The village felt... wrong that morning.
It wasn't the air—calm and warm, thick with the scent of fresh-baked bread and the earthy tang of wet grass. No, it was something subtler. The birds were too quiet, the wind too still, and the trees—those towering giants that had always stood so firmly, as if unshaken by time—seemed to bend slightly inward, like they were holding their breath.
I couldn't explain it, but a deep, gnawing feeling settled in my chest. It had nothing to do with the warmth of the day or the lazy hum of life in Brumehill. It was something older, darker—a warning that echoed through my bones.
I didn't voice my discomfort to anyone. Not to Tomas, who greeted me with his usual gruff but good-natured smile. Not to Lena, who tugged at my sleeve with that infectious energy she always had.
Instead, I buried it inside, just as I had buried so many other thoughts since I first came to this village. It wasn't mine to question. After all, I had no past to anchor me to anything, no memories to guide me but fleeting flashes of dreams—of storms and shadows.
But the unease lingered, like a stone lodged deep within my mind.
I had just finished helping Tomas repair the wooden beam in his barn when the first scream rang out.
It was piercing—so loud that it seemed to slice through the air itself. It tore through the village like a knife and froze everything in place, as if the very earth had stopped turning. The children in the yard froze mid-play, their laughter dying on their lips. The elders looked up in alarm, and even the dogs stopped barking, their ears pricked, their bodies stiff.
I was already running before I knew it, my feet pounding against the dirt path toward the forest's edge. The scream had come from that direction—the sound unmistakable. A cry of terror that rattled the air, sending my heart racing, my muscles tensing as if every instinct in me screamed to move, to act.
Lena.
She was always the curious one, the one who wandered too far from the village. She had always followed me, asking questions I didn't have answers to. She had always called me her guardian angel—though I didn't know why, or if I even deserved such a title. But now, that same name echoed in my mind, unbidden.
As I tore through the underbrush, the quiet stillness of the woods seemed to thicken, the shadows darker than they should have been. My breath came in ragged bursts as I pushed through the dense trees, the branches scratching against my skin like claws, but I didn't care. There was only one thing on my mind.
Lena.
I broke through the final row of trees, my eyes searching the clearing before me, and there she was. The sight of her made my blood freeze.
She was on the ground, her small body trembling violently. Her clothes were torn, her face pale and streaked with dirt and tears. But it wasn't the sight of her that struck me to my core—it was what stood over her. The demon.
It was towering, hunched like some grotesque shadow of death. Its skin was an oily black, slick like tar, with veins of sickly green running beneath the surface, pulsing with malevolent energy. The creature's eyes—if they could even be called eyes—were like smoldering coals, glowing with an unnatural light that burned with malice.
It had two massive horns twisting from its skull, jagged and sharp, curving toward the sky like a twisted crown. Its hands were claws, long and curved, and its breath came out in hot, foul bursts. I could see the gnarled, twisted wings folded behind it—wings that seemed to absorb the very light around them.
For a moment, I could only stand there, rooted to the spot by a fear that gripped my chest. I didn't know how, but I knew what this creature was.
A demon. A true demon.
My mind raced. I had heard stories of them from the villagers, ancient legends whispered in quiet voices. But they were just that—stories. My heart thudded in my chest as I realized that stories didn't matter now. There was only one thing left to do.
I lunged forward.
It was instinct. Pure, unrefined, raw.
I didn't think—I just acted. My hand reached for the earth beneath me, and with it, a pulse of energy surged through my body. The ground shook under my feet. Stones lifted from the earth like they were weightless, trembling in the air before they shot toward the demon. It turned, its wings unfurling with a harsh snap, and tried to dodge—but not fast enough.
The stone shattered its shoulder with a sickening crack. The creature howled, a sound that rattled the trees, but before it could retaliate, I was already upon it.
I moved without thought—grabbing Lena and pulling her toward me, shielding her with my body as the demon swung its clawed hand. But it didn't reach us.
The earth beneath it cracked open, and a wall of stone erupted, slamming into the demon and pushing it back, forcing it to stumble.
I could feel it then—whatever power was inside me, swelling and gathering like a storm.
My hands reached out. The ground beneath the demon trembled violently as if the earth itself were alive—writhing beneath it. With a single, desperate motion, I willed the earth to swallow the creature whole.
It shrieked in pain, its body contorting as the stone rose higher, closing in on it. But just as it seemed ready to be consumed by the earth itself, the demon's wings flared and it broke free, screeching in fury.
The battle between us was quick, savage. The demon slashed and clawed, and I fought back with whatever power I could summon from the depths of the earth. But it wasn't enough.
I wasn't strong enough yet.
Finally, with one last desperate blow, I slammed the earth around the creature, trapping it beneath a thick layer of stone. It fought and screeched, but eventually, it was silent. The ground beneath us settled, the tension in the air dissipating, leaving only the echo of my hea
vy breaths and Lena's quiet sobs.
She was safe.
But I wasn't.