Cursed Night

That night, the sky of the Middle Trunk was filled with the pale light of the moon, piercing through the gaps of the giant roots of Yggraeth's World Tree. The village of Lynden appeared peaceful—the sounds of crickets and the river that divided the village into two forming the soothing music of the night.

The orphans in the small church had long fallen asleep, their tiny bodies wrapped in warmth they rarely felt in this world.

Aren sat on the windowsill of his room, his chin resting on his knees. The night air bit into his skin, but he didn't care. His eyes were fixed on the moon that hung high among the Canopy of the World Tree.

The strangely shaped metal pendant he always wore reflected the faint silver light, hanging around his neck as if it were the only reminder of his empty past.

Outside, massive roots dangled like sleeping serpents, forming natural walls that protected the village. People always said they were safe here, far from the frontlines and far from the Hellroot Seal buried underground.

But Aren could never truly believe those words.

Every time he felt the faint pulse of the rune mark on the back of his left hand, this peace seemed like a fragile illusion.

From below, soft laughter crept into his room. Lyra, Finn, and Marin had not yet gone to bed. They sat in the churchyard, chatting as they gazed at the night sky. Aren jumped down and approached them.

"You're not sleeping either?" Lyra asked, grinning as she patted the empty spot beside her.

Aren sat, pulling his knees to his chest. "Can't sleep. Too many thoughts."

Finn nudged his shoulder. "Thoughts like 'how to beat Finn tomorrow in the root-climbing race'?"

Aren gave him a lazy look. "I don't need to think about that. I'll definitely win."

Marin only gave a faint smile, as usual. She rarely spoke, but her sharp eyes always seemed to be observing everything.

For a moment, they just sat there, listening to the sounds of the night. Lyra's soft laughter finally broke the silence.

"You know… sometimes I wish nights like this could last forever. No training, no scary stories about demons, just… us."

Aren nodded slightly, but something inside him resisted.

Tonight felt… different.

The pulse in his left hand was a little stronger than usual, almost like a warning. He gripped his pendant tightly, the cold metal biting into his palm.

In the distance, the night wind carried a faint smell of metal and sulfur.

Aren lifted his head, his heart beating faster for no clear reason.

"What is that smell…?" he whispered softly.

Lyra frowned, trying to catch the scent. "I don't smell anything."

Finn stood, staring toward the forest. "Maybe just a dead animal. Let's go in before Sister Elena scolds us."

They rose slowly and walked back to the church.

Aren glanced once more at the dark forest beyond. For an instant, he thought he saw a faint red glow among the trees—like eyes watching from the darkness.

He blinked, and the glow was gone.

A cold shiver ran down his back. The pulse in his hand grew sharper, almost painful.

He clenched it, trying to drive away the unexplainable unease.

But like the whispers of the night, something deep beneath the earth had begun to awaken.

---

The night's silence shattered with an explosion. The ground shook, followed by the first scream tearing through the air.

Flames suddenly engulfed the wooden houses at the edge of the village, coloring the sky with an ominous orange glow.

From the darkness of the forest, they emerged—massive shadows with blazing red eyes, scaly skin, and long fangs gleaming in the firelight.

Demons.

The peaceful village of Lynden turned into hell in an instant. Villagers awoke in panic, running in all directions for safety, but every scream only drew more of the creatures. The stench of blood and sulfur filled the air.

Aren jolted awake, his heart pounding violently. Through the window, he saw fire devouring everything, monstrous silhouettes tearing through it all.

"No…" his breath caught.

His door burst open.

Lyra stood in the doorway, her face pale. "Aren! We have to go!"

They ran through the corridors of the church.

Finn and Marin were already waiting in the main hall with Sister Elena and the other children.

Elena's face was tense, but her eyes remained calm. "To the basement, quickly!" she shouted.

But the front door was smashed open, the wood splintering into pieces.

A horned demon grinned, blood dripping from its claws. The children screamed.

Finn pulled Marin behind him, while Aren stood frozen, his body trembling.

The mark on his hand throbbed wildly, a searing pain.

Elena pulled Aren back. "Aren! Don't look!"

The demon roared and lunged. Elena raised her iron staff, but the creature's strike sent her crashing across the hall.

Children scattered in terror as more demons broke through the windows.

The church that had been their home became a place of slaughter.

Aren, Lyra, Finn, and Marin were cornered in the far end of the hall. Blood was splattered across the floor, the air heavy with smoke and the metallic stench of blood.

A demon crept closer, its split jaws revealing rows of jagged teeth.

Finn shoved Aren back. "Run, Aren!"

"I won't leave you!" Aren cried, tears filling his eyes.

Lyra grasped his hand tightly. "If you survive… don't forget us, okay?"

Marin only looked at Aren, her eyes filled with unspoken words, before her body was struck by another demon's claws. Blood splattered, and Marin's scream was swallowed by the chaos.

Finn tried to attack with a broken iron bar, but the demon seized him and threw him against the wall.

Lyra screamed as her body was flung aside by another beast.

Aren stood frozen, the world slowing around him.

Sister Elena crawled toward him, her face covered in blood.

"Aren… run…" she whispered before demon claws pierced her chest.

Her final smile faded, leaving Aren alone amidst a sea of fire and blood.

Aren collapsed to his knees, his body trembling uncontrollably. The world blurred around him, filled with roars and the demons' laughter.

The mark on his left hand pulsed more violently, burning with unbearable heat.

Why…? he thought. Why now? Why not earlier, when they were still alive?!

A burst of black energy erupted from the mark, swallowing the surrounding demons.

The creatures shrieked as their bodies were drawn into the swirling darkness, their souls imprisoned.

Aren felt a foreign power flooding into him, yet there was no sense of triumph—only emptiness and rage.

He stood amidst the destruction, his body drenched in blood not all his own. His breathing ragged, his empty gaze fell upon the lifeless bodies of his friends.

"Too late…" he whispered, his voice barely audible in the sudden silence.

"Why… only now…?"

Dawn broke, bathing the ruins of Lynden in golden light. Smoke still rose from the charred remains, the air thick with the smell of blood and death.

Aren stood among the wreckage of the church, his metal pendant stained with blood, his hand gripping the mark that had fallen silent once more.

Around him lay only corpses—Sister Elena, the orphans, Lyra, Finn, and Marin.

The world he had known had vanished in a single night.

Guilt crashed over him like a storm.

This mark, this power… why had it awakened only after everyone was gone?

Why was he the only one left alive?

The morning wind carried ashes and fragments of memories.

Something inside Aren broke—not just grief, but something deeper, darker.

A silent vow etched itself into every fiber of his being: this would not end here.

He lifted his gaze to the horizon touched by the morning light, his crimson eyes now filled with fury.

"I'll find you," he whispered, "and I'll make them pay… for every drop of blood."

Beneath the rising sun, Aren stood alone—the sole living witness to The Night of Blood, the night his world ended and his hatred was born.