Whispers Beneath the Ashes

The knight's boots thudded softly on the forest floor, damp with morning dew and silent regret. His short, dark brown hair clung to his forehead with sweat, and his sharp green eyes flicked warily behind him. He could feel it—someone was following him.

He suddenly turned around, his hand already on the dagger at his waist.

"Why are you following me?" he asked, his voice low and tense.

Behind him stood a woman with wavy silver hair that shimmered like moonlight, tied loosely behind her shoulders. Her violet eyes sparkled with mischief beneath her dark cloak.

"I'm not following you," she replied cheerfully, hands raised in mock innocence. "My path just happens to be this way."

He didn't lower his weapon. Instead, he stepped closer, his expression darkening.

"You may have saved me," he said, voice like steel, "but if you're a spy, or something worse…"

The dagger gleamed as he raised it slightly.

But she only laughed lightly.

"Honestly," she said, tapping her finger on his forehead. "Don't be such an idiot. I'm from the School of Magic, you know."

She walked past him as if she hadn't just dropped a bomb on his world.

His eyes widened.

The School of Magic?

That name was whispered with fear and awe.

He turned to follow her, voice sharp with disbelief.

"You're lying. The School of Magic is in the Kingdom of erovan!"

She only smiled, eyes still glowing faintly with that eerie magical light.

He stopped for a heartbeat.

Only a few… only a few ever made it through that place alive…

And I… I just met one of them?

He swallowed, suddenly unsure of himself, then kept walking behind her.

As they moved together through the thinning trees, he glanced her way again.

"If you truly are who you say…" he began.

"Of course I am~" she interrupted with a light laugh.

"Then what are you doing here, away from your kingdom?"

She grinned, eyes full of a strange, distant light.

"Trying to save the world."

He blinked, baffled.

"Save the world? What are you talking about?"

She twirled lightly as she walked.

"Why would I tell you, hmm?"

He scowled. "You act like a child."

She stopped walking, turned toward him, and her expression shifted. Still smiling—but with something sharp behind it.

"Why would I tell you?" she asked again, voice softer, darker. "You're just a regular knight… no magic… what could you possibly do?"

And with that, she turned her back on him and kept walking.

—

Elsewhere, hidden deep beneath roots and shadows, a small girl huddled inside a hole carved into the base of a hill. Her large eyes, the color of amber, peeked out from the dark. Butterfly wings—soft and glowing with pastel purples and pinks—trembled on her back. Her long yellow hair was tangled, and her pale face was streaked with dirt.

"They're finally gone," she whispered.

She crawled out and fluttered her wings weakly, floating above the burrow. Inside, a boy—about eighteen—remained curled up, his butterfly wings crumpled. Tears streamed down his cheeks, though he tried to stay silent.

She hovered beside him and whispered, "They're gone now, Taylen."

The boy slowly flew up beside her, and when his golden eyes caught sight of the carnage below—the scattered wings, blood-soaked leaves, and burned bodies of their kin—he let out a trembling gasp.

Tears burst forth again, his voice breaking.

"Why… why are we so weak…?! Why couldn't I protect her…?! My mother—!"

His whole body shook with grief. The girl dropped to his level, wrapping her arms around him, wings quivering as she wept beside him.

—

Far away, Rosiela trudged through the woods, carrying her younger brother Arian in her arms. Her long black hair clung to her face, and her pale green eyes flicked anxiously through the trees. Behind her walked Aziel, tall and silent, carrying the unconscious Elanor over his shoulder. Rosiela looked so fragile—too fragile for the horrors she had escaped.

Finally, the mouth of a cave appeared. Rosiela hurried inside, gently laying her brother on a bed of moss. Aziel followed, placing Elanor beside him.

The sun had begun to rise, casting golden light across the cave's rocky walls. Rosiela sat down, brushing her hair back with a tired sigh.

Then she turned to Aziel, voice quiet but urgent.

"You need to leave."

He blinked. "What?"

"You have to go. The villagers won't leave us alone. They'll hurt you… and I can't let that happen."

He knelt beside her, dark hair falling over his eyes. "Don't worry about me. I can handle it."

She hesitated, then glanced toward the unconscious Elanor.

" she just wanted to protect us…" she murmured. "But please… don't tell her what happened. She'll wake up soon. Don't mention anything."

He frowned. "She doesn't remember…?"

Rosiela nodded faintly. "She won't. And I'll find a way to explain… somehow."

The cave fell silent again, except for the quiet breath of the sleeping children and the faint rustle of wind outside—carrying with it the scent of ash and blood and something far more ancient.