(Writing perspective change from eran to protagonist) (protagonist name: vitrit)
Hours ago, I was laughing with my father, tossing stones by the river, the water glinting gold in the late sun. The air smelled of damp earth and freedom, and I thought nothing could touch us. Father's broad shoulders blocked the world, his grin wide as he flicked a pebble that skipped five times—better than my measly three. Mother sat nearby, braiding grass into little rings, humming soft and low.
Then the demons came. They tore through the silence like a storm breaking, claws gleaming black as they lunged from the trees. I thought it was nothing—Father's strength was unshakable, his axe a silver blur in the chaos—but the fight turned brutal fast.
Their shrieks pierced my ears, sharp as knives, and the air thickened with sulfur and blood. One by one, the demons fell, their twisted bodies staining the ground, but then Father staggered, a gash blooming red across his chest. Mother screamed, throwing herself between me and a claw—I didn't even see her fall.
They crumpled together, shielding me with their last breaths, and the world went quiet except for my heartbeat pounding in my skull.I collapsed before their bodies, sobs choking me, my hands digging into the cold, wet dirt. Their blood seeped into my fingers, warm at first, then sticky and wrong. A demon's roar snapped me back—its jagged fangs glinted, aimed straight for my throat. I froze, helpless, my legs jelly, certain I'd die too. Its claws slashed down, close enough to graze my cheek, and then it happened—a mark on my neck flared hot, scorching, alive. Power surged through me, wild and fearless, like a fire I'd never known was there.
My hand twisted, folding into a blade of shimmering paper, thin but sharp as glass. I struck—faster than light, a blur of rage cutting the air. The demon's snarl choked off as my blade sliced through its neck; it crumpled, lifeless, at my feet, black blood pooling around my shoes. I dropped to my knees, chest heaving, vision flickering like a dying candle.
A towering six-foot figure strode toward me through the haze—broad shoulders, steady steps. I tried to stand, to fight, but darkness swallowed me whole.
When I opened my eyes, a dim room greeted me, a lone candle flickering in the corner, casting jagged shadows on the stone walls. My head throbbed, and my neck ached where the mark still tingled, faint but there. Fear barely touched me—what happened hours ago was a nightmare far worse than this. I wondered if demons had caged me here, my heart thudding as I scanned the gloom, half-expecting those claws again. The bed creaked under me, rough blankets scratching my skin, and I swung my legs over the side, testing them. They held, shaky but solid. A faint glow pulsed under the table beside me—something alive? I slid off the mattress, creeping closer, my breath shallow, and reached to snatch it. A firefly darted free, its tiny light mocking me. I cursed under my breath—stupid, harmless thing.
The door creaked open behind me—I flinched, scrambling back, and bashed my head against the table's edge with a dull thud that rattled my teeth.
The same six-foot man I'd glimpsed before stood there, chuckling at my sprawl, his deep laugh bouncing off the walls.I clenched my fists, glaring up, hating how small I felt sprawled there. "Who are you? Why'd you trap me here?" My voice came out sharper than I meant, edged with the panic still buzzing in my chest. His smile softened, and he crouched a little, meeting my eyes.
"I'm Eran," he said, voice steady despite a weary crack. I figured he was trouble, some stranger locking me up, but then he added, "I've been treating your wounds for a week." Shock hit me hard, like a punch to the gut—I'd been out that long? I had no choice but to listen, my glare softening as his words sank in. A memory sparked—Father's stories of his friend Eran, the one who'd lived with them before I was born, swinging a blade like it was part of him, laughing over campfires. My throat tightened.
"Are you my father's friend?" I asked, my voice shaking despite myself. He nodded, eyes steady and warm. "Yes." I don't know why, but tears burst out of me, loud and messy, like everything I'd held since the river broke at once. Eran crouched closer, his hand firm on my shoulder, a quiet anchor in the storm. I didn't pull away this time.Through blurry eyes, I caught shadows at the gate—someone watching, two shapes in the dusk.
"Who's that?" I choked out, wiping my face with a sleeve. Eran glanced over and called, "Come in." A girl and a boy stepped inside, hesitant, their boots scuffing the floor. He introduced them—Akriya, the boy with sharp eyes that darted over me like he was measuring, and Ryoshi, the girl with a quiet stare that didn't waver. They didn't say a word—just stared, then bolted out of the room, their footsteps echoing down the hall.
I blinked, caught off guard, my stomach twisting a little. What was their deal?A woman's voice cut through the quiet, soft but firm: "Time for your medicine." It was Offlia, the one who'd been tending me lately, her face lighting up as she stepped in, a clay cup in her hands. She set it down and wrapped me in a tight hug, her arms warm and strong, smelling faintly of herbs. "I'm so happy you're okay," she said, her voice cracking with relief. I stiffened, nerves buzzing—too much, too close after everything. Eran cleared his throat, and she let go quick, like he'd read my mind. He studied me, his eyes calm but sharp. "You feeling alright?" "Yeah, I'm fine," I mumbled, still rattled, the tears drying sticky on my cheeks. "Good," he said. "Join us for evening training, then—it'll shake off the haze, freshen you up." I didn't have a fight in me to argue, so I just nodded. "Okay."Everyone left me alone after that, and I sat waiting for evening, my gut churning with nerves.
The room felt too small, the candle's flicker too loud in the silence. I needed to get strong—I wouldn't die like my parents, powerful but not enough, their faces flashing in my head every time I blinked. In my thoughts, I swore it: I'd kill every last demon, become the strongest there ever was. No more weakness, no more losing. When the sun dipped low, painting the walls orange, Offlia stepped back in, her smile gentle.
"Come on," she said, leading me out. The training ground stretched wide outside—packed dirt ringed by trees, the air cool and sharp with pine.
The moment my foot hit the dirt, the earth rumbled—a tree shot up beneath me, roots cracking stone like thunder. I stumbled, half-falling onto a branch as it stretched higher, twisting wild and fast, leaves brushing my face. Shock locked my brain; I couldn't think, couldn't move, until it jerked to a stop, leaving me dangling right in front of Eran.
I figured he'd done it, some test, but he frowned and called out, "What're you up to, Akriya?" I twisted around—Akriya stood below, his red eyes glinting, a smirk tugging his lips. "Why the panic?" he said, voice light. "It's just a little prank." My chest heaved as I stared down at the branch, then at him.
How could a kid like me—or him—wield magic this wild? I glanced at Ryoshi nearby—her dark hair caught the fading light, and yeah, she was beautiful, calm in a way I wasn't. She stretched out her hand, her voice soft but sure. "Friends?" I grabbed it fast, nodding before I could second-guess, a tiny spark of warmth cutting through the mess in my head.
Eran stepped closer, his gaze steady. "You know any magic?" "Not much," I said, shrugging, "but my body can turn to paper." Akriya's smirk widened, like he dared me to prove it. I clenched my fist—my arm shimmered, flattening into a blade of pale paper—and slashed. The air hissed as it sliced through his tangled branches, snapping them clean off, chunks thudding to the ground. Akriya's jaw dropped, red eyes wide, and I couldn't help grinning, my heart pounding with something like pride. "Impressive," Eran said, his tone even but eyes sharp. He nodded at my neck. "That mark—how'd you get it?" "This?" I touched it, the faint scar warm under my fingers. "Born with it. Hurts sometimes, but it's normal." He grunted, "Fine," then straightened up, his shadow long in the dusk. "We've got a mission—mountain den, two months from now. Training starts serious tomorrow."