[Black Sun]

"Is this enough?" A hooded figure beside William asked, his voice low.

They stood in the town square of Hawden, the grand fountain behind them still spewing water, oblivious to the horror unfolding around it.

Screams and wails echoed through the night. Townsfolk huddled in the shadows, watching in silent terror, too afraid to move, too stricken to act.

Before them stood William and his robed followers, their dark silhouettes illuminated only by the flickering torchlight, and at their feet—gagged, bound, and writhing—lay the unwilling participants of their ritual.

The captives struggled violently, muffled cries of despair barely escaping through their restraints.

Some kicked at the ground in frantic desperation; others twisted and turned, their wide, tear-filled eyes darting between their captors and the ominous symbols scrawled in blood beneath them.

One by one, the prisoners were dragged into place, their bodies tossed unceremoniously into a ritualistic circle drawn in thick, congealing crimson.

Thump!

William drove his boot into the head of a struggling captive, the impact silencing them instantly.

"More than enough…" He said coolly, rolling his shoulders. Then, turning his head slightly, he addressed the figure beside him. "Say, Hugh. I heard you had a bit of trouble with the ceremony earlier?"

Hugh gave an amused chuckle. "Just a small incident. A curious child wandered somewhere he shouldn't have."

William made a slow, deliberate gesture across his throat. "And? Did you…?"

"No," Hugh said, a smirk in his voice. "I did something even better."

William raised a brow, then let out a low laugh. "You sick freak. I pity that poor child… But enough talk. The hour is upon us. Time waits for no man."

At his words, the other robed figures gave a silent nod before dispersing, taking their positions around the circle.

William turned his gaze to the heavens, his lips curling into a twisted smile. The night sky above seemed to pulse, an unnatural darkness creeping across it like ink spilling into water. The very air grew heavy, thick with the weight of something ancient stirring.

'Come, Black Sun… With you, He shall rise. This world—this traitorous world—will kneel before His endless glory.'

A voice shattered the silence.

"Everyone, now!" Hugh commanded from the other side of the circle.

Each cultist seized hold of a captive, gripping them tightly despite their thrashing resistance. For a brief moment, there was nothing but the sound of ragged breathing. A held breath before the plunge.

Then—the sky split.

Darkness bled from the heavens, an abyssal gloom swallowing the land beneath it. An unnatural chill rolled through the square, and with it, a whisper—a voice unheard yet felt, seeping into their minds like a thousand unseen hands grasping at their thoughts.

"Do it now!" William ordered.

With a swift motion, he pulled a small, gleaming blade from his robes and dragged it across the throat of the captive in his grasp.

Shliiick!

Blood spilled, warm and wet, cascading down his hands in silent offering. Without hesitation, he cast the body into the circle's centre, crimson mixing with the already-drenched earth.

Whuuum!

A deep, resonating hum rumbled through the ground, vibrating up their legs, into their bones.

As the others followed suit, one body after another collapsed into the circle, the growing pool of blood sending ripples of power through the ritual's design.

The blood seeping from the sacrifices, once a vivid crimson, grew dull and gained a blackish hue.

Whoosh!

A sudden gust of wind howled through the square as the chant began. At first, their voices were low, mere whispers carried by the wind.

But as the wind raged on and whipped at them, as the hum above became a deafening resonance, their words rose in a fevered crescendo:

"O Lord of Shadows, veil the light,

Let truth be whispered in endless night.

Through your darkness, our eyes shall see,

Through your silence, we shall be free.

Grant us wisdom beyond the veil,

Where mortal minds both falter and fail."

"Through blood and breath,

through soul and sin,

The gate is open—step within!

Drown the stars, smother the light,

Cast the world into endless night!"

Then, with a blinding crimson flash, a pillar of light erupted into the heavens—a beacon of blasphemy, a herald of tragedy.

"Yes!" William's voice cracked, his body trembling, his breath coming in rapid gasps. His mind burned with the revelation, with the fevered knowledge that at last—at last—they would see Him.

They would see Him rise.

The air twisted. The world itself seemed to hold its breath.

William exhaled, a gentle mumur escaping his lips filled with boundless reverence.

"O Cogus… Lord most high. Let us see thine endless night."

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Huff!Puff!

The sound of heavy breathing lingered in the crisp afternoon air outside Claude's manor.

With clenched fists, Claude stared at the lone oak tree before him. Once, the land had been filled with trees like this—stalwart, mighty, standing against the passage of time.

Now, it was a wreck. Fallen trunks lay scattered across the grassy terrain, their bark battered and dirt heaped around them where they had crashed. 

Step by step, Claude approached the final tree, its rough surface catching the golden light of the afternoon sun.

When he reached its base, he inhaled deeply. Then, he climbed.

Step, after step, after step.

Before he knew it, he had reached the upper boughs, the thick branches weaving a canopy around him like the ribs of some ancient beast. The world beneath him seemed distant, unreal.

A glance downward sent a wave of disorientation through his gut. The earth swayed in his vision, nausea rising.

"Heugh!" With a sharp breath, Claude pushed off from the tree and landed firmly on the ground, his knees absorbing the impact.

Finally.

It had been weeks since Alfred's lessons, weeks spent struggling to control his Vitalis. No matter how he willed it, it remained unruly—like a disobedient child.

But a week ago, he had discovered something. By coating his Vitalis in Mental Energy, he could shape it, guide it.

Even so, there was a price.

Each time he used his Vitalis, his Mental Energy drained alongside it. And worse—whenever the two energies interacted, they didn't simply exist side by side. They changed. They grew, twisted, and fed off one another in ways he couldn't yet understand.

Especially his Vitalis.

But…

Claude clenched his fists. He wasn't satisfied.

With Vitalis, his body could surge with power, strength far beyond an ordinary man's.

Without it?

He was weak. Frail. A sickly child grasping at a future just out of reach.

"Aah." Exhaling softly, Claude turned away from the tree and strode across the ruined field. 

Soon, his nose twitched. The scent of baked bread and fresh fruit drifted through the air. His pace quickened, approaching the source of the scent.

Eventually, he found Evelyn sitting upon a neatly laid blanket, its fine linen spread across the grass with meticulous care. Beside her, two wicker baskets rested—one large, one small.

"Master Claude!" she called, patting the space beside her. "Have you finished training?" 

Her wide eyes flickered across the field, lingering on the shattered tree trunks.

"I still cannot believe such abilities exist in this world. Why have I never heard of them before?" She whispered.

"Never mind." She shook her head, her brown curls bouncing slightly. "Come and rest. You should not push your body so recklessly…"

Claude wordlessly dropped onto the blanket, pressing a hand against his temple as Evelyn continued her concerned rambling. Against his better judgment, he remained silent.

His gaze drifted across the meadow.

Even marred by fallen trees, the golden sun cast a warm glow over the landscape, and a gentle breeze whistled through the grass. It was peaceful. The kind of peace he once longed for.

If only this body weren't failing.

Then, perhaps, this moment would be perfect.

The warmth of the sun. The quiet hum of the wind. The presence of someone who cared.

Once, he would have given anything for this. A flicker of warmth stirred within him—then faded just as quickly.

Claude pressed his lips together. 'But my goals are no longer the same.'

Evelyn opened the larger basket, unveiling an array of food wrapped in linen cloth. A loaf of freshly baked rye bread, its crust still crisp.

A wooden jar of butter, thick and golden. Soft cheese, wrapped in waxed paper. Apples, plums, and a tin of honeyed nuts.

From the smaller basket, she withdrew a pair of pewter goblets and a flask of watered wine, pouring him a cup before serving herself.

"You're barely eating," she scolded as Claude tore off a piece of bread and dipped it into the butter without much enthusiasm.

"I'm eating," he replied dryly, taking a slow bite.

She sighed but let it go, instead picking at the nuts with dainty fingers. "I've been wondering, Master Claude—why did we even come outside? It's not as if we can see the dawning of the Black Sun from here."

Claude leaned back, stretching his arms. "And why do you think that?"

"Well…" Evelyn hesitated. "I've heard stories. People who stare at it lose their sight. Isn't it dangerous?"

Claude chuckled softly. "Have you brought what I asked?"

Her brows furrowed. "Oh!" After a moment of confusion, realization dawned on her face. "Yes, yes! I have it here!"

She turned, rummaging through the large basket before carefully pulling out the items he had requested—pieces of smoked glass, a small wooden frame, and a rolled parchment with intricate sketches.

As she placed them on the blanket, she shot him a puzzled look. "I still don't understand how this will let us see the eclipse safely."

Claude took the frame, inspecting it. "Watch closely," he replied.

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"There!"

Claude swiped his hands together, his gaze fixed on the device before him.

Before him stood his paper projection system. At its heart lay a small refracting telescope, carefully secured atop a wooden tripod, its brass body gleaming faintly under the waning sunlight.

A fine adjustment screw allowed him to tilt and steady the instrument, ensuring the lens remained fixed on the sky.

Behind the eyepiece, he had positioned a flat wooden panel, upon which a sheet of parchment was stretched taut. A small frame secured the parchment in place, preventing even the slightest flutter from the breeze.

A black cloth was draped around the sides, shielding the parchment from stray light and ensuring the projection would remain clear even as the eclipse progressed.

'This should allow me to at least visualize the eclipse…' Claude thought, his eyes never leaving the equipment. He had bought these from the same store he had visited prior, Hawthorne & Sons—Purveyors of Fine Instruments.

Today was The Day of the Black Sun, and he had no intention of letting it pass unobserved.

Back in Francia, he had experienced partial eclipses before—brief moments where the sun had been nibbled away by the moon's shadow, turning daylight into a dim, eerie glow.

But a total eclipse? That was something he had never experienced.

'I wonder how different this will be from those in my memories…' His thoughts whirled, but his eyes remained fixed on the system, waiting. 'And, is The Heaven Bleed a mere fairy tale...?'

After all, if Avalon did once exist as he believed, then that would also indicate that The Heaven Bleed was by no means a fairy tale.

As the telescope directed sunlight onto the parchment, he saw it—a perfect, bright circle, the unblemished face of the sun. But soon, a shadow crept onto its edge. A small, dark bite appeared at the rim, steadily growing.

His fingers twitched.

"Master!"

Evelyn's voice rang out from nearby. "It—The Black Sun! It's coming!"

Her cry was followed by a sudden dimming of the world.

A thick, inky shroud spread across the sky, swallowing the daylight piece by piece. The warmth of the sun faltered, replaced by an unsettling coolness.

The wind stilled. The world seemed to hold its breath.

Claude's eyes darted to the parchment projection.

The sun—once a brilliant disk—was now a shrinking crescent, its edges dissolving into darkness. The last sliver of light winked out, replaced by an eerie black void, perfectly round and surrounded by a ghostly silver halo.

The corona. A ring of fire burning in the heavens. For the first time in his life, Claude beheld the totality of an eclipse.

However, what Claude felt seeing this was by no means joy.

Nor did he feel satisfaction. 

To Claude, everything seemed to still—as though the world itself had drawn in a breath and refused to exhale.

For a fleeting moment, nature stood in silent reverence, basking in the celestial spectacle.

The air was cool, the land dark, and the sky crowned with a faint ring of fire. The world revelled in this miraculous event.

But Claude felt something else.

A pressure.

Faint at first—like the whisper of a breeze against his skin. Almost illusory. But with every passing second, it grew. It slithered through his bones, coiled around his heart, and sank its claws into the very fabric of his soul.

Every instinct in his body screamed.

It was a premonition of dread. A rising tide of terror.

He turned to Evelyn.

She stood beside him, motionless, her gaze fixed on the parchment projection. Unaware. Unaffected. Awe shimmered in her wide eyes, reflecting the corona of the eclipse.

'Why…?'

Claude felt as if his limbs were bound, locked in place by some unseen force. A tightening grip—a vice around his very being.

'Why am I the only one feeling this? Is it me alone? If not, why does Evelyn seem untouched…?'

Then—

A shift in the sky.

A break in the silence.

Crimson.

A jagged tear cracked open in the heavens, splitting apart like flesh beneath a blade.

The wound widened, bleeding an unholy red light across the sky. Scarlet tendrils seeped into the darkness, staining the total eclipse with an unnatural glow.

The eerie stillness was gone. A sense of foreboding consumed Claude.

The Heavens Bleed. No longer a fable, no longer a tale, no longer myth, nor a legend. The cataclysmic event had come in all its unholy glory.

It had come.