Snow fell in a deafening silence, blanketing the forest in an endless sheet of white. The biting cold seeped through every layer of fabric, gnawing at exposed skin like unseen teeth. The oppressive quiet of the woods was broken only by the labored breaths of two figures—an older boy wearing a sleek white mask shaped like a fox, and a younger girl clinging to his side, her canine mask bobbing with every shaky step.
Their boots crunched through the densely packed snow, the sound mingling with the girl's soft whimpers. She clutched her brother's arm tightly, her small legs struggling to keep up with his hurried pace. The Olders boys gaze focused ahead while the sister could not seem to open her teary eyes.
"Azul... Azul, is Mum, okay?" the girl's trembling voice cut through the cold, her masked face tilting up to look at him. Desperation, hope, and denial warred in her tone. "That... it wasn't her, right? Right?!"
Azul could only spare her a fleeting glance, drawing her closer to his side. Her words echoed in his mind, dredging up memories he desperately wanted to bury.
Blood. Too much blood to comprehend. He had only managed to escape with his sister thanks to the sacrifice of his fellow clan members. They'd held the line for mere moments—admirable protectors reduced to nothing in the blink of an eye. Their corpses were consumed, the relentless crimson tide erasing all trace of their existence, leaving only the ghost of their final pleas to hang in the air.
The monster responsible wore a mask like his own. But where his was pristine, its form sleek and sharp, hers had twisted into something grotesque—flesh and wood fused into a living, breathing nightmare. The woman who had once worn it was gone, replaced by a beast driven mad.
His mother had been cursed. Anyone else afflicted might have been stopped, but she wasn't just anyone. She was the clan's pride—their most lethal assassin. With her mastery over blood magic now amplified to unimaginable levels, no one had stood a chance.
"That wasn't her, Ari..." Azul finally managed to say, his voice tight with restraint, struggling not to shed his own tears. "Our mother is gone."
The small hands clutching his arm tightened, and Ari's steps faltered as if the weight of his words threatened to collapse her.
Silence reclaimed the forest, save for the crunch of snow beneath their feet. The siblings trudged forward, side by side, through the endless expanse of trees. The falling snow clung to their traditional cloth garments, adorning them in a chilling reminder of the winter's grip. The day waned, the light dimming, but they never stopped. They couldn't. The creature that had claimed their mother's form was no ordinary beast—it carried her mastery of blood magic. And they both knew too well what that meant: it could sense their blood, hear the rhythm of their heartbeats, perhaps even miles away.
Suddenly, a wave of invasive emotions surged through Azul's mind—annoyance, anger, and disgust, sharp and foreign. He clenched his jaw, his stride steady but his hand instinctively reaching up to clutch his mask. He knew the source: the daemon.
Each mask of the clan contained a spirit, a daemon bound to its wearer in a symbiotic relationship. The clansmen gained guidance, strength, and wisdom, while the daemons found purpose—bragging rights earned through their wearer's feats. It was their way of competing, finding meaning in an otherwise eternal existence. Azul's own daemon, however, was no ordinary guide. It had been recruited by his mother herself, chosen to serve him directly rather than passed down through the generations like the others.
The image of the flesh mask resurfaced in Azul's mind, unbidden and horrifying. He could still see the grotesque transformation—the smooth, white wood morphing into living tissue, veins pulsing beneath its surface as if alive. Somehow, the daemon bound to his mother's mask had gone mad, seizing control of her body. Its mana had mingled with hers, amplifying her already formidable power to monstrous levels. It had unlocked abilities no wearer was ever meant to access.
The memory clawed at him, demanding his attention.
Just who had done this to her? Azul's heart twisted with the thought. There was no way it was her fault, nor her daemon's—he was certain of that. His mother had always been sharp, calculating, as the clan's deadliest assassin. She wouldn't have dabbled in something reckless, not even with the power of the daemon at her side.
It had to be someone else. One of their enemies. The Kazura clan was still a force to be reckoned with, small in number but unmatched in power. And with that strength came envy. Azul could feel the bitter sting of that envy in every corner of the continent.
No, it wasn't a random attack. This had been a strategic blow. Someone had seen the Kazura clan as a threat and had taken their most valuable weapon—his mother—and twisted it into something monstrous. There had been no attempt to take territory or claim any of their riches. Only slaughter. A message.
But right now, none of that mattered. Azul shook off the thoughts, forced himself to focus. The chill in the air was starting to gnaw at his bones, but he could handle it—he had always endured. Ari, on the other hand, didn't have the same resilience. Her clothes were thin, and her body was trembling in his arms, her tears frozen on her face. The sight tore at his heart.
Without hesitation, he lifted her into his arms, cradling her close. Ari didn't resist, her eyes fluttering open for a moment, but she gave him only the faintest glance before closing them again. She surrendered to the warmth of his arms, finding what little rest she could.
The sun continued to set into the afternoon, its dwindling rays struggling to pierce through the dense forestry, casting long, uneven shadows across the snow-covered ground. The forest, heavy with the weight of the cold, seemed to close in around them, its silence only broken by the faint rustle of wind through the trees and the crunch of their boots on the frozen earth.
Azul's mind was a storm of thoughts, but he forced them down, focusing instead on the soft weight of Ari in his arms. Her shallow breaths against his chest were a quiet reminder of everything he had to protect. she was all he left now, no matter what beast or opponent had crossed their path he would give his all. He could do nothing back then except watch his clan get slaughtered by his own mother.
With Ari still resting in his arms, Azul's gaze wandered, drawn to the familiar weight on his back. Shifting to hold her more securely with one arm, he brushed lightly against the hilt of his sword. The texture of the handle, worn smooth from years of use, stirred memories of constant practice. Each swing, each repetition, had been a step toward matching the power his mother once wielded—struggles that had shaped him into the warrior he was now.
He had nearly given up countless times, questioning whether he was even capable of reaching her level. But each time doubt crept in, his daemon's presence would surge, like a surge of heat in his chest, sharp and demanding. It wasn't the usual encouragement most daemons offered; no, his daemon's guidance was raw, primal.
Where others sought a balance of skills, accomplishments, or wisdom, Azul's daemon valued only one thing.
Strength.
Inariko was its name.
Inariko's presence suddenly surged within him, a sharp, tingling sensation, like a whisper of danger clawing at the edges of his mind. It was subtle at first—a flicker of unease in the back of his thoughts—but it grew rapidly into an urgent pull that couldn't be ignored. The daemon's message, not in words but in emotions, pressed against Azul's consciousness: Danger.
Azul's grip instinctively tightened around the hilt of his sword, his head snapping to the side, eyes narrowing as he scanned the darkened woods. His heartbeat quickened, adrenaline surging through his veins. What is it? he thought, but Inariko's urgency was enough. The daemon's instincts had never failed him before.
He glanced down at Ari, her face peaceful in sleep, unaware of the danger creeping ever closer. Azul's heart clenched. It couldn't be the blood daemon in pursuit. He should have heard its demonic screech or felt its presence by now.
But was it a beast? Or a man? Azul didn't know. But one thing was certain: the enemy had the advantage. Standing still and allowing them to get closer was not an option. Right now, they needed to escape.
Azul focused, and a familiar warmth spread through his veins. Mana coursed through him, strengthening his frigid muscles and sharpening his mind. The cold winds swirling around him began to shift, bending to his will. The snow that had once clung to his clothes was flung aside as the gusts began to shield him and Ari.
While his mother had dominion over blood, Azul had mastery over wind. He could command the air at will. And now, with the wind aiding him, he surged forward, pushing himself through the snow faster than he could ever run alone, the icy winds propelling them forward with unstoppable force.
The sudden acceleration jolted Ari awake. Her eyes fluttered open, disoriented, and she gasped, her hands instinctively clutching onto Azul's neck. "Azul… What's happening?" she murmured, voice thick with sleep, her small form still trembling in his arms.
Azul didn't respond, his focus entirely on the rushing wind and the dangerous path ahead. He could feel Ari's confusion, but there was no time for explanation. "Hold on," he muttered under his breath, tightening his hold on her.
Ari squeezed her eyes shut, the force of the wind tearing at her clothes and hair, but she didn't dare ask any more questions. She simply clung to him, her trust in her older brother unshakable as they sped through the forest, the world around them blurring into a whirlwind of snow and cold.
Azul felt his reserves slowly dwindle, but he had enough to sustain for half an hour, hopefully enough to escape from the new threat, yet the ping of danger from Inariko remained. it seemed that the foe could keep pace.
The chase had continued for a minute when, out of the corner of his eye, Azul caught a flash of silver—a gleam that sliced through the gloom like a streak of light. Instinctively, he braced, halting his sprint and pivoting forward. In one fluid motion, he drew his sword, his other arm clutching the panicking Ari against him. With a swift slash, the throwing knife collided with the katana's blade, deflected cleanly. The pale green steel of his weapon caught the faint light, its edge now sharp and ready for blood.
'We're surrounded', Azul realized, heart hammering in his chest. Another gleam of light tore through the falling snow, a second projectile heading straight for him. Without hesitation, Azul placed Ari gently in the snow and lashed out with his freed hand. The wind roared to life, responding to his call, and crashed into the arrow with a deafening force. The projectile faltered, its momentum killed as it veered off course and into the white.
It seemed that whatever faction had destroyed his clan had sent its own soldiers to hunt down the survivors. To keep up with Azul, they must have been competent—highly trained. Still in the clearing where the siblings had sought refuge, Azul remained still, vigilant, waiting for the inevitable strike. Blade to blade.
Ari stayed close, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts against his legs. She knew all too well what they faced. The throwing knife had made that clear, as well as the well veiled stealth that marked their attackers. It was likely their enemies shared the same profession as their mother.
Assassins.
Without warning, more projectiles flew from the distant trees, a flurry of knives and arrows cutting through the air. Ari crouched low, staying hidden against Azul's side, while he stretched out his senses, grasping hold of the wind around him. The gentle breeze thickened into a blade, sharp and responsive. One by one, the weapons were severed mid-air, falling harmlessly to the ground before they could reach the siblings.
Another volley came from new directions, but once again Azul battered them down with the will of the wind at his fingertips. A scowl formed behind the mask, gripping tighter on his blade Azul took a deep breath and yelled.
"It's useless! If you want to slay me, you'll have to do it with your own two hands!" His proclamation echoing to the woods, hopefully the assassins would follow the taunt, if he wanted to stand a chance, he needed them to show themselves.
What followed was eerie silence, followed by a bright flash of crimson flames that formed into a pearlies sphere, the fireball the size of an elk was sent hurling at him, reaching its target the matter of a second.
Azul gritted his teeth quickly gathered the wind at his hand, the air forming into a gauntlet that coalesced and shot forward from his fingertips like a bullet, intercepting and penetrating the fireball.
The magic was only a feet away as the wind bullet exploded inside the fireball, a swath of fire breaking apart and falling in a shower over Azul and Ari, instantly the snow around them melted as the terrified Ari screamed as the world was covered in fire.
But before it could drown them in heat a small tornado formed around the masked duo, the tornado drawing in the flames around the two, both remaining in the eye of the storm as the tornado swirled the fire around them, moisture from the melted snow filling the air.
Under the cooling embrace of the tornado, Ari looked up at her brother still shaken her auburn locks being carried in the wind, her eyes full of terror but shining with subtle awe.
Azul's gaze sharpened, swiping his hand he dismissed the tornado, the remaining fire extinguishing into the air, with the veil of wind broken, he spotted his would-be assassins. five of them surrounding him, each one adorned in pitch black light cloth, each equipped with a gallery of different weaponry at their side.
One of the assassins pulled down his gaiter, his pale scared lips spreading in a smirk.
"So, you're not nothing Arnt you?" he happily scoffed, before gesturing at them both. "It seems like Bloodfang had raised a proper fighter, can't say the same about the girl though"
Ari at his mention hid closer to Azul. snarling in response Azul spat.
" So, you know about us?"
The assassin nodded, now arming himself with one of the many throwing knifes at his belt.
"We were sent to hunt survivors down; you were listed among the priory targets. Teal Fox? Thats what boss called you, anyway, so why wouldn't we." The assassin finished with a shrug.
The tension in the air seemed to thicken, Azul inquiring further.
"Would you mind telling me about your boss? I want to know the name of the bastard for later"
The assassin looked surprised for a second before shifting into glee.
"Why tell you, it's a waste of my time to educate a dead man." The assassin declared.
Immediately the assassins launched at him from all directions, blades in hand and ready to reap their lives.
Azul grimaced but felt the subtle feelings of Inariko, instead of fear, doubt and urgency, the daemon simply found it humorous, its pride ballooning, the reinforcement quelling Azul's anxieties.
If Inariko thought he could defeat them, who was he to faulter.
Taking stance, the wind roared in response, the falling snow being blown away from the battlefield.
The assassins closed in, their blades gleaming in the dim light, but Azul stood unmoved, the wind howling in preparation—he was ready for their strike.
-------------------------------------------------
Not far away, in the distant expanse of the thick trees, a small section of the winter-crested sky seemed to shimmer. A crack formed—silent yet pulsing with an unnatural energy. The fractured piece of reality emanated immense power and dread, its spread growing steadily, as if the world itself was about to break.