Flickering candlelight cast a warm, amber glow over the ornate vases lining the walls of the chamber. Each ceramic vessel was a unique work of art, adorned with intricate patterns and glazes that seemed to dance in the wavering light. A thick, hazy veil of smoke hung in the still air, muting the room's edges and giving it an otherworldly, ethereal quality, as if time itself had been suspended.
The chamber itself was a standalone structure, set apart from the quiet streets of Graybarrow. Its architecture spoke of reverence and solemnity - high, vaulted ceilings supported by sturdy stone columns, the only windows high above casting a soft, diffused light.
Amidst the elegant, antiqued decor sat alone figure - Rozeree. Her jet-black hair a wild tangle, framing a face streaked with tears. The ragged tunic and trousers she wore hung loosely from her sinewy frame, stained and rumpled. Her eyes were red-rimmed, gaze fixed intently on two vases. They sat as part of a small group that rested upon staggered podiums in the center of the chamber.
An intricate engraving adorned the base of these two vases that sat side by side on the same podium. The delicate script reading "Koshu and Sabrael Strumfels."
Rozeree's fingers traced the letters reverently, a trembling sigh escaping her lips as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. The oppressive silence of the chamber seemed to amplify the weight of Rozeree's grief, the flickering flames the only witnesses to her sorrow.
On the other side of Graybarrow, where the dusty streets gave way to an empty expanse, a solitary figure moved in a small, worn clearing. The earth beneath his feet was smooth and barren, a testament to countless hours of relentless training. At the center stood a weathered log, its bark long since stripped away by the fury of fists and feet.
Daglan's body glistened in the harsh sunlight, rivulets of sweat carving paths through the dust on his skin. Steam rose from his overheated form, a hazy mirage in the arid air. Each movement was a blur, his fists cleaving the air with a whistle that spoke of barely contained rage.
With every strike, a memory flashed behind his eyes. The sickening crunch of wood piercing flesh. Koshu's face, a mask of pain and determination. The log shuddered under the impact of Daglan's fist, splinters flying as his knuckles left a crimson imprint on the pale wood.
"I wasn't strong enough," he hissed through clenched teeth.
His heel lashed out, fueled by the phantom sensation of stone cracking against his skull. The log groaned, a deep fissure spreading like a hungry maw up its length. Daglan's shoe tore, exposing a foot bloodied by the relentless assault.
The desolate landscape seemed to waver in the heat as Daglan reared back, chest heaving. His eyes, usually warm and gray like river stones, now blazed with an inner fire. In that moment, he was no longer a boy, but a vessel of raw, primal emotion.
Koshu's final words echoed in his mind, a roar that still shook him to his core: "I AM KOSHU! THE WORLDBREAKER!"
His fist connected one final time, and the log surrendered. It split with a thunderous crack, collapsing in two jagged halves at Daglan's feet. He stood there, panting, his body trembling from the storm of emotions that threatened to tear him apart.
A single tear carved a path down Daglan's dirt-streaked cheek. He stared at his bloodied hands, whispering, "I will become strong enough. I have to be."
In the sudden silence, Rozeree's voice cut through the air like a whip. "Daglan?"
Daglan's head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise. "Oh, Rozeree!" He hastily wiped his face, smearing dirt and tears across his cheeks. His bloodied hands trembled as he tried to conceal them behind his back. "Not-not right now, Rozeree. I'm busy." The words tumbled out, clumsy and rushed, as he fumbled to replace the shattered log with a fresh one from the nearby pile.
Those words sliced through Rozeree like a knife, reopening old wounds. Her father's constant absences, his broken promises – they all came flooding back in a torrent of painful memories.
"You're busy?" Rozeree's voice quivered, a mix of hurt and rage. The sudden venom in her tone made Daglan flinch. "Busy, like Silvas! Busy like Dad!" Her voice rose to a shriek, raw emotion pouring out. "I hate you! I hate all of you!"
The outburst hit Daglan like a physical blow. He reeled back, confusion etched across his features. His mind raced, trying to understand what he'd done to provoke such fury. "Rozeree, I–" he started, reaching out with a bloodied hand.
But Rozeree wasn't finished. She slapped his hand away, her palm stinging from the contact. "I don't care," she snarled, her blue eyes blazing with an intensity that made Daglan take a step back. "Get out of my face." The words came out in a rush, as if she couldn't contain them any longer. "I'm leaving this place as soon as I can!"
Daglan tried once more to reach for her, to bridge the chasm that seemed to be widening between them. But the heat of Rozeree's anger was palpable, a force field of raw emotion that kept him at bay. He watched, helpless and bewildered, as his sister turned on her heel and stormed off into the distance, leaving him alone with his battered body and a whirlwind of unanswered questions.
As Rozeree's figure grew smaller on the horizon.
Daglan stood rooted to the spot, staring down at his bloody hands. Koshu. What do I do.
Rozeree's feet pounded against the hard-packed earth as she fled, each step carrying her further from the training grounds and closer to the massive wall that encircled Graybarrow. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, a mixture of exertion and barely contained sobs. The girl's wild dash finally brought her to the base of the towering barrier, its weathered surface a testament to years of protection.
Collapsing at the foot of the wall, Rozeree drew her knees to her chest, making herself as small as possible. The whistle of wind over the barren landscape was the only sound save for her muffled whimpers as she buried her face in her arms. The weight of loss, frustration, and isolation pressed down on her slender shoulders like a physical force.
A gentle touch on her arm shattered the silence. Rozeree's head snapped up, eyes wide with alarm and a hint of fear.
"Don't touch me!" she snarled, scrambling backwards. Her hand instinctively reached for a weapon that wasn't there.
The figure before her was unlike anyone she'd ever seen in Graybarrow. He stood tall and imposing, garbed in a crisp tailored suit. But it was his eyes that truly captivated Rozeree – one a deep, foreboding red, the other a calm, tranquil blue.
The stranger knelt gracefully, bringing himself to Rozeree's level. From seemingly nowhere, he produced a delicate flower, its petals a vibrant purple that seemed to glow in the dim light.
"Oh wow!" Rozeree breathed, her earlier distress momentarily forgotten. She reached out hesitantly, afraid the flower might disappear if she touched it. "A real flower! I've only seen one once, when my dad..." Her voice trailed off, the memory bittersweet. "Who are you, anyway?"
The man's mismatched eyes crinkled with a warm smile. "My name is Vilrux, and as it happens, I knew your father."
Rozeree's mouth fell open, words failing her. Vilrux's smile deepened at her reaction.
"I did indeed. Koshu, and your mother Sabrael as well." A faraway look crossed Vilrux's face as he spoke the names.
"Tell me about them!" Rozeree blurted out, her voice echoing off the alley walls. "Please, tell me what they were like!"
Vilrux raised a finger to his lips, his expression playful but cautioning. "Lower your voice, little one. I don't want everyone to know I'm here just yet. I came specifically to talk to you, after all."
A warmth bloomed in Rozeree's chest, chasing away some of the cold loneliness that had taken root there. "M-me?" she stammered. "Why?"
Vilrux leaned in conspiratorially. "Your parents were dear friends of mine. I cared for them both deeply." His voice dropped to a near whisper. "And they were both incredibly powerful. I know you have that same potential within you."
The small flame of hope in Rozeree's heart grew brighter at his words. Vilrux continued, his tone becoming more serious. "I want to take you to a place that will make you strong. And along the way, I'll share plenty of stories about your parents."
As he spoke, Vilrux reached out and touched the flower in Rozeree's hand. Before her eyes, the delicate petals shifted and transformed, the purple hue giving way to a gleaming, metallic sheen.
Rozeree gasped, nearly dropping the now-metal flower. "Wait – how did you –?" She fumbled for words, her mind reeling.
"Rozeree." The sound of her name snapped her attention back to Vilrux's face. "I'll return tomorrow, riding with the collectors. You have until then to decide. Choose wisely – this chance won't come again." With a gentle pat on her arm, Vilrux rose and turned to leave, his hand raised in a casual wave.
Rozeree scrambled to her feet, clutching the metal flower to her chest. "Wait!" she called out, rushing after him. But as she rounded a small cottage, she found only empty, barren land before her, dotted with scraggly weeds and stunted shrubs. It was as if Vilrux had vanished into thin air.
Standing alone in the shadow of the great wall, Rozeree stared at the flower in her hand. For the first time in what felt like forever, a spark of excitement flickered in her heart. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.
The sun's dying rays painted the sky in hues of orange and purple as shadows lengthened across the modest dining room. Silvas' fingers drummed nervously on the worn wooden table, her gaze darting between Daglan's eager face and Rozeree's sullen expression. The air hung heavy with unspoken tension, a stark contrast to the comforting aroma of their finished meal.
Silvas cleared her throat, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Why don't we have a fire and make some s'mores?" The words tumbled out, almost too cheerful, as if trying to dispel the cloud of gloom that had settled over them.
Daglan's face lit up, beaming with childlike excitement. "Really? Can we use the big marshmallows?" His enthusiasm was a stark counterpoint to the simmering undercurrent of emotions in the room.
Before Silvas could respond, the scrape of chair legs against the floor cut through the air. Rozeree stood abruptly, her face a mask of indifference, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. Without a word, she turned towards her room, her movements stiff and deliberate.
"Rozeree, no." Silvas' voice cracked like a whip, halting the girl in her tracks. The forced cheerfulness evaporated, replaced by a mix of frustration and desperation. "I'm tired of you walking away from us—"
Rozeree whirled around, her face contorted with a fury that seemed too large for her small frame. "Like you walked away from Dad?" The words hung in the air, sharp and poisonous.
The room fell deathly silent. Daglan's expression shifted from excitement to fear, his gaze darting between his sister and aunt.
Silvas' face drained of color, her hands clenching into white-knuckled fists at her sides. In two swift strides, she closed the distance between them, looming over Rozeree. Their gazes locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to back down.
"Enough!" Silvas' voice reverberated off the walls, causing Daglan to flinch. Her chest heaved with each breath, barely contained rage and grief etched into every line of her face. "Your father and I vowed to protect this town to our dying breaths! That is what I did and what he wanted!"
Rozeree didn't move, her defiant glare a mirror of Silvas' own intensity. The air crackled with tension as Silvas continued, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"What if the collectors had come unannounced? What if the Yokai attacked?" She leaned in closer, her words dripping with a mixture of anger and pain. "Do not speak on things you don't know about, child."
The last word hung between them, loaded with unspoken history and resentment. Daglan huddled in his chair, forgotten, as aunt and niece stood locked in their emotional standoff, the weight of loss and unresolved grief palpable in the fading light.
"Fine." Rozeree stomped past Silvas, digging through the pantry for the s'mores supplies before promptly pulling them out and waving them in the air. "Let's get this over with."
As Silvas got a small fire going, Daglan sat opposite Rozeree, watching her image flicker and shift in the firelight. She had become so distant and alien to him. As Silvas stoked the flames, so it seemed Daglan only stoked the flames of Rozeree's anger.
"So Rozeree, would you like to train with me again? We don't hang out like we used to..." Daglan tried, his voice hopeful.
"Why... it's not like we'll ever leave..." Rozeree said, staring deep into the all-consuming flames as she remembered Vilrux's words. "Might as well let the yokai get us."
"Don't say that!" Daglan shot back, his face contorting with a mixture of anger and fear.
Silvas's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. "Enough, Rozeree. You have no idea what's out there."
Rozeree's gaze met Silvas's, a challenge burning in her expression. "And whose fault is that? You keep us trapped here like prisoners."
"I keep you safe," Silvas growled, her fingers clenching around the stick she was using to stoke the fire. "The world out there... it's not what you think it is."
"How would you know?" Rozeree spat. "You never leave either. You're just as trapped as we are."
Daglan's eyes darted between Rozeree and Silvas, his hands fidgeting with his marshmallow stick. "Come on, guys. Can't we just enjoy the s'mores?"
"Shut up, Daglan," Rozeree snapped, causing him to recoil as if he'd been struck. "You're so naive. Don't you ever wonder about your real parents? About the world beyond these walls?"
The words hung in the air, sharp and painful. Daglan's face fell, the reminder of his adoption striking a raw nerve.
Silvas slammed her stick into the fire, sending sparks flying. "That's enough! Both Koshu and I sacrificed everything to keep you two safe. To keep this town safe. You dishonor their memory with this... this childish rebellion."
"Childish?" Rozeree's voice rose, crackling with emotion. "I'm not a child anymore, Silvas. I'm old enough to make my own choices."
"Old enough?" Silvas barked out a harsh laugh. "You have no idea what it means to be 'old enough'. The choices I've had to make, the things I've seen..."
"Then tell us!" Rozeree shouted, leaping to her feet. "Stop hiding behind your stupid walls and your stupid rules and just tell us the truth!"
The fire crackled in the sudden silence, casting long shadows across their faces. Daglan sat frozen, his marshmallow forgotten, slowly burning in the flames.
Silvas's face was a mask of conflicting emotions - anger, fear, and a deep, aching sadness. When she spoke again, her voice was low and tight. "The truth? The truth is that the world out there would chew you up and spit you out. It would take everything you are and leave nothing but a hollow shell. Is that what you want, Rozeree? To end up like me?"
The raw vulnerability in Silvas's voice seemed to catch Rozeree off guard. For a moment, her defiant mask slipped, revealing the scared, confused girl underneath. But just as quickly, the walls slammed back into place.
"Maybe that's exactly what I want," Rozeree said, her voice cold. "At least then I'd know who I really am."
With that, she turned and walked away from the fire, leaving Silvas and Daglan staring after her, the warmth of the flames doing nothing to thaw the ice that had settled over their little makeshift family.
The collectors' arrival cast a shadow over Graybarrow, fear palpable in the air as supplies were loaded into waiting carriages. Whispers rippled through the crowd, a tide of anxious murmurs.
Rozeree's fingers trembled as she tucked the metallic flower into her pocket, excitement warring with guilt. She turned to Daglan, who lay still in their shared room, and whispered, "I'm sorry, Daglan. For everything." The words hung heavy as she fled, leaving her adopted brother's confused reply echoing behind her.
Outside, Rozeree wove through the throng, scanning for Vilrux. She spotted Silvas standing beside Mayor Calin, her aunt's body tense like a coiled spring. Silvas's eyes widened as she noticed Rozeree.
"Rozeree!" Silvas's voice cracked like a whip as she stepped into the clearing. "What do you think you're doing?"
A collector's sword flashed, its tip hovering near Rozeree's face. In a blur of motion, Silvas appeared between them, palm pressed against the collector's chest. Her voice dripped venom. "Reconsider. Quickly."
Rozeree froze, her breath hitching. "I'm leaving," she said, her voice shaking but defiant.
"No, you're not!" Silvas and the collector chorused.
"Actually, she is." The words cut through the chaos, smooth as silk and cold as ice. Vilrux emerged from the carriage, his mismatched eyes gleaming, suit pristine as ever. He beckoned to Rozeree, who darted to his side.
"He knows things about me—about my parents—that you never told me!" Rozeree snapped. "He can make me strong!"
Silvas stepped closer, her voice softening. "Rozeree, you don't understand what you're getting into. He's dangerous."
"I dont care!" Rozeree shouted, tears streaming down her face. "I hate you! I hate all of you!"
Silvas's eyes narrowed. "Rozeree, he killed your father."
Confusion flashed across Rozeree's face. "But you said Yokai—"
"You can't hide her forever," Vilrux interjected, his tone a mixture of threat and sorrow. "She'll be safe with me."
"Safe?" Silvas spat. Rage contorted her features, her eyes darkening to inky pools. A noxious fog poured from her mouth, devouring everything it touched. The crowd scattered in terror as the ground rotted and stones melted.
Rozeree scrambled for the carriage's safety, heart thundering in her chest. From her vantage point, she watched in awe as the fight unfolded.
Vilrux moved with a grace Rozeree had never seen before, his body seeming to flow like water around Silvas's attacks. He leapt and spun, always just out of reach of the deadly mist. Rozeree recognized some of the basic stances and movements from her own training, but Vilrux elevated them to an art form.
Silvas was equally impressive, her body glowing faintly as she fought. She moved with raw power, each strike leaving trails of that terrifying black fog. Rozeree had never seen her aunt fight like this before, and it both thrilled and terrified her.
The two combatants clashed again and again, their movements too fast for Rozeree to follow completely. She caught glimpses of familiar techniques – a flowing punch sequence here, a rooted defensive stance there – but executed with a speed and precision that left her breathless.
Vilrux seemed to dance on the air itself, while Silvas drew strength from the very ground beneath her feet. They traded blows that would have felled any normal person, yet neither seemed to tire.
Rozeree's heart pounded in her chest as she watched the battle unfold, her eyes struggling to keep up with the blur of motion before her. One moment, Silvas and Vilrux were locked in their deadly dance, and the next—
It happened so fast, Rozeree almost missed it. Vilrux seemed to vanish, reappearing instantly in front of Silvas. Rozeree blinked, and in that split second, everything changed.
Vilrux moved with impossible speed, closing the distance between himself and Silvas in an instant. Rozeree's breath caught in her throat as she witnessed the brutal efficiency of his attack. One moment, Silvas stood defiant, wreathed in her deadly black fog. The next, three sharp cracks split the air.
Silvas's eyes widened in shock, the noxious fog sputtering from her mouth. She stumbled, her invincible aura shattered in an instant. Rozeree watched, oddly detached, as blood replaced the black mist pouring from her aunt's lips.
The woman who had been her jailer, her protector, her tormentor - now slumped against Vilrux, her life ebbing away with each labored breath. Vilrux leaned in close, his lips moving near Silvas's ear, but Rozeree couldn't make out the words.
Rozeree's mind felt strangely blank, a thick fog descending over her thoughts. She knew she should feel something - anger, grief, elation, horror - but there was only a vast, echoing emptiness. Her fingers found the cool metal of the flower in her pocket, its smooth surface the only thing that felt real in this surreal moment.
As Vilrux lowered Silvas to the ground, Rozeree's gaze remained fixed on her aunt's crumpled form. The pool of blood spreading around her seemed oddly small, nothing like the drenched battlefields of the yokai attacks. It looked almost... peaceful.
The acrid smell of smoke and blood hung heavy in the air, mingling with the collective gasps and murmurs of the gathered crowd. Rozeree stood motionless beside the collector's ornate carriage, her gaze fixed on the crumpled form of Silvas lying in the dirt. The once-formidable warrior now looked small, fragile—a broken doll discarded after rough play.
Vilrux's imposing figure loomed over Silvas's body, his mismatched eyes gleaming with an emotion Rozeree couldn't quite name. Triumph? Regret? It was impossible to tell. The crowd of townspeople pressed closer, a sea of wide eyes and gaping mouths, their fear and awe palpable in the tense silence.
Rozeree's mind felt oddly blank, as if a thick fog had descended, muffling her thoughts and emotions. She knew she should feel something—anger, grief, horror—but there was only a vast, echoing emptiness. Her fingers absently traced the cool metal of the flower Vilrux had given her, the smooth surface grounding her in the surreal moment.
"It's done," Vilrux's smooth voice cut through the silence, startling Rozeree from her daze. He turned to face her, his expression unreadable. "Are you ready to leave this place behind?"
Rozeree's gaze flickered between Vilrux and Silvas's body. A distant part of her mind registered Daglan's anguished cries from somewhere in the crowd, but it felt muted, as if coming from underwater. She should comfort him, shouldn't she? But her feet remained rooted to the spot.
"I..." her voice cracked, barely above a whisper. "I don't know."
Vilrux's hand came to rest on her shoulder, surprisingly gentle. "It's alright, child. Shock is a natural response. You'll understand in time that this was necessary."
Rozeree nodded mechanically, her eyes still drawn to Silvas. There was so little blood—shouldn't there be more? The stories always spoke of battlefields drenched in red, but this... this seemed almost peaceful.
The crowd's whispers grew louder, a rising tide of fear and uncertainty. Rozeree caught fragments of their words—"monster," "savior," "what now?"—but they washed over her without leaving an impression.
"We should go," Vilrux said, his tone brooking no argument. "There's nothing left for you here."
"Nothing left," Rozeree echoed internally, the words both a comfort and a curse.
As if in a dream, Rozeree allowed Vilrux to guide her towards the carriage. Each step felt leaden, her body moving of its own accord while her mind remained detached, observing from a great distance.
Just as she was about to step into the carriage, a heart-wrenching cry pierced the air. "Rozeree! Don't go!"
Daglan's voice. For a moment, the fog in Rozeree's mind cleared. She turned, catching sight of her adoptive brother's tear-streaked face in the crowd. Their eyes met, and a torrent of emotions threatened to overwhelm her—guilt, love, fear, longing.
"He's weak," she said fiercely, even as her heart ached. "I can't let him hold me back. I have to be strong."
But then Vilrux's hand was on her back, gently but firmly guiding her into the carriage. The door closed with a soft thud, muffling the sounds of the outside world. As the carriage lurched into motion, Rozeree sat rigidly, her gaze fixed ahead.
The last glimpse of Graybarrow through the carriage window showed Daglan's crumpled form kneeling beside Silvas, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Rozeree's jaw clenched, her eyes hardening.
"Weakness," she thought, forcing contempt into the word. "That's all that's left behind."
As Graybarrow receded into the distance, Rozeree squared her shoulders, willing herself to feel the exhilaration of freedom. She focused on the cool metal of the flower in her pocket, a symbol of the power and knowledge Vilrux had promised her.
"This is what I wanted," she repeated silently, her internal voice growing stronger with each iteration. "To be strong. To be free. No matter the cost."
The carriage rolled on, carrying her towards an uncertain future. Rozeree's fingers curled around the metal flower, her grip tightening until the edges bit into her skin. The pain was a reminder, a promise to herself.
"I won't look back," she vowed silently. "I won't be weak. I'll become stronger than anyone in Graybarrow could have imagined."
As the landscape changed around her, Rozeree allowed herself a small, cold smile. The world beyond Graybarrow's walls stretched out before her, full of opportunities to prove her strength. She would seize them all, no matter what it took.
The carriage lurched into motion, and for a heartbeat, Daglan stood frozen, disbelief etched across his features. Then, as if a spell had broken, he exploded into action.
"Rozeree!" he roared, his voice cracking with desperation. Without a second thought, Daglan sprinted after the rapidly retreating carriage.
His feet pounded against the hard-packed earth, each stride eating up the distance, but the horses were faster. Daglan's lungs burned, his muscles screaming in protest, but he pushed harder. He couldn't lose her. Not Rozeree. Not after Koshu, after Silvas.
"Please!" he gasped between ragged breaths. "Rozeree! Come back!"
The gap widened with each passing second. Daglan's vision blurred, whether from tears or exhaustion, he couldn't tell. His mind raced faster than his feet.
Why, Rozeree? Why are you leaving us? Leaving me?
The carriage was pulling away, becoming smaller on the horizon. Still, Daglan ran. He ran until his legs gave out, sending him sprawling into the dust. As he lay there, chest heaving, the reality of his failure crashed over him.
Slowly, painfully, Daglan pushed himself to his knees. The carriage was gone, nothing more than a speck in the distance. But as he stared down the empty road, a steely resolve hardened in his eyes.
"This isn't over," he whispered, his voice hoarse but determined. Vilrux's face flashing through his mind. "I'll find you. I'll become strong enough to kill you myself and bring Rozeree home."
With trembling legs, Daglan stood. He cast one last look at the walls of Graybarrow, before turning to the horizon. He had failed today, but he swore it would be for the last time. Whatever price he had to pay, Daglan would become the strongest – and bring his sister back.