Blood Of the Forsaken

Rain lashed against the ruined shingles of the safehouse, each droplet a tiny drumbeat of warning. Inside, the fire cracked feebly in the hearth, barely illuminating the worn wooden walls and the silent tension between the three occupants.

Kairo sat cross-legged near the flames, his blade unsheathed and resting across his knees. Its obsidian edge shimmered with faint red veins—residual demonic energy from the last battle. He hadn't dared clean it yet. Not until he understood what had happened.

He could still see it clearly. The way his body had moved without command. The way the demon's throat had torn as if by invisible claws—not his blade. And the voice. That voice.

"You're not just human, boy. You never were."

His grip tightened on the hilt. Across from him, Aya leaned against the wall, her expression unreadable. Her left arm was tightly bandaged, blood still seeping through in dull patches. She hadn't spoken much since they escaped the marsh demon. Neither had Daiken, who now paced the far end of the room like a restless animal.

The silence stretched, thick and uneasy.

"You hesitated back there," Daiken finally said, his voice low but sharp. "That demon should have killed you. But it didn't. Why?"

Kairo didn't look up. "I don't know."

"Bullshit." Daiken took a step forward. "I saw your eyes. They changed. Black—like theirs. And your skin…"

Aya stirred, her voice hoarse but calm. "Enough."

Daiken turned on her. "You saw it too."

Aya didn't deny it. Instead, she looked at Kairo directly, the fire casting her face in shadows. "I saw something… unnatural. But it saved our lives."

Kairo finally met her gaze. "That doesn't make it right."

He reached into his coat and pulled out the charm necklace—still faintly glowing from the confrontation. Its sigil, a burning sun entwined with thorns, pulsed softly in his palm. It was the same charm his mother had pressed into his hand the night she was murdered. The same charm the demon had laughed at.

"You said demons can't lie," he said quietly.

Daiken frowned. "They can't."

"Then why did it say I wasn't human? Why did it call me 'kin'?"

No one answered.

The fire flickered.

Outside, the wind howled.

Kairo stood slowly, sliding the blade back into its sheath. "I need answers."

Daiken scoffed. "And where do you think you'll find them? The Capital? You think the Sanctum will tell you anything useful? They'd sooner put a blade through your heart if they suspect you're tainted."

"I'll take that risk."

Aya stood as well, wincing slightly. "We'll go together."

He turned to her, surprised. "You don't have to—"

"You saved my life, Kairo. Twice. Whether it was you or… something else doesn't change that. I don't trust what's inside you. But I trust you."

A strange mix of gratitude and guilt twisted in his chest.

Daiken grunted. "I still think this is a mistake. But if we're doing this, we need to move before dawn. The demon's scent is still on us, and others will be drawn to it."

Kairo nodded. He didn't say it aloud, but he felt it too. The pull. Something calling to him from the forest beyond the safehouse. Not a voice this time—but a hum. Like a thread tugging at his spine.

As the trio prepared to move, Kairo glanced at his reflection in the cracked windowpane.

For a moment, he didn't see his own face.

He saw a twisted grin beneath bone-white skin. Crimson eyes gleaming. A shadow wearing his features like a mask.

Then it vanished.

He blinked, heart pounding.

"Kairo," Aya called softly.

He turned.

"Yeah. I'm ready."

But the lie sat heavy on his tongue.

He wasn't ready. Not for what lay ahead. Not for what he might become.

And far beneath the soil, where old things slumbered, something stirred.

Rain lashed against the ruined shingles of the safehouse, each droplet a tiny drumbeat of warning. Inside, the fire cracked feebly in the hearth, barely illuminating the worn wooden walls and the silent tension between the three occupants.

Kairo sat cross-legged near the flames, his blade unsheathed and resting across his knees. Its obsidian edge shimmered with faint red veins—residual demonic energy from the last battle. He hadn't dared clean it yet. Not until he understood what had happened.

He could still see it clearly. The way his body had moved without command. The way the demon's throat had torn as if by invisible claws—not his blade. And the voice. That voice.

"You're not just human, boy. You never were."

His grip tightened on the hilt. Across from him, Aya leaned against the wall, her expression unreadable. Her left arm was tightly bandaged, blood still seeping through in dull patches. She hadn't spoken much since they escaped the marsh demon. Neither had Daiken, who now paced the far end of the room like a restless animal.

The silence stretched, thick and uneasy.

"You hesitated back there," Daiken finally said, his voice low but sharp. "That demon should have killed you. But it didn't. Why?"

Kairo didn't look up. "I don't know."

"Bullshit." Daiken took a step forward. "I saw your eyes. They changed. Black—like theirs. And your skin…"

Aya stirred, her voice hoarse but calm. "Enough."

Daiken turned on her. "You saw it too."

Aya didn't deny it. Instead, she looked at Kairo directly, the fire casting her face in shadows. "I saw something… unnatural. But it saved our lives."

Kairo finally met her gaze. "That doesn't make it right."

He reached into his coat and pulled out the charm necklace—still faintly glowing from the confrontation. Its sigil, a burning sun entwined with thorns, pulsed softly in his palm. It was the same charm his mother had pressed into his hand the night she was murdered. The same charm the demon had laughed at.

"You said demons can't lie," he said quietly.

Daiken frowned. "They can't."

"Then why did it say I wasn't human? Why did it call me 'kin'?"

No one answered.

The fire flickered.

Outside, the wind howled.

Kairo stood slowly, sliding the blade back into its sheath. "I need answers."

Daiken scoffed. "And where do you think you'll find them? The Capital? You think the Sanctum will tell you anything useful? They'd sooner put a blade through your heart if they suspect you're tainted."

"I'll take that risk."

Aya stood as well, wincing slightly. "We'll go together."

He turned to her, surprised. "You don't have to—"

"You saved my life, Kairo. Twice. Whether it was you or… something else doesn't change that. I don't trust what's inside you. But I trust you."

A strange mix of gratitude and guilt twisted in his chest.

Daiken grunted. "I still think this is a mistake. But if we're doing this, we need to move before dawn. The demon's scent is still on us, and others will be drawn to it."

Kairo nodded. He didn't say it aloud, but he felt it too. The pull. Something calling to him from the forest beyond the safehouse. Not a voice this time—but a hum. Like a thread tugging at his spine.

As the trio prepared to move, Kairo glanced at his reflection in the cracked windowpane.

For a moment, he didn't see his own face.

He saw a twisted grin beneath bone-white skin. Crimson eyes gleaming. A shadow wearing his features like a mask.

Then it vanished.

He blinked, heart pounding.

"Kairo," Aya called softly.

He turned.

"Yeah. I'm ready."

But the lie sat heavy on his tongue.

He wasn't ready. Not for what lay ahead. Not for what he might become.

And far beneath the soil, where old things slumbered, something stirred.