The fine rain fell upon the wet earth, turning the forest floor into mud. The day was about to die, tinted by a gray sunset, hiding behind clouds as heavy as mourning.
Jin walked aimlessly, his feet sinking into the ground, his body hunched as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. The broken dagger from his mother hung loosely in his hand, dragging in the mud, like an echo of everything he had lost.
Then, voices emerged from the trees.
Laughter.
— Hey, hey... look what we have here.
Five men in worn armor and hard eyes surrounded Jin. They looked as if they had faced battles, but their expressions carried no honor—only contempt. One of them, with a scar on his face and a mace strapped to his back, pointed at the boy.
— Is this the demon? — he spat on the ground. — They say the village of Eres was swallowed by a monster... and this is all that's left?
Jin didn't answer. He just lifted his empty eyes. No fear. No anger. No soul.
— Look at his eyes... it's like staring into a bottomless pit. I'm telling you, this thing isn't human.
— I bet he's got the devil inside him — another murmured. — Let's finish him off before he brings misfortune here too.
And then, the blows came.
First, a kick to the stomach. Jin fell, mud splattering on his emotionless face. Then came the punches, the kicks, the laughter. His mother's dagger fell to the ground with a dull thud.
But he didn't scream.
He didn't defend himself.
He just felt the weight. The weight he deserved.
> "If I had been stronger…"
"If I had run… fought…"
"They would still be alive…"
— Don't you feel anything? — one of the men said, punching his face. — No pain, no fear? What kind of monster are you?
The blood mixed with the mud. Jin spit out red, but made no sound.
Then, a voice echoed through the trees:
— Is this what you call courage? Beating up a child? — said a calm, but powerfully silent, female voice.
The men turned.
From the shadows of the forest, a group of four people emerged, silent as the wind before a storm.
The one who spoke was tall and thin, with silver hair tied back. Her golden eyes — calm, deep — stared at the men as if they were beneath her dignity.
Kaellia, half-human, half-fairy. Leader of the group. Her presence was like mist over the field: subtle, but impossible to ignore.
— He's a monster, ma'am... — said one of the aggressors. — We're just doing what's right.
— And what is his crime, then? — asked Allan, stepping in from the right. His muscles looked like they were carved from stone, the giant sword resting on his shoulder. His red eyes flared. — Cowardice?
Beside him, a girl with bright blue hair and emerald eyes ran to Jin, kneeling beside him as tears welled up in her eyes.
Lyn, the healer. Too young for this world, but with a heart more mature than any man there.
— Oh my God... — she whispered, running her fingers over the boy's bruised face. — A child his age should be running and playing… not covered in scars...
Lastly, a figure stood silently, in the shadow of a tree.
Saphira.
Her hair was dark blue, almost black, like Jin's. Her blue eyes shimmered with a pain she couldn't even understand. She seemed to be the same age as him. And even without knowing him, she felt as if something inside her was connected to this fallen boy.
— I've seen enough. — said Kaellia. — Leave. Now. Or kneel for the last time.
The men didn't dare to question her. They recoiled like rats before wolves and vanished.
Kaellia knelt beside Lyn and touched Jin's face, which was now breathing irregularly. The seal on his chest pulsed like a living wound.
— He... he's not even trying to live... — said Lyn, crying. — It's like he's given up.
Jin lifted his eyes for a moment, just one.
He locked eyes with Saphira.
One second.
Two.
And then, he passed out.
Allan picked him up in his arms, as if carrying a fragile relic.
— Let's take him to the camp.
Kaellia nodded.
— Maybe there's still something in him that can be saved.
As they moved away from the clearing, the rain grew heavier.
The drops washed the blood from the earth.
But not the pain.
And behind them, in the mud, the broken dagger of his mother lay for a moment — until Saphira picked it up carefully, holding it to her chest like a promise.
The emotionless boy had been found.
But he was still not saved.
For days, the group traveled through the dense forest towards the capital. Jin was carefully carried, sometimes in Allan's arms, sometimes in a small cart hastily made by Lyn and Saphira. The silence around him was almost sacred. Each stop to set up camp was marked by uneasy glances.
— He doesn't speak... doesn't move... doesn't even seem to breathe properly — Lyn remarked one night as she checked his bandages. — It's like taking care of a porcelain doll cracked inside.
Saphira stayed by Jin's side whenever she could, watching him like someone trying to decipher a dead language.
Kaellia kept the group moving, but sometimes, when she looked at the boy, her golden eyes lost their usual calm.
— There's a war inside him — she said one time, while Allan sharpened his sword by the fire. — And we can only wait to see who will win.
---
Somewhere Between Life and Death...
Jin found himself standing. In a black field, with no ground, no sky. Just emptiness.
— Finally awake, little vessel.
The voice came like thunder, but also like a whisper inside his skull. Before him, a gigantic form rose, cloaked in shadows that writhed like snakes.
Bouros.
His red eyes glowed, his body seemed made of fragments of bones and living flesh, shaped by hatred.
— I expected more from the boy who dared to seal me. — he said, stepping forward. — But instead, I got a walking corpse with empty eyes. A wonderful joke!
Jin didn't respond. He couldn't. His body didn't react, but his consciousness burned with the demon's presence.
— Don't worry. I'm a good guest. — Bouros tilted his head, sarcastic. — So... as a thank you, I'll return something to you.
Jin felt a sudden heat in his chest. Like needles piercing from the inside out.
— Resentment. Guilt. Anguish. — Bouros licked his teeth as if tasting each word. — You'll feel that until your last breath. Because a monster like you deserves to remember. Deserves to suffer.
His voice became lower. More cruel.
— You sealed a demon... but you also sealed what was human in you. Now, carry me like a living scar. And believe me... — he leaned in, too close — I'm still here.
The darkness began to crumble around Jin. And then, a new light appeared. Soft. Warm.
Bouros recoiled as if something repelled him.
— She's coming... tsk. What a melodramatic farce.
The light grew and enveloped Jin, pushing the shadows away. And then, from the center of that light, his mother appeared.
She wore simple clothes. Her hair still tied in braids, her eyes as sweet as he always remembered. She smiled.
— Hi, my love.
Jin dropped to his knees. Tears ran down his face, but he couldn't feel them. He just saw them.
— Mother...
She hugged him, and for the first time in a long time, Jin felt warmth. Something beyond the cold of the seal.
— I've missed you so much...
— I know. I've always been here — she replied, caressing his hair. — Even when you couldn't feel me.
Jin looked up at her, confused.
— Why... why did this happen to me?
She hesitated. And then spoke, with tenderness, but firmness.
— Because you carry within you a power that many would wish to destroy. The power to command the dead. Those who have gone... you can call them back, guide them like a conductor before an orchestra. This is your gift.
— Maestro... of the Dead...?
— It's a burden, Jin. But also a blessing. You're not condemned to be a weapon... unless you believe you are.
He lowered his head.
— I killed... they all died... because of me. I couldn't save them. I don't deserve this.
She held his face. Her eyes were misty.
— You did what you could. And you're still here. And one day... you'll understand why.
The light around her began to fade. She squeezed his hand.
— When everything seems lost... I will be with you. Always.
Even if you don't see me. Even if you don't hear me.
I will protect you, when you need me most.
— I promise.
Jin tried to hold the light, but it broke into golden sparks around him.
Back to the real world...
The sun filtered through the tall trees, casting golden beams across the camp's ground. The air was humid, carrying the smell of earth and leaves freshly wet by the rain the night before.
The dark-haired boy slowly opened his eyes.
His gaze was still the same: empty, deep, like an abyss that swallowed any attempt of light.
The sound of birds in the distance, the murmur of low voices, the crackling of the fire. Everything seemed distant. Unreal. As if he were still in that place between life and death.
But he wasn't.
He was here.
Alive.
Sitting on an improvised bed of blankets and dry cloths, he slowly lifted his body. And then he felt it.
Something was dripping on his face.
Wet.
He slowly brought his hand to his cheek, and when he touched it, he was startled.
Tears.
They slid down in silence. But his chest was hollow. There was no pain. No sadness.
He didn't feel anything.
And yet… he cried.
— S-someone! He's awake! — shouted Lyn, rushing to him. Her face showed relief, but also fear.
She stopped inches from him, watching in silence for a moment.
— You... are you okay?
He didn't answer.
His eyes were open, but they didn't seem to see anything.
Kaellia and Allan quickly approached. Saphira came last, almost breathless. Her gaze fixed on his tears.
— He's crying... — she murmured.
— But he doesn't seem sad... his face stays expressionless — Kaellia whispered, leaning carefully.
The boy just looked towards her, without saying a word.
Lyn knelt beside him.
— Hey... what's your name? Can you tell me your name?
Silence.
No sound came from his mouth. Not even a gesture. Just that deep... broken look.
— He... he doesn't even know who he is? — Allan asked, perplexed.
— Or maybe he just forgot how to speak to people — Kaellia answered, sadly.
Saphira crouched before him, trying to find something in his gaze. Something that might be buried deep within.
— You're safe now... okay? — she said with a light smile. — We won't hurt you.
Nothing.
But one single tear slid down again.
Lyn looked at his shoulders and arms — marks, bruises, scars still fresh.
She clenched her fists, trembling.
— At this size, and carrying scars that even the most experienced warriors don't have... scars like he's come back from hell...
Kaellia placed her hand on her shoulder.
— Maybe... he has.
They all fell silent for a few seconds.
The boy lowered his eyes. Something inside him burned. A memory? A sensation?
But it passed.
His face stayed expressionless.
No name. No word. No past.
And still, he was there.
A survivor.
Carrying the assassin of his own parents... in his heart... and the orchestra of death in his soul.