Today, in the village of Blackwater, it was raining again.

Nothing unusual—it rained every damn day. It soaked the ground through and through, turning the streets into a muddy mess.

After all, it was the rainy season. The whole land around was covered in mud because there were no roads in this village.

In this swamp, every step was a struggle, making life even harder for the poor.

Yet, the village seemed lively—children, teenagers, adults walked around. In short, all sorts of fantastic creatures you would never meet in normal society.

And they were all united by one simple fact. They all worked.

Amidst all this commotion, two figures were working as well—nothing about them stood out. They both looked like children born into slavery.

— Damn, I hate this freaking season. My whole body is soaked… And my wounds, these damn wounds, keep opening up even more, — Glumer cursed. His face made it clear how he felt.

Glumer had an ordinary oval face and black, filthy hair that even the rain couldn't wash clean. In short, he looked no different from those around him.

Beside him walked another boy, with the same exhausted and ordinary face. It was clear that even the trees they carried water from didn't do much to ease the burden on their shoulders.

The second boy swore.

— Oh, shut up already. Do you think I'm not sick of hearing your damn whining? — he said, his tone a mix of pleading and rage.

His name was Lark. He was Glumer's friend and loyal companion, having grown up with him in this village. And yet, even after all these years, he had never gotten used to Glumer's constant complaints.

The village had different families—some were dirt poor and worked all day, while others were more influential, able to afford better jobs and even rest.

Glumer and Lark struggled to keep their balance. Near the wooden houses, they had to walk carefully while carrying their load.

Thanks to their speed and persistence, they quickly reached the wooden house they needed.

Another boy immediately opened the door for them.

It was obvious he had been waiting at the entrance.

From an outsider's perspective, he was noticeably different from them. He was tall, about 170 cm, with a thinner frame and well-groomed hair that was clearly washed and neatly styled. This boy was certainly not greeting them with a smile.

— What the hell took you so long, idiots? While I was waiting, even Ars had time to go take a shit, — he shouted.

His name was Veil, and he looked like a zombie. Honestly, if Glumer didn't know him personally, he would have thought this guy was an actual corpse.

The irony was that this zombie talked way too much. Just like Glumer…

They ignored the idiot and carefully set down the sturdy branch from which their bucket of water hung. The next second, both of them collapsed from exhaustion.

— Damn it, one more trip, and I swear I'll die, — Glumer swore again.

Lark, on the other hand, seemed to have fallen asleep. To him, this moment of rest felt like a divine gift.

— Ars, it's our turn now, — Veil called out.

Ars immediately stepped out, not even looking at the two.

— Damn, they came back too fast. I could've had another minute to lie down…

Veil glanced at him and responded:

— Hey, if you three idiots keep going at this pace, we won't finish even by tomorrow. Just fill up the buckets and move!

With that, he took off running in the needed direction. Ars didn't fall behind—he grabbed the remaining buckets, filled them, and rushed after Veil.

Lark, watching them with half-open eyes, mumbled:

— Ugh… I wish I had his energy. I wonder why, out of all of us, I always get tired the most—both physically and mentally.

Even that idiot Glumer has enough energy to keep cursing and whining all day in any situation.

There was no one to blame in this world. Did God exist? Maybe. But even if he did, it was clear he didn't give a damn about these people. You could tell just by observing these children's lives. Even their clothes couldn't hide the countless wounds on their bodies.

All the worst things that could happen in this world were everyday realities here. Glumer and Lark didn't even know how old they were. The only thing certain was that they were just kids who had no idea what they wanted from life.

Since childhood, they had only seen one kind of life—work. The only saving grace was that they had people to work alongside. Maybe that was the only thing keeping them from losing their will to live entirely.

Right now, they were replenishing the village's water supply. Water was a valuable resource here, and there were never enough workers to carry it.

Suddenly, a song broke the silence near Glumer.

— The river sings, the dream gives, sorrow fades, and the sun appears… — Lark began to sing, seeming genuinely happy for once.

Glumer swore a few more times and joined in on the melody.

— Who knows, maybe in another damn life, we'll finally be free from these chains.

Night fell quickly, carrying away the village's complaints and replacing them with joy and laughter. At night, the villagers could finally lie down, talk, and do whatever they wanted—within reason. It was the only time they felt free from work.

A house near the sea was filled with waves of laughter. The people inside drank cold water with the delight of aristocrats savoring wine.

This house had a name, a history, and a fate of its own. These children called it "The Threads of Fate." It was named after an ancient story that even the dogs knew.

Originally, twelve children had lived in The Threads of Fate. But life had no mercy. Now, only five of them were left alive. And they all considered themselves one big family.

The fifth member was absent due to work in the mines. So for now, there were four of them.

Inside the Threads of Fate, Lark lay on the floor, sleeping peacefully. Drool dripped from his mouth, and judging by his face, he was seeing a pleasant dream.

To avoid waking him, the other three sat outside, talking.

As always, Glumer talked the most.

— The only good thing this awful season brings is water. Honestly, it's better than any other liquid I've ever encountered.

Veil chuckled.

— Maybe that's because you've never drunk anything else?

— Don't tell me you're about to brag about your experience again?

— Heh, heh. I can afford to. You wouldn't believe how sweet some drinks in the world are. After that, water stops tasting like anything special.

After a pause, Veil continued:

— In a year, I'll be sixteen, and then I'll finally be considered an adult. Mark my words, the first thing I'll buy and bring home will be that drink.

— It'd be funny if the priests tell you you're actually not even fourteen yet. Heh, heh. That's possible, you know. You have no way of knowing your real age.

— Don't be jealous, You'll be begging me for charity soon enough.

Ars sat with his arms around his knees, gazing at the lively village. He paid no attention to his friends, simply admiring the scenery. Among them all, he was the quietest.

From their house on the hill near the shore, they had a clear view of the sea. Everything looked as usual—except for the fog.

Glumer was still mumbling about something when Ars suddenly froze.

His gaze locked onto the horizon.

At first, no one understood what had alarmed him.

The sea? What about the damn sea? It had always been there. Murky, heavy, churning like filth.

But then, the fog moved.

Not from the wind.

Not from the waves.

It moved on its own.

Veil tensed. Glumer blinked and shook his head, as if checking if he was hallucinating.

Then something enormous began to emerge from the gray mist.

An island.

But not just an island.

It hadn't surfaced. It hadn't appeared over the horizon. It had always been there—just hidden. As if the world itself refused to let it be seen.

And now that Ars had finally noticed it, his stomach twisted into an icy knot.

— Shit… — Glumer swallowed. — Don't tell me that's…

Veil, always the responsible one, immediately rushed inside to wake Lark.

And then the ground trembled.

A wave of fog surged into the village.

It didn't just hide them.

Before panic could even begin, the first scream rang out.

From the shore, figures of bone and steel began to emerge.