They traveled for hours, the smoke of her burning village fading into the distance. Nana didn't speak. She barely even blinked. Her body moved only because the soldier dragged her forward.
When they finally reached another village, she lifted her head slightly, her mind slowly registering her surroundings. This place was different. Larger. The buildings were stronger, built with stone and wood rather than the simple huts of her home. But the most unsettling thing was the people—men.
Everywhere she looked, there were men. No women, no children. Just men, some sharpening weapons, others watching her with cold, indifferent eyes.
Then she saw him.
A boy, maybe a little older than her, with dirt-streaked skin and torn clothes. He had been taken too. His wrists were bound, his face bruised, but his eyes were sharp, filled with quiet defiance.
Nana swallowed hard. She wasn't the only one.
They passed through towering gates, guarded by men who stood like statues, their hands resting on their weapons. The air inside was different—heavy, suffocating, filled with an unspoken rule that only those who belonged here could breathe freely.
This was no ordinary village. This was the Devourer's territory.
The soldiers led them through a stone pathway, past more men who barely spared them a glance. At the center stood a grand hall, dark and imposing, its entrance guarded by warriors who looked like they feared nothing.
Nana barely had time to take it all in before she was shoved forward. She hit the cold stone floor hard, her knees scraping against the rough surface. The boy beside her grunted as he, too, was forced down.
Then, silence.
The soldiers around them knelt, bowing their heads with clean, precise respect, the kind that came from fear.
"My Lord," one of them said, his voice steady but careful. "We bring offerings."
Nana kept her head down, her heart hammering. She didn't dare look up. But she could feel it—the presence in the room. Heavy.
Nana's breath caught in her throat as she finally dared to lift her gaze.
And that's when she saw him.
Seated on an elevated throne, draped in dark, commanding attire, was the most terrifying yet beautiful being she had ever laid eyes on. His face was sharp, almost otherworldly, with piercing eyes that seemed to see straight through her. Power radiated from him, thick and suffocating, making the air feel heavier.
Her fear wavered, replaced by something else—curiosity.
"Who—" she started, but before she could get the words out, a sharp smack landed on the side of her head.
She gasped, the force of it making her head snap forward. Pain stung her skull.
"Do not look at him without permission," the soldier beside her hissed, his voice like ice.
Nana bit her lip, her heart pounding. She lowered her gaze again, but she had already seen him. The Devourer. And she knew, without a doubt, that she was staring into the face of something far more dangerous than death itself.
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. The presence in the room was overwhelming, pressing down on Nana like an invisible weight.
Then, his voice came. Deep.
"This is what you have brought to me?" The Devourer's tone was calm, yet something in it sent chills down Nana's spine.
The soldiers remained bowed, their heads low in submission. "Yes, my lord," one of them answered. "A girl and a boy, taken from the village. The rest were dealt with."
Nana swallowed, her fists clenching. Dealt with. That meant her family, her people—gone. Her throat tightened, but she forced herself to remain still.
The Devourer said nothing at first. She felt his gaze. It was unbearable, knowing he was looking at her, deciding her fate with a single thought.
"What use do I have for them?" His voice was neither bored nor interested, simply factual.
"They are strong, my lord," the soldier quickly answered. "The girl, she fought even when she knew it was hopeless."
A pause. Then a low hum, as if the Devourer was considering.
Nana's heart pounded, her pulse roaring in her ears. She didn't know what was worse—him deciding she was useless or him finding a reason to keep her.
For the first time, she forced herself to look up, just slightly, just enough to see his face again. And she regretted it instantly.
His gaze met hers, and in that split second, she felt the weight of his power—ancient, merciless, and completely in control.
A hard slap landed on the back of her head, making her flinch. "Do not look at him without permission," the soldier beside her growled.
The Devourer's expression didn't change. "Throw them into the dungeon."
Nana's stomach twisted.
"Yes, my lord."
Before she could react, rough hands grabbed her, yanking her to her feet. The boy beside her was dragged up as well.
The Devourer had already looked away, as if they were no more significant than dust beneath his feet.
As they were forced out of the grand hall, down the cold stone corridors, Nana clenched her jaw.
She didn't know what awaited her in the dungeon, but one thing was clear—this was only the beginning.
The dungeon was cold, damp, and smelled of rot. Nana sat against the rough stone wall, her arms wrapped around her knees. The only light came from a single torch flickering outside the iron bars.
The boy sat across from her, silent. He was lean, his face smeared with dirt, his wrists still raw from the ropes that had bound him. His dark eyes flicked toward her before he spoke.
"What's your name?"
She hesitated before answering. "Nana."
A beat of silence. Then, "I'm Callan."
She nodded slightly but said nothing. The weight of everything that had happened sat heavy on her chest. Her village was gone. Her family was dead. And now, they were here, waiting for whatever fate the Devourer had in store for them.
After a while, Callan sighed. "You shouldn't have looked at him."
Nana's jaw tightened. "I didn't mean to."
"You did," he said simply. "And you got hit for it."
She shot him a glare. "Do you always point out the obvious?"
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it didn't last. "I just don't want to die because you make him angry."
Nana lowered her gaze. He had a point. The Devourer was nothing like she had ever seen before. And now, he controlled their fate.
They both fell into silence again, the cold seeping into their bones.
"What do you think he'll do to us?" she finally asked.
Callan leaned his head back against the wall. "I don't know," he admitted. "But whatever it is, it won't be mercy."