The field lay silent.
Guria's mist had thickened again-clinging to the earth like breath held too long. A handful of villagers stood by the crystal post, their faces drawn, their voices hushed. A child had seen something the night before-shadows in the trees, eyes blinking in the dark.
No one believed him.
Not until now.
Francesca stepped forward first, her boots crunching over dried leaves and broken stone. Her hand hovered near her dagger.
"Something's wrong," she muttered. "The air feels... wrong."
Alberta said nothing.
She was already moving toward the center of the field, drawn by a faint pulse-an ache in the air that tugged at something deeper than sense. The crystal rose from the soil like a frozen flame, pale blue, its jagged surface anchored by silver runes carved into a ring of ancient stone.
It pulsed softly.
Alberta knelt beside it, her cloak brushing the moss. Her fingers, hesitant but unafraid, reached out.
The moment she touched it-
A blinding light flared from its heart.
One pulse.
Then another.
Then-resonance.
The silver runes came to life-threads of light spidering out from the stone like veins under skin. The ground beneath her shivered. The air twisted, heat and cold layered atop each other like a curse trying to wake.
"Step back!" Dantes shouted from behind.
Too late.
The mist screamed.
The crystal's glow bent the world-warping shadow and sound. A low, unnatural growl rumbled from the treeline, followed by the wet snap of bone against earth.
Then-
It emerged.
A creature dragged itself from the fog-shaped like a wolf, but stretched and ruined. Its limbs were too long, bent backward at the joints. Its flesh rippled with rot, metal plates fused to its spine like armor grown from agony. And its mouth-its mouth was too wide, too human.
It screamed like a dying furnace.
The villagers fled, scattering in panic.
Francesca drew her blade, cursing. "What in Yara's name-!"
Dantes was already moving-a blur of dark leather and steel, his coat whipping around him like smoke. His sword slid free in a clean, ringing arc.
"Stay behind me," he ordered.
The beast lunged.
Dantes met it mid-air-blades clashing, teeth snapping. The force knocked him back, boots sliding through dirt. He grunted, twisting his body to absorb the impact. The creature thrashed as if the pain excited it.
Another blow. Another scream.
The Wane-born never stopped.
Then it turned its head-toward Alberta.
She didn't scream.
Didn't cry out.
But her hands trembled slightly at her sides.
The crystal beside her pulsed once more-this time violently.
Light erupted.
Not warm, not divine-but fierce, wild, like something older than flame. The monster reeled, shrieking, its body steaming as if the light peeled its skin from the soul beneath.
**And Alberta's eyes-**just for a moment-glowed faintly gold.
Dantes saw it.
And the world cracked.
A Memory Beneath the Skin
Suddenly, the field vanished.
He stood in cold, moonlit stillness.
Not now.
A memory.
He was small again. Not a soldier. Not Dantes.
Just Edmund-a child in white, clutching the edge of a silk curtain.
A woman knelt before him.
Mercedes.
Her hair still orange. Her voice the only warmth in the palace.
"You mustn't let the crystal choose for you, Edmund."
Her hands trembled as she cupped his face.
"You're not just a prince. You're someone's child. I would rather lose the throne than lose you."
A tear slipped from her eye.
She touched his chest-where the scar would one day form.
"Promise me... if the light calls you again... don't let it burn you from the inside out."
Dantes gasped. The field returned.
His knees nearly buckled. His sword shook.
The beast lunged again-screaming.
But Alberta raised her hand-not in defiance, but instinct.
The crystal's light exploded outward.
A beam of raw brilliance carved through the fog-burning through the creature's corrupted shell. The Wane-born howled one final time, thrashing in agony before it crumbled into ash and scattered on the wind.
Francesca rushed to Alberta's side, gripping her arm.
"Are you alright? What the hell was that?!"
But Dantes...
He just stared at Alberta.
Not the crystal. Not the beast.
Her.
"Mercedes..." he whispered.
Alberta blinked. "What?"
Dantes looked away. The memory was gone. The light had faded.
"Nothing," he muttered. "It's... nothing."
But Francesca saw the way he looked at her.
So did Alberta.
And neither of them believed him.