Chapter 4: The Letter

The woods were alive with whispers. 

Erin sprinted through the trees, their gnarled branches clawing at the moonless sky like skeletal fingers.

The air hung thick with the stench of rotting leaves and damp earth, every breath tasting of decay. Shadows pooled at his feet, swallowing the forest floor whole, and the darkness pressed against him like a suffocating cloak. Behind him, the cacophony of snapping twigs crescendoed—a thousand unseen footsteps pounding in unison, closing in. His lungs burned, his legs screaming as he pushed them harder, faster. 

"Don't stop. Don't look back."

But the forest had other plans. 

A root snaked across his path, and Erin stumbled, crashing into the loamy soil. The footsteps halted. Silence. 

Then, a guttural panting echoed through the trees, rhythmic and wet, like a beast lapping at blood. Slowly, Erin turned. 

Two crimson eyes glowed in the void, unblinking, their light cutting through the blackness like twin blades. They fixed on him, pinning him to the earth. The creature's growl vibrated in his bones, but when it spoke, its voice was human—a hollow, broken rasp that scraped against his soul. 

"Gravedigger… free me…"

Erin scrambled backward, his hands sinking into cold mud. The eyes blinked once, then vanished. 

***

Erin jolted awake, his scream lodged in his throat. 

Pale morning light filtered through the cracks in the shack's walls, painting faint stripes on the dirt floor. He sat up, drenched in sweat, his heart hammering against his ribs. The dream clung to him—the red eyes, the voice, the suffocating dread. 

"What… was that?" he muttered, scrubbing his face with trembling hands. 

Aria stood by the door, already dressed in her academy uniform—a faded gray tunic patched at the elbows, her hair braided tightly to hide the split ends. She glanced at him, her amber eyes sharp. "You look like you fought a ghost. Bad night?" 

Erin forced a laugh, though his throat felt raw. "Just… a weird dream." 

She tossed him a crust of bread from the dwindling pantry. "Eat. You're skinnier than Dad's shovel." 

He caught it, the bread stale and crumbly, but didn't complain. "Be careful today," he said, standing to pull her into a hug. She stiffened, as she always did, but didn't pull away. "Stay clear of trouble. And… don't talk to boys. Most have bad intentions." 

Aria rolled her eyes, though a smirk tugged at her lips. "Not all guys are bad. Not that I'd know—I don't have friends, remember? You're all I've got, bro." 

Erin ruffled her hair, earning a swat. "Now get going. You'll be late." 

"You should be getting ready," she shot back, slinging her threadbare satchel over her shoulder. "Today's the day you join the Vigil." 

He shrugged, the nightmare still coiled in his gut. "you don't know that" he smiles. "But we should… brace for the worst." 

"Always the optimist." She smirked, stepping into the brittle morning light. "Stay careful, okay?" 

The door creaked shut behind her. 

Erin moved to lock the door, his fingers brushing something cold and smooth wedged into the frame. 

A white envelope. 

The Vigil's emblem—a lantern crossed with a spear—was stamped into the wax seal, its edges frayed as though hastily opened and resealed. His name scrawled across the front in jagged ink—ERIN. 

His breath hitched. For a moment, the world narrowed to the weight of the envelope in his hands. He tore it open, his heart pounding. 

Inside, a single sheet of parchment. 

"Words"

Rows of them, precise and looping, dancing across the page like symbols from another world. Erin stared, his chest tightening. The letters blurred, taunting him. He couldn't read. 

"Aria!" he shouted, bolting to the door. But the road outside was empty, dust swirling in the wake of her departure. 

"Damn it, what should I do?" he muttered, crumpling the letter in his fist. "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!" He'd been so focused on surviving, he'd never considered this—the Vigil's reply, written in a language as foreign to him as magic. 

He tossed the envelope onto the cot, his earlier hope curdling into frustration.

"Don't go...just wait, wait until she's back. Just… wait."

"And for the meantime, I should go hustle for tonight's meal".

***

The Northern boundary reeked of death. 

Erin trudged through the mud, his shovel slung over his shoulder, the stench of rotting demon carcasses clawing at his throat. The job was simple— haul the remains to the pyre pits. Three copper marks per corpse. Enough for bread. Maybe even a candle for Aria to study by. 

He gripped his shovel, its handle worn smooth from years of graves and labor, and plunged it into the first carcass. The demon's flesh was leathery and cold, its black blood oozing like tar. Its eyes, glassy and clouded, seemed to follow him as he dragged it toward the cart. 

"Gravedigger…"

Erin froze. The voice—the same voice from his dream—whispered through the trees. 

He spun, shovel raised, but the forest was still. Only the crows watched him, their beady eyes glinting from skeletal branches. 

"Get a grip," he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. 

But the voice lingered, slithering into his thoughts as he worked. 

"Free me…"

By midday, the cart overflowed with demon corpses, their twisted limbs jutting out like broken puppets. Erin's arms burned, his tunic soaked with sweat and black blood. He leaned against the cart, gulping water from a cracked flask, when the foreman approached—a hulking man with a scarred face and a permanent scowl. 

"Payment," the man grunted, tossing three copper marks into the mud. 

Erin knelt to retrieve them, the coins cold against his palm. "Enough for tonight. Enough to keep Aria fed."

As he stood, the foreman's gaze lingered on the pendant around Erin's neck—the jagged crimson stone his father had given him. "Heard you took the test," he sneered. "Waste of time. The Vigil's for nobles and fools." 

Erin clenched the coins tighter. "Maybe." 

The foreman spat. "You'll be back here tomorrow. Mark my words." 

***

The sun dipped low, staining the sky blood-red as Erin walked back to the shack. The Northern winds bit at his face, carrying the faint howl of distant beasts. He thought of Aria—her laughter, her stubbornness, the way her eyes lit up when she solved a problem in her books. "She deserves better than this"

The shack came into view, its crooked frame leaning against the endless gray of the Northern plains. No lights glowed inside. Aria wouldn't be back for hours. 

He stepped inside, the door groaning on its hinges, and froze. 

The envelope lay on the cot, untouched. 

For a moment, he considered going to the Virgil's Barracks, but he wondered —what if the letter is to inform him that he failed? What if going there would only cause him trouble? It's clear to him that not everyone liked him...of course he is the gravedigger and nobody wants to hang around with a gravedigger— "I should just hold on a little longer, Aria will be back soon"

He picked it up, tracing the Vigil's emblem with his thumb. 

***

Night fell, heavy and silent.

Erin sat by the hearth, the letter clutched in his hands, its words still a mystery. A clear expression of worried etched on his face, Aria Is not back from school yet, even though she's only three minutes late, Erin is clearly worried. "what's taking her so long? She should be back three minutes ago"

The fire crackled, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Outside, the wind moaned, carrying with it a whisper— "Gravedigger…"

His head snapped up. 

The voice. —it's voice

"You can't ignore me forever…"

Erin stood, shovel in hand, and peered through the cracks in the door. The Northern plains stretched endlessly, bathed in moonlight. Nothing moved. 

But the voice came again, closer now, seeping through the walls: 

"Free me..."

Slowly the door knob starts to turn and the door creaked open