothing but a tattered strip of cloth around its waist.
But its most horrifying feature was its face.
One eye.
A single, enormous eye stared from the center of its forehead, reflecting the cold light of the moon.
Euri and Helios stepped back, eyes widening.
In a shaken voice, Euri whispered,
"A cyclops?!"