Night settled slowly over Grey Hollow.
Lantern light flickered along the narrow dirt paths, casting long shadows against the wooden houses. A cold wind drifted through the village, carrying the scent of smoke and damp earth.
Everything looked normal.
Peaceful.
Safe.
But beneath the quiet surface—
Danger was moving closer.
At the edge of the forest, the armored riders waited in silence.
Their cloaks were dark.
Their armor dull and unpolished, designed to avoid reflection in moonlight. Each man sat perfectly still atop his horse, watching the distant village below.
Patient.
Disciplined.
Deadly.
Their leader stepped forward.
A tall man with a scar running across his jaw.
His eyes were cold.
Calculating.
Experienced.
He studied the village carefully.
Every building.
Every road.
Every shadow.
Then he spoke in a low voice.
"Confirm the target."
One of the riders dismounted quickly.
He knelt beside the leader and unrolled a worn piece of parchment.
A rough sketch appeared on its surface.
The drawing showed a small boy.
Young.
Thin.
Dark-haired.
The rider pointed to the image.
"The description matches," he said.
"The child lives here."
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Certain.
The leader folded his arms slowly.
His voice remained calm.
Controlled.
"No mistakes," he said.
The other riders nodded once.
They understood the meaning.
Failure was not tolerated.
Back in the village—
Arin sat near the small fire inside the storage house.
His muscles ached from the day's training.
Every movement reminded him of the bruises forming across his arms and shoulders.
Painful.
But satisfying.
Because he had improved.
Even if only a little.
Across the room, the knight sharpened his blade slowly.
SCRAPE.
SCRAPE.
SCRAPE.
The steady sound filled the quiet space.
Rhythmic.
Focused.
Purposeful.
Arin watched silently.
Then spoke.
"Why do you always keep your sword ready?" he asked.
The knight paused.
Just for a moment.
Then he resumed sharpening.
"Because danger does not send warnings," he replied.
The words settled heavily in the air.
Arin lowered his gaze slightly.
He remembered the beast.
The fear.
The moment he thought everything would end.
A chill ran down his spine.
Outside—
A dog suddenly barked.
Sharp.
Loud.
Alarmed.
The knight's hand stopped instantly.
The blade froze mid-motion.
Silence followed.
Then—
Another bark.
Closer this time.
More frantic.
The knight stood slowly.
Every movement controlled.
Every sense alert.
He walked toward the door and opened it carefully.
Cold night air rushed inside.
The village street looked empty.
Still.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
The knight stepped outside.
His eyes scanned the darkness carefully.
Watching.
Listening.
Waiting.
At the far end of the road—
A shadow moved.
Just for a moment.
Then disappeared.
The knight's grip tightened on his sword.
Instinct whispered danger.
Behind him, Arin stepped into the doorway.
"What is it?" he asked softly.
The knight did not answer immediately.
Instead—
He knelt down slowly, bringing himself to the boy's eye level.
His expression was calm.
But serious.
"Listen carefully," he said.
Arin felt his heart begin to race.
"If anything happens tonight," the knight continued,
"you run."
The words struck like thunder.
Run.
Arin's chest tightened.
Fear spread quickly through his body.
"What about you?" he asked.
The knight held his gaze.
Steady.
Unflinching.
"I will handle the danger," he replied.
The answer sounded simple.
But Arin understood the truth behind it.
Sacrifice.
The wind shifted suddenly.
Carrying a new sound.
Footsteps.
Not one.
Not two.
Many.
The knight turned sharply toward the darkness.
His sword slid from its sheath in one smooth motion.
Steel gleamed under the moonlight.
At the edge of the village—
Figures emerged from the shadows.
One by one.
Silent.
Organized.
Unstoppable.
Armored men.
Dozens of them.
Their leader stepped forward slowly.
His boots pressed firmly into the dirt.
His voice carried across the quiet street.
Cold.
Certain.
Unforgiving.
"We have come for the child."
Silence fell over the village.
Heavy.
Terrifying.
Unavoidable.
And the night—
Had just begun.