The afternoon sun blazed over the cornfield, its golden light stretching across the swaying stalks like a vast, rippling sea. Samay, a wiry boy of 12 with dirt-streaked cheeks and calloused fingers, worked tirelessly beneath its heat. His basket was nearly full of golden cobs, but sweat dripped from his brow, stinging his eyes as he wiped it away with the back of his hand. His muscles ached, his back protesting with every bend, but he gritted his teeth and kept going. Harvesting was hard work, but it was honest labor—the kind that filled their bellies and kept them alive through the harsh winters.
A dry wind rustled through the field, carrying the scent of earth and the faint, metallic tang of distant rain. Samay paused, stretching his stiff shoulders, and glanced toward the horizon. The sky was still clear, but storm clouds gathered in the distance, dark and heavy. We need to finish before the rains come, he thought.
Just then, a familiar voice called from behind.
"Are you done, son?"
Samay turned to see his father, Eon—a broad-shouldered man in his 34, his face weathered by years of labor, his hands rough and scarred from countless seasons of toil. His dark eyes, usually warm with quiet pride, now held a flicker of impatience. He stood with his arms crossed, watching his son's progress.
"Yeah, almost. Just three to five more rows left," Samay replied, panting slightly.
Eon sighed, shaking his head. "Why are you taking so long? At your age, I was twice as fast."
Samay rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You've told me a hundred times."
His father snorted, the corner of his mouth twitching. "And I'll tell you a hundred more if it'll make you work faster."
Samay chuckled, bending back to his task. The last of the cobs were plucked quickly, his fingers moving with renewed determination. "Okay, done. Let's go—we're running out of time."
Eon nodded, hefting his own basket onto his back. "We need to hurry. Later, we've got to cook."
"I'm starving,"Samay admitted, rubbing his stomach as it let out a loud growl.
Eon smirked. "You're always starving."
Together, they started down the dusty path toward home, the weight of the harvest heavy on their backs. The village, usually alive with the chatter of neighbors and the laughter of children, was eerily still. No smoke rose from chimneys. No voices carried on the wind. Only the distant caw of a crow broke the silence.
Samay frowned. "Where is everyone?"
Eon's steps slowed, his gaze scanning the empty lanes. "Something's wrong."
When they reached their small house, Eon pushed open the creaking door, its hinges groaning in protest. Samay followed, placing the basket of corn in the storeroom before collapsing at the wooden table. He drummed his fingers impatiently as his father moved to the hearth, stirring the embers back to life.
A few moments later, Eon returned with steaming bowls of stew—thick with potatoes, carrots, and chunks of rabbit meat. The rich aroma filled the room, and Samay dug in eagerly, the warmth spreading through his tired body. They ate in comfortable silence, the only sounds the scrape of spoons and the crackling fire.
Then—
BOOM.
The ground trembled. The walls shook. A blood-curdling scream tore through the air, followed by another, and another—shrill, desperate, dying.
Samay's spoon clattered against the table. "What was that?!"
Eon stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "Samay, stay here. I'm going to see what's happening."
Before Samay could protest, his father rushed outside. Through the window, Samay saw chaos—villagers sprinting in terror, their faces twisted in fear. A woman stumbled, her dress stained red, before something unseen yanked her into the shadows. A man ran past, his arm missing, his screams raw and guttural.
Then, his father reappeared, his expression grim, his skin pale.
"Samay, you need to run. Now."
"Run? Why? What's happening?!"
Eon grabbed his shoulders, his fingers digging in painfully. "A demonic beast is attacking the village! It's slaughtering everyone in its path!"
Samay's heart pounded so hard he thought it would burst. "If I run, what about you?!"
"Don't worry about me—I'll be fine!" Eon yanked him toward the back window. "I'm going to break this. You jump out and run toward the river. Remember when I worked near the banks last week? There's a knight camp there. Find them. They're our only hope!"
Another roar shook the house, closer this time. The walls trembled as if the beast itself was breathing down their necks.
Samay's hands shook, but he clenched his fists. "I won't leave you!"
Eon's eyes hardened. "You must! Go, Samay! NOW!"
With a final shove, Eon smashed the window just as the front door exploded inward—revealing the monstrous creature.
It was a nightmare given form—a hulking mass of sinew and jagged bone, its maw dripping with blood, its eyes burning like embers in the dark. The stench of rot and iron filled the room.
Samay didn't look back. He jumped.
And he ran.
He ran until his lungs burned, until his legs threatened to give way. The river was still too far. The screams of his village chased him like vengeful spirits. His father's last command rang in his ears—"Run!"—but guilt clawed at him, a vicious beast of its own.
I left him. I left him to die.
A shadow moved between the trees.
"Why are you running, boy?"
Samay stumbled, collapsing to his knees. A man stood over him—tall, draped in a worn traveler's cloak, his gray hair streaked with silver and his blue eyes cold as winter steel.
"The—the beast," Samay gasped, his vision swimming. "My village… my father—!"
The stranger tilted his head. "Ah. Another tragedy."His voice was calm, almost bored. "You're brave… or foolish. Which is it?"
Samay's hands shook. "Please… help them!"
The man crouched, studying him like a wolf eyeing wounded prey. "What will you give me in return?"
"Anything!" Samay's voice broke. "Just save them!"
A slow smile curled the man's lips. "Then swear yourself to me. Become my disciple. Your life for theirs."
Samay didn't hesitate. "I swear it!"
The stranger stood. "Good."
Then—he was gone.
A gust of wind. A flash of light.
Somewhere in the distance, the beast howled—then silence.
Samay tried to stand. Failed. His body was shutting down, his vision tunneling.
Father. Where's Father?
With the last of his strength, he staggered back toward the village. The air reeked of blood and smoke. Houses lay in ruins, their walls shattered, their roofs caved in. Bodies littered the streets—some torn apart, others frozen in poses of terror.
But no beast.
And no Eon.
"FATHER!"Samay's voice cracked as he stumbled into their shattered home. The door hung broken. The table was overturned. The stew they'd shared spilled across the floor like congealed blood.
No sign of him.
No. No no no—
His knees hit the ground.
"You should rest, boy."
The gray-haired man stood in the doorway, wiping black ichor from a dagger. "The beast is dead. Your village is… saved. Mostly."
Samay's breath came in ragged gasps. "Where's my father?"
The stranger's expression didn't change. "Gone."
"Gone? What do you mean GONE?!"
"Vanished. Taken. Dead?"The man shrugged. "Does it matter? You made a vow."
Samay's vision blurred. The world spun.
Then—darkness.
He collapsed, unconscious before he hit the ground.
The last thing he heard was the stranger's sigh.
"Tch. Humans break so easily."