When I woke up, something felt off. My chest was heavy, and a deep, unnatural silence filled the air, broken only by the faint toll of the town bell. I didn't know it then, but that bell would signal the beginning of a nightmare.
Alysia came rushing into my room, her face pale and streaked with tears. She clung to me tightly, her tiny hands trembling as she whispered, "I'm scared. It's so scary outside."
I wanted to comfort her, but my throat was dry, and I couldn't find the words. Then, I heard them—footsteps echoing downstairs. Ethan, George, and Alice were preparing for something. Something bad.
Alice grabbed us both, her grip firm but shaking, and hurried us to the kitchen. She whispered prayers under her breath, though I could see the fear in her eyes. George, always the strong one, said he needed to help the capital. He didn't wait for anyone's approval—he just left.
We stayed there, huddled in silence. Alysia clutched her stuffed toy like it was her lifeline. But after a while, she tugged at my sleeve and said, "Let's go play with dolls in my room."
I didn't want to, but what else could I do?
---
Downstairs, Ethan paced the room while Alice leaned against the kitchen table, her hands gripping the edge tightly.
"This shouldn't be happening," Ethan muttered, his voice a mix of confusion and anger. "The Demon King is dead. We killed him. There hasn't been an attack in years!"
Alice, her eyes scanning the darkened windows, replied, "It doesn't matter how it's happening. What matters is keeping them safe."
Ethan stopped and looked at her. "Do you think it's the Crimson Moon?"
Alice hesitated, her lips trembling as she whispered, "Maybe. But it doesn't make sense. The sun was out just minutes ago—"
Her words were cut short as the room plunged into darkness. The sunlight vanished as if swallowed whole, and an unnatural chill filled the air. Through the windows, the moon appeared—crimson, glowing with an eerie light that seemed alive. Its sinister hue seeped into the room, painting everything in blood-red shadows.
A knock echoed from the door.
Ethan and Alice froze, their breaths catching in their throats.
"It might be someone who needs help," Alice said, though her voice wavered. "The barrier is still intact. They can't get through unless…"
Ethan nodded and gripped his dagger tightly. Slowly, he approached the door, each step deliberate and cautious. The knocking came again, louder this time, almost impatient.
He opened the door carefully.
There was nothing.
A cold wind rushed in, carrying the faint scent of blood. Ethan turned back to Alice, confusion etched on his face. "No one's—"
Before he could finish, his head was severed in a single, clean strike. Blood sprayed across the room as his body crumpled to the ground, his head rolling to Alice's feet.
Standing in the doorway was a monster—a grotesque amalgamation of human and beast, its body twisted and mutilated. Its claws dripped with blood, and its face was a horrifying blend of feline features and human agony, as if someone had tried to force the two together.
Alice screamed, raising her hands to cast a spell, but the creature was faster. A blade shot through her chest, piercing her heart. She gasped, her eyes wide in shock as blood spilled from her lips.
She fell next to Ethan, her hand reaching out toward him before her body went still.
---
I saw everything.
Alysia opened her mouth to scream, but I clamped my hand over hers, shaking my head. My body trembled as I whispered, "Hide. Under the bed. Now."
Her eyes were wide with terror, tears streaming down her face as she crawled beneath the bed. I stayed there, frozen, my tiny dagger clutched in my shaking hands. I knew I couldn't fight it. I knew I was too weak.
But I couldn't just do nothing.
I tried to stand, but my legs gave out. My knees hit the floor, and I realized I couldn't breathe. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst.
Warmth spread down my leg. I had wet myself.
The stench of blood filled the air, choking me. I couldn't move. I couldn't think.
And then I heard it.
"ALYSIA! WHERE ARE YOU?!"
It was George's voice, desperate and raw.
The door burst open, and there he was, bloodied and exhausted but alive. His eyes locked on Alysia as she crawled out from under the bed, running to him.
"Alysia!" he cried, scooping her into his arms. Relief washed over his face as he held her tightly, his hands trembling.
But I couldn't move.
I stared at the carnage—the lifeless bodies of Ethan and Alice, the blood pooling beneath them, and the torn, twisted corpses of the demons George had slain.
The room flickered with the crimson light of the moon, shadows dancing across the walls like mocking phantoms.
George's voice cracked as he whispered, "Ethan… Alice…"
He fell to his knees, clutching Alysia tightly as tears streamed down his face. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
He looked at us one last time, his expression heavy with sorrow.
"Farewell," he murmured.
And in that moment, I realized the weight of it all—the lives lost, the blood spilled, and the darkness that had taken hold of our world.
I knew that George had been a hero. That was his duty. But what was the point of being a hero when your family died for it? He had given everything to protect them, and in the end, he was left with nothing. His family was gone, his home destroyed. Heroes had a responsibility—to fight, to protect, to sacrifice. But George's sacrifice had taken everything from him.
The tears I had been holding back finally broke free. The weight of the loss, the crushing reality of it all, hit me like a wave. I was just a child, but I knew. I knew that heroes couldn't always win. Sometimes, they had to lose everything. And I couldn't understand why.