Chapter I: Promise

Crimson. Fog.

Thick. Cloying. Reeking of copper and charred meat.

Limbs scattered. Viscera smeared across shattered blades and splintered bone. A graveyard carpeted in butchered flesh.

Hunger uncurled in my guts. Gnawing. Relentless. I scented the air - blood and offal heavy on my tongue.

Closer. Nearer.

Movement through the soupy murk. A twitching form, ravaged but not yet lifeless.

Prey.

I pounced, jaws unhinging to receive my bounty. Meat gave way between my teeth, tendons parting with muffled pops. Wet heat flooded my maw as I tore and rent, bone splintering under the savage grinding of my jaws.

Feast. Glut. Gorge.

The cravings roared through me, an inferno of mindless hunger that demanded fuel. More. Always more.

I wallowed in the kill, let the ichor soak into my matted fur as I gnashed and glutted and defiled. My prey's death agonies were mere white noise drowned beneath the thunder of my rapacious greed.

When the spasms at last subsided, I reared back - muzzle slick, belly swollen, eyes glassy with sanguine euphoria. Only then did I take true stock of my surroundings.

The fog hung thick, but I could make out the vague silhouettes of my rampage. Tattered remnants of uniforms and armor, the sad markers of the dead. A debased ossuary scattered across the killing ground.

I should have felt revulsion. Guilt. Shame at the ruination I had wrought, the gluttonous despoiling of friend and foe alike.

Instead, a feral sort of pride swelled in my breast. I had culled the weak, taken my fill of their yielded flesh as was my right. The victor's spoils.

My bulk shifted, rolls of densely-muscled haunches gathering beneath me as I prepared to move on. There would be other battlefields to reap, other carcasses ripe for harvesting.

That was when the movement caught my eye - a twitching shape struggling to rise through the carmine murk.

I froze, every sense suddenly hyper-alert as the hunger flared anew. My nostrils flared, drinking in the scent of its fear-sweat and the tang of fresh blood.

A low growl rumbled from my depths, equal parts challenge and anticipation. Whatever this new prey was, it would soon be just another offering laid at the altar of my gluttony.

The shape resolves itself - a small, battered figure clawing its way upright through the jumbled remains of the dead. No, not just any prey...this was the hunter that had felled so many of these pathetic weaklings in the first place.

And now it would become the hunted.

I tensed, coiling tight for the charge as a crimson haze of exhilaration clouded my vision. This was the prize I had been seeking, the ultimate quarry! To take this one, to reduce them to scraps and soil as I had the rest…

It sensed me then, twisting to face me with startling alacrity despite its mangled state. Those eyes - wide and wild and glittering with feral terror - bored into me from beneath the lank tangle of gore-slicked hair.

I drank in its fear, savored the pheromones of raw panic gusting off of it in waves. Oh, how its anguish would season the meat, how sweetly its desperate struggles would play across my palate before I-

"Anja! Anja, wake up!"

The words were strange, alien...but familiar enough to penetrate the fog of my bloodlust. To lodge themselves in the primitive core of my being like barbs.

Reality reasserted itself in a visceral rush, the tide of sanguine rapture receding to reveal a bone-chilling tableau.

There, mere feet away, lay...myself. Broken and defiled, body ravaged by brutal gouges and missing half a face. The shattered ruin of my features was frozen in a perpetual rictus of shock and agony, one eye and cheek torn away to expose the glistening ruin beneath.

Yet despite the pulped remains of my skull, that single remaining eye somehow found mine in the gloom - round and green and glistening with tears of mortal terror.

"Please...help me…"

The whispered plea roused something deeper than revulsion, something that reverberated in my very marrow like the knell of doom.

I was the one who had done this.

Savaged my own body, butchered my own flesh in a grotesque pantomime of my savage hungers. A vile, cannibalistic rite that mocked every notion of sanity or humanity.

A scream of pure, unvarnished anguish built in my throat, a howl of self-loathing so visceral it threatened to unmake me. To unmake everything I thought I knew about myself and the world around me.

But before that scream could claw its way free, ripping me asunder from the inside out…​

...

Anja's eyes snapped open, her body drenched in a cold sweat. Her heart thundered in her ears as images from the nightmare flashed through her mind - blood, viscera, the sickening crunch of bone giving way beneath her hands.

She sucked in a shuddering breath, frantically blinking away the remnants of the dream. Just a nightmare, she told herself firmly. Only a nightmare.

Anja shivered, pushing aside the sweat-soaked sheets and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She flexed her hands, studying the pale skin and unmarred knuckles as if expecting to see them coated in blood.

What was happening to her? These dreams, these nightmares of savagery and slaughter...they had been growing more frequent, more vivid with each passing night. Leaving her shaken and disoriented in a way she couldn't explain.

Perhaps it was just the stress of living in the ever-present shadow of the Titans...

She shook the thought, just another nightmare to add to the pile, better forgotten.

The 10-year-old girl yawned and stretched before leaping out of bed, her vibrant green eyes already sharpening with an unnatural intensity.

She quickly donned her favorite dress and began braiding her long auburn hair. Her gaze drifted to the childish drawings adorning her walls, depicting her and her brother, Heinrik, as stick figures holding hands and smiling. One sketch in the corner showed the two combatants brandishing crude, exaggerated swords, frozen in sword-locked battle stances.

"Anja! Sweetie, breakfast is ready!" her mother's voice rang out from the kitchen below, warm and inviting.

"Coming, Mom!" Anja called back, a grin spreading across her face. With a last glance at the drawing of Heinrik, she scampered downstairs.

Her mother, Emma, stood by the kitchen table, her short auburn hair framing her careworn but lovely face. She greeted Anja with a soft smile, though her blue eyes held a hint of worry as they flicked to the fresh nicks and gouges in the wooden doorframe - evidence of her daughter's "practice" sessions.

"Good morning, sleepyhead. Eat up before your food gets cold," Emma said, placing a gentle hand on Anja's shoulder as the girl slid into her seat.

Anja dug into her breakfast with gusto, her feet swinging beneath the table. Between bites, she chattered excitedly. "Heinrik's coming home today, right? I can't wait to show him how much I've improved with my swords!"

Her mother's smile turned a bit strained. "Anja, sweetie, we've talked about this. You need to be more careful when you're playing with those sticks."

"They're not sticks, Mom. They're swords," Anja corrected, a hint of exasperation in her voice.

Emma's gaze flicked to the doorframe, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "Ah, I see. And I suppose that poor door is meant to be a fearsome Titan, then?"

Anja grinned, nodding enthusiastically. "Yeah! I'm going to take it down, just like a real Scout!"

Emma chuckled, shaking her head. "Well, my little warrior, try not to slay the Titan too thoroughly, or it might stop opening for us." She reached out and tickled Anja's side, eliciting a giggle from the girl.

Anja squirmed away, laughing. "Mom, stop!"

She pulled Anja into a warm hug. "Just promise me you'll be gentler with the door from now on, okay? We don't want it to get any ideas about gobbling up little Scouts."

Anja nodded against her mother's shoulder, still giggling. "I promise."

Then she pulled back, brushing a hand over Anja's hair."Alright then, my brave girl. Finish your breakfast so you can go meet your brother."

Anja bobbed her head and dug into her food with renewed gusto, her feet swinging beneath the table. She swallowed and asked, "You're coming with me, right?"

A shadow passed over Emma's face, her smile faltering. "Why don't you go on ahead, Anja? I need to stay here and mind the shop."

Anja's brow furrowed. "Are you sure? I thought you'd want to see Heinrik as soon as possible."

Emma busied herself at the counter, avoiding her daughter's questioning gaze. "I'm sure, honey. Don't worry about me. You go and give your brother a big hug from me, okay?"

Though somewhat deflated, Anja gulped down the rest of her food, gave her mother a quick peck on the cheek, and hurried out into the bustling streets of Shiganshina. She wove through the crowds with practiced ease, her small form darting ever closer to the towering outer gate of Wall Maria.

"Hey Armin!" Anja called out, spotting a familiar blond boy sitting on a crate, his nose buried in a worn book.

Armin looked up, startled. "Oh hi Anja. What's got you in such a rush?"

"My brother's back from his expedition today! I'm heading to the gate. Wanna come?" she asked breathlessly.

"Thanks for the invite, but I'm really busy with this book at the moment," Armin replied with an apologetic smile. "But hey, remember the book that talks about the outside world? Maybe you could ask Heinrik if he saw anything like that on his expedition. Maybe this time they reached further."

Anja nodded excitedly. "Yeah, I remember! You're always talking about it. Sure, I'll ask him. See you later, Armin!"

Waving goodbye, she took off running again. And just like clockwork the bell tower rung, signaling their arrival. By the time she reached the crowd gathered at the foot of Wall Maria, the Survey Corps were already passing through the gate. Her eager smile faded as she took in the soldiers' slumped shoulders, downcast eyes, and tattered green cloaks spattered with blood.

Several rode with heavy bandaging, while others led a covered cart that undoubtedly carried the bodies of the fallen. The metallic scent of blood and sweat hung heavy in the air, mingling with the murmur of the crowd. For a moment, the nightmare flashed before Anja's eyes again - mangled bodies, glassy eyes, glistening viscera. She shook her head violently, banishing the gruesome image.

The crowd muttered and sneered as the disheartened soldiers passed.

"What a waste of lives and taxes."

"It's hopeless going out there."

"Serves 'em right for having a death wish."

​

Anja bit her lip hard as she sought Heinrik's face among the procession.

Then she spotted him, looking weary but whole. "Heinrik! Over here!" she cried, waving frantically.

Her brother glanced over, and his somber face broke into a wan but genuine smile. He guided his horse to the edge of the crowd. "Anja, I missed you, imp! Hope you haven't been giving Mom too much trouble in my absence," he teased gently, ruffling her hair.

As he spoke, Heinrik gently steered Anja away from the procession, his body blocking her view of the wounded soldiers and bloodied bandages. She tried to peek around him, curious about the commotion, but he kept a firm hand on her shoulder, guiding her towards the outskirts of the crowd.

As Heinrik spoke to his sister, a man with undercut black hair and a gelid gaze drifted over the crowd, his expression unreadable. For the briefest of moments, his eyes seemed to linger on Anja, a flicker of something like recognition passing over his features. But then it was gone, his face settling back into a stoic mask. She focused back on her brother.

"...I've been good, promise! But never mind that - what happened out there? You all look so sad and hurt," Anja asked, worry creasing her brow.

Heinrik's smile faltered. "Ah well, you know... It's just hard having to turn back is all. Those Titans sure made us work for it this time. But don't you fret, we gave as good as we got!" He puffed his chest out with exaggerated bravado, eliciting a giggle from Anja.

Then his expression softened and he dismounted his horse, kneeling before his sister. "Listen, how about I stick around for a few days, spend some time with you and Mom? Dunno how long it'll be before I'm back in town again."

Anja beamed and hugged him tight. "Yes please!"

As Anja embraced her brother, she felt the familiar press of the pendant he always wore around his neck. It was a simple metal disk, weathered and scratched. For as long as she could remember, Heinrik had never been without it.

She stood rooted to the spot, her mind drifting to the last time her brother had been home, when he'd surprised her with a beautifully carved wooden sword. 'For my little warrior,' he'd said with a grin, ruffling her hair. 'Keep training hard, and one day you'll be even better than me.'

Anja had treasured that sword above all the others in her collection, practicing with it every day and dreaming of the moment she could stand beside her brother as a fellow Scout.

Just then, the dark-haired soldier approached, his posture ramrod straight despite his short stature. Her brother gestured at him. "Lieutenant, a word?"

The man nodded, and Heinrik turned back to Anja. "Gimme a sec, then we'll head home together." He stepped a few paces away to confer with his comrade.

Anja peered at the stern-faced man curiously. "Who's that?" she whispered when Heinrik returned.

"Oh, I think I told you about him before. That's Lieutenant Levi. He's saved my life more times than I can count. He's the strongest soldier in the whole Survey Corps," he told her, his eyes shining with respect.

She wrinkled her nose. "So that's Levi... I thought he'd be taller."

Heinrik laughed and tweaked her nose. "Don't let his size fool you. In the Survey Corps, it's not about your height, but your determination and skill. Lieutenant Levi has those in spades."

The siblings walked home arm-in-arm, Anja practically skipping in her excitement to have her brother back while Heinrik savored the sights and sounds of Shiganshina's peaceful streets. But as they neared their house, the lighthearted mood evaporated.

Their mother stood frozen in the doorway, one trembling hand pressed to her mouth. "Heinrik? Is it really you?"

He stepped forward, arms open in concern. "It's me, Mom. I'm alright, really-"

The rest of his assurance was cut off as Emma flew down the steps and threw her arms around him, openly weeping. "Oh, Heinrik! Thank the Walls you're safe! I've been worried sick. Is that a new scar? Oh why do you do this to me Heinrik..." she sobbed, clutching him like he might disappear if she let go.

Heinrik held her close, murmuring soothing words as he stroked her hair, while Anja shifted from foot to foot, both moved and discomfited by the raw display of emotion. After several long moments, Emma collected herself enough to shepherd them all inside, fussing over Heinrik's rumpled uniform and tired face.

The joyful reunion continued over dinner, though a palpable tension undercut the smiles and laughter. It finally came to a head when their mother asked in a falsely casual tone, "So, how long will you be home for this time?"

Heinrik winced and rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah, about that... I have to head back out tomorrow to rejoin my squad."

Emma's face drained of color. "What? But you just got here! Surely they can spare you for a few more days," she cried.

"Mom, you know this is what I signed up for," he replied heavily, bracing for the coming storm. Anja's eyes darted anxiously between them.

Emma's voice rose, tears welling up. "Signed up to throw your life away, you mean! Why are you so determined to end up dead or disappear, just like-" She cut herself off, pressing a hand to her mouth.

An uncomfortable silence fell.

Heinrik sighed, keeping his voice level. "That's not fair, Mom. I'm doing this to keep you safe, to keep everyone safe. My comrades are counting on me. I won't turn my back on them."

"And what about your family? Or do we not matter anymore?" Their mother asked, her voice trembling.

Anja couldn't bear it. She shoved her chair back with a clatter and fled to her room, their voices chasing her up the stairs. Flinging herself on her bed, she pulled her pillow over her head, trying in vain to block it all out. Hot tears leaked into the fabric. Why did they always have to fight?

Some time later, there was a soft knock at her door. She hastily dried her face on her sleeve and slipped beneath the covers, feigning sleep. The door creaked open and she heard Heinrik's footsteps approach. The mattress dipped as he perched on the edge of her bed.

He poked her side, chuckling when she squirmed. "C'mon imp, I know you're awake under there."

Anja poked her head out, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the lingering tension. She sat up, hugging her knees to her chest. "Heinrik? Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Anja. Anything."

She hesitated, chewing her lip. "My friend Armin, he's always talking about the outside world. About fiery water, lands of ice, and fields of sand. Is that... is that why you go out there? To see those things?"

Heinrik was quiet for a moment, considering his words. A shadow passed over his face, his eyes haunted. "That's part of it," he said at last, his voice strained. "But it's more than that. We go out there to learn, to understand, to get answers…" He trailed off, his gaze distant. "For all those who are no longer with us…"

"Do you think Dad might still be out there somewhere?" Anja asked, her voice small and hopeful.

Heinrik's jaw clenched, pain flickering in his eyes. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I have to try to find out. I need to know…"

Anja was silent, letting his words sink in. Then, in a trembling whisper, she asked, "But what if... what if the same thing happens to you? What if you disappear too? Or…"

Heinrik pulled her into a fierce hug, cutting off her words. "That will never happen," he said fiercely, his voice rough with emotion. "I will always come back to you and Mom, I promise."

Anja clung to him, relief and fear warring in her chest. She wanted to believe him, needed to believe him. But a small, insidious doubt had taken root, fed by her mother's tears and the haunted look in her brother's eyes.

Heinrik ruffled her hair, offering a strained smile. "Don't worry, imp." Gently, he tucked her back into bed and smoothed the covers. As he made to leave, Anja's hand shot out, grasping his sleeve.

"Heinrik… Would you stay a little longer?" Her eyes were wide and pleading, a glimmer of fear in their green depths.

Heinrik's brow furrowed. He sat back down on the edge of the bed. "Everything alright?"

Anja hesitated, then whispered, "I'm scared. Of the nightmares. They're getting worse…"

Understanding dawned on Heinrik's face, mingled with a flicker of unease. Forcing a reassuring smile, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind Anja's ear.

"I see. How about a story then? Dad used to tell me this one. Might help keep your mind off of it."

Anja nodded, snuggling deeper into her blankets. Heinrik's voice washed over her, low and soothing.

"There was once a wolf pup, who was very lonely. While his brothers and sisters found homes and joined great packs, the pup was shunned.

No matter where he went, he drove others away. The little wolf's heart ached as seasons passed by and the loneliness remained. For many turns of the moon, he journeyed far and wide, desperately hoping to find a kindly soul to walk by his side.

He happened upon birds, bears, even the peaceful herds of deer - but as soon as they sensed the pup's approach, they fled in mindless fear. With each stinging rejection, his despair deepened.

'Am I fated to be alone?' he howled. 'What evil did I do to deserve such a burden?'"

Heinrik's voice began to fade as Anja drifted off, her eyelids growing heavy. The last thing she felt was the gentle press of his lips against her forehead and his whispered words, "Sweet dreams, little sister. I love you."

Anja slipped into slumber, the tale echoing in her mind.