Winter came early to Grey Hollow.
Cold wind swept through the narrow streets, carrying dust and dry leaves across the frozen ground. Thin smoke drifted from the chimneys of small wooden houses, but it did little to warm the village.
Food was scarce.
Work was harder.
Life was unforgiving.
Inside the small storage house at the edge of the village, the knight sat quietly beside the bed.
A small fire burned weakly in the stone hearth, its flickering light barely pushing back the cold.
In his arms rested the child.
Arin.
Weeks had passed since they arrived in Grey Hollow.
Weeks of hiding.
Weeks of silence.
Weeks of survival.
The knight looked down at the boy.
Arin had grown slightly stronger.
His tiny hands moved more often.
His eyes followed movement carefully.
Always watching.
Always observing.
But one thing had not changed.
The absence of mana.
The knight had checked many times.
Carefully.
Secretly.
Each time, the result was the same.
Nothing.
No energy.
No magic.
No power.
A soft knock echoed against the wooden door.
The knight's hand moved instantly to the hilt of his sword.
His body tensed.
Alert.
Ready.
"Relax," a familiar voice called from outside.
"It's only me."
The knight slowly opened the door.
The elderly woman from the village stood there, holding a small cloth bundle.
Her breath formed white clouds in the freezing air.
"You and the boy need to eat," she said bluntly.
The knight hesitated.
Pride flickered briefly in his chest.
But hunger was stronger.
"Thank you," he replied quietly.
She stepped inside without waiting for permission and placed the bundle on the wooden table.
Inside were simple supplies.
A loaf of bread.
A small piece of dried meat.
A handful of vegetables.
Not much.
But enough to survive another day.
The knight bowed his head respectfully.
"You have already given us more than we deserve."
The woman waved her hand dismissively.
"Nonsense," she said.
"No child should go hungry."
Her gaze shifted toward Arin.
The boy stared back at her calmly.
Silent.
Curious.
She studied him for a long moment.
Then spoke softly.
"There is something strange about this child."
The knight's heart skipped.
His grip tightened slightly.
"What do you mean?" he asked carefully.
The woman frowned.
"I cannot explain it," she said.
"But he watches the world like an old man."
Silence filled the room.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
The knight forced a small smile.
"He is just observant," he replied.
The woman did not look convinced.
But she said nothing more.
Instead, she turned toward the door.
"Winter will be harsh this year," she warned.
"You must prepare."
Then she left.
The door closed behind her with a soft creak.
The room grew quiet again.
The knight sat down slowly.
His gaze drifted toward the small pile of food on the table.
Then toward the child.
Guilt crept into his heart.
He had once commanded soldiers.
Protected kings.
Led battles.
Now—
He struggled to feed a baby.
The wind howled outside.
Cold.
Relentless.
Unforgiving.
Later that night—
The fire burned low.
The room grew colder.
The knight wrapped Arin tightly in blankets, trying to keep him warm.
Suddenly—
A faint sound echoed from the child.
Not crying.
Not laughter.
A soft movement.
The knight leaned closer.
Concern filled his expression.
Arin's small body trembled slightly.
His breathing quickened.
Fear gripped the knight instantly.
"Are you cold?" he whispered.
He reached forward, touching the boy's forehead gently.
Warm.
Too warm.
The knight's eyes widened.
Panic surged through his chest.
"Fever," he muttered.
The fire was weak.
The supplies were low.
The village healer lived far away.
And the winter night had only just begun.
The knight stood quickly, wrapping the child securely in cloth.
His heart pounded violently.
Every second mattered.
Outside—
The wind roared through the dark village streets.
Snow began to fall.
Heavy.
Silent.
Unstoppable.
The knight stepped into the freezing night, holding the child tightly against his chest.
Fear burned inside him.
Not fear of enemies.
Not fear of battle.
Fear of losing the one life he had sworn to protect.
Far away—
Deep inside a hidden fortress of black stone—
A hooded messenger knelt before a circle of shadowed figures.
His voice trembled slightly as he spoke.
"We have found traces of the child."
The chamber fell silent.
Cold.
Deadly.
Then one of the figures leaned forward.
His voice was calm.
Sharp.
Certain.
"Send hunters to the northern villages."
Snow continued to fall over Grey Hollow.
Quiet.
Beautiful.
Dangerous.
And the hunt had begun.