The evening sun dipped low on the horizon, casting its warm golden glow across the open fields. Rolling pastures stretched as far as Boyd could see, bathed in hues of amber and ochre that flickered against the greenery. The sound of gravel crunching under the carriage wheels was almost rhythmic, blending with the soft murmur of birds beginning their evening songs.
Boyd and his companions had left the estate just over an hour ago, yet the day was fading fast, shadows lengthening and stretching out from every tree and rock they passed. As they neared the edge of the fields, dense woods and rocky hills started closing in, creating a feeling of solitude that replaced the farm's earlier bustling energy.
Ahead, a large stone bridge loomed, arching over a lazy river below. The bridge was old, with ivy crawling over its rough-hewn stones, its structure steadfast and imposing. Boyd leaned slightly out of the carriage window, eyes catching sight of the valley ahead—a narrow, stony passage flanked by steep, cliff-like formations on either side. It had a bleak beauty, with sharp edges and shadows cast deep in the crevices of the rocks.
Inside the carriage with him were three servants from the estate. They sat quietly, eyes cast downward, their postures stiff and reserved. Holland, a lean man with sandy brown hair, sat closest to the door, his hands folded neatly in his lap. Next to him was Mary, a soft-spoken woman with a gaze that often darted nervously around, as though she expected trouble to spring up at any moment. On Boyd's other side was Edward, a broad-shouldered man who looked more like a farmer than a carriage attendant, with hands rough from years of labor.
The silence felt stifling, growing heavier with each passing moment. Boyd shifted uncomfortably, finally breaking the silence with a dry chuckle.
"So… we're just going to ignore the fact that this place is dead silent and utterly awkward?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at the three servants.
They looked up, startled, exchanging surprised glances as though trying to confirm they'd actually heard their young master speak. Holland cleared his throat, clearly searching for words.
"Sir, we're only… following your instructions. You've told us before several times not to speak unless spoken to."
Boyd shook his head, a bemused smile on his lips.
"Oh, that's absurd. What am I, some lord locked away in a tower? I'd much rather have a conversation than sit in silence all the way to town. We're on the road together, aren't we?"
The servants relaxed, just slightly. Mary was the first to speak, her voice quiet but sincere.
"Thank you, sir. Truly." She glanced at the others, then, emboldened, added, "We've noticed you've… changed. Ever since the plague, it's like you're… a new person."
Boyd nodded, looking out at the setting sun. He was, in truth, a new person in every sense, and yet the secrets he held felt too heavy to share.
"Maybe I am." he admitted softly.
"But it's not that I mind doing work alongside you all. Not anymore. It's… well, I feel like I need to be here, with my father. He's been through so much, and I don't know what's going on yet. But I do know I'll do whatever it takes to make sure he's free."
The silence that followed wasn't tense this time; it was thoughtful, almost reverent. Mary and Edward exchanged a glance, both of them seemingly touched by his words. Holland, though, was more practical.
"You're a good son, young master." he murmured.
"Though, forgive me, sir… your father's always taken care of himself. I think it's the land he'd be more worried about."
Boyd forced a laugh, though there was something haunted in his eyes. "Well, I don't know if I'm made for farm life. But I'll do what I can."
However, in truth, he wasn't concerned with Jonas Longsman's wellbeing in anyway. The only reason he decided that he would inherit the land was because he was never going to forgive himself if he left his father still undertaking orders from the Longsman house. Within himself, he had already completed and accepted within himself that he would liberate his father. However, his thoughts were immediately caught off as his attention was grabbed by an unknown phenomenon, which frankly, should have been impossible.
Just then, he noticed the sky beginning to darken unnaturally. The sun had barely dipped below the horizon, and yet the light was fading faster than it should. Frowning, Boyd leaned forward, peering out the carriage window.
The servant closest to him noticed his concern and followed his gaze.
"Perhaps we should camp, sir." Boyd suggested, voice uncertain.
"Just in case we don't make it to town before full dark."
"Camp?" Edward's voice held a note of alarm.
"Out here, in the valley? Sir, no one camps here after sundown."
Boyd's brows furrowed.
"Why not?"
Holland looked at him solemnly.
"This valley is cursed, or so the locals say. Nighttime brings out the… things that lurk in the dark. They call them the 'nightmare devils.'"
"Nightmare devils?" Boyd repeated, an eerie chill creeping up his spine.
"What kind of stories are you talking about?"
Mary's face went pale. "What do you mean young master? Have you forgotten the world we now live in? They're the same creatures that… that took your mother, sir. You don't remember?" Her voice trembled slightly.
Boyd's pulse raced, confusion and unease growing. Mother? The word lingered, barely given a moment to sink in before—
A loud crack split the air, echoing through the valley like thunder. The carriages jolted as though they'd been struck, and Boyd's hand shot out, grabbing the edge of the seat to steady himself. The darkening sky above was suddenly swallowed in shadow, an immense black veil unfolding like a storm cloud, obscuring the fading light.
Boyd's breath caught. Above, the world seemed to tear open, revealing something impossibly vast and dark beyond the blue sky. The light dimmed, a cold shadow washing over the valley as though the sun itself had been extinguished. Around them, the atmosphere grew charged, thick with a sense of impending doom.
He barely had time to comprehend what he was seeing when he heard a low, ominous rumble. His gaze was drawn to the stony cliffs on either side of the road, where massive figures began to shift in the dim light. One of the ancient stone rubbles, a weathered huge stone carved into the cliffside, cracked open its eyes. Glowing blue light spilled out, and, as if waking from a centuries-long slumber, the statue raised one arm and took a heavy, grinding step forward.
A scream pierced the air as the stone creature reached down, catching one of the carriage drivers in its massive hand. The driver barely had time to struggle before the statue brought him down with brutal force, crushing him into the rocky ground as though he was a mere fly. All around them, the valley walls came alive, each of the stones, or what they had assumed where mere boulders, stirring, stretching, and rising with the same menacing blue glow in their eyes.
Boyd stumbled out of the carriage, his body frozen with terror as he watched the scene unfold. The statues—no, these were giants, beings of stone and malice, towering five meters tall—moved as though they'd been waiting for this moment. They plucked up horses, flinging them into the rocks, their bodies falling limp on impact. Another carriage was torn apart, the servants inside scrambling out, only to be swept up in the giants' crushing grip.
"Run!" someone screamed, the command piercing through Boyd's shock.
Boyd looked back to see Holland, Mary, and Edward already sprinting toward the bridge they'd crossed. Heart pounding, he forced his legs to move, his body propelled more by survival instinct than thought. The sound of stone grinding against stone echoed behind him, along with the screams of the unlucky servants they had captured, squeezing the lives out of the clients, and gulping down their blood in one gulp, but he dared not look back. The giants were in no hurry; they advanced at a steady pace, each step deliberate, as though savoring the terror they were spreading.
The bridge loomed ahead, and Boyd's only thought was to make it across. But as the first of the servants scrambled onto the stone path, the bridge began to shake, trembling with a violence that nearly knocked them off their feet.
A roar split the air, deeper and more monstrous than any sound he'd heard. Boyd looked up in horror as the entire structure of the bridge began to twist, stone pieces shifting and contorting, revealing something massive beneath. The bridge itself was alive, revealing an immense creature unlike any of the others.
Twenty meters tall, with markings that pulsed with eerie blue light, it was a hulking figure of stone and shadows, its form like a grotesque fusion of giant and fortress. It hadn't even made any real movements, but all could tell that by the aura emitted by it, that it was the boss of the show, and now it was time for a slaughter.
The boss's eyes gleamed, focusing on Boyd with a strange intelligence, as though it knew he was different, as though it recognized him.
Boyd froze, his breath coming in short gasps. The creature's gaze seemed to pierce straight into his soul, searing him with an unspoken promise of death. Around him, the servants had scattered, some scrambling back, others hesitating at the edge of the valley, all caught between the oncoming giants and the bridge-creature blocking their escape.
"This...This...This is a nightmare devil? Why the bloody hell does something like this even exist?"
This was no longer a simple road to town; it was a battlefield. And as Boyd stared up at the monstrosity before him, he knew that he'd have to summon every ounce of courage—and whatever powers he had yet to understand—if he hoped to survive the night.
The darkness pressed in, the giants closing their ranks, and Boyd felt a chill settle over his skin. This was just the beginning. The battle was about to begin.