The wind howled as Alpha walked.
The road stretched ahead of him, cracked and uneven, swallowed in shadow. Faint moonlight spilled through the jagged remains of trees, their skeletal limbs reaching skyward like the hands of forgotten dead. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and lingering embers, the distant echoes of war still whispering through the ruins.
It had been hours since he left Iskaroth behind.
His body should have ached from exhaustion, but it didn't. His wounds should have slowed him, but they hadn't. Vanitas pulsed at his side, a steady rhythm that matched his own heartbeat. He was no longer sure where his strength ended and the blade's influence began.
It didn't matter.
All that remained was the path ahead.
Mist curled around his ankles as he walked, swirling in ghostly tendrils before fading into the night. He had once heard that mist carried the voices of the dead, that those who walked alone in its embrace would hear the whispers of souls lost to time.
Superstition.
And yet, as he moved through the thickening fog, he thought he heard something.
A voice.
Faint. Muffled, as though carried on the wind.
"Are you going to kill me?"
The girl's voice.
Alpha's steps slowed.
The memory was sharp, vivid. The ruins of Iskaroth, firelight flickering against broken stone. The scent of smoke thick in the air. The girl had stood before him, small but unyielding, her gaze steady.
She had not pleaded. She had not begged.
She had only asked the question.
He had spared her.
Why?
He still didn't know.
The mist thickened, and for a moment, he swore he saw a figure standing just beyond the reach of the moonlight.
But when he blinked, the road was empty.
Vanitas pulsed.
Alpha exhaled and kept walking.
By the time night fully settled, he had found shelter beneath the remains of an ancient stone archway. The carvings along its surface were worn beyond recognition, their meanings lost to time. The ruins around him stretched far into the distance, remnants of a forgotten age swallowed by war and decay.
He sat with his back against the cold stone, watching the sky.
The stars were sharp and endless, pinpricks of light scattered across the abyss. They looked untouched, uncaring, as if the ruin of the world below meant nothing to them.
For a moment, Alpha allowed himself to feel small beneath them.
Then—footsteps.
Soft. Measured. Deliberate.
His fingers twitched toward Vanitas. He didn't move, didn't speak. He simply listened.
The sound was too light for a soldier in armor. Someone moving with purpose, but without aggression. A traveler, perhaps. Or a scavenger picking through the bones of the fallen.
A shadow slipped into view.
A figure wrapped in a tattered cloak stepped past the edge of the ruins, pausing just outside the reach of the moonlight. The dim glow revealed a slim silhouette, the faint glint of a dagger at their hip.
They stood there for a long moment, watching him.
Then, a voice—smooth, edged with something unreadable.
"Strange place to rest."
Alpha remained silent.
The stranger tilted their head. "Not much of a talker, then."
Still, he did not respond.
A soft sigh. Then, a step forward. "If you're going to kill me, I'd rather you do it before I waste my breath."
Something about those words unsettled him.
Alpha finally spoke. "I don't kill without reason."
The stranger huffed a quiet laugh. "Then you're in the wrong war."
They stepped closer, lowering their hood.
A woman.
Her features were sharp but not unkind, her dark eyes flicking toward the sword at his side. Her gaze lingered there, her expression shifting—just for a moment.
Recognition.
"You've been marked," she murmured.
Alpha's grip on Vanitas tightened. "What do you mean?"
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she took another step, her voice quieter now. "That blade. You didn't find it, did you? It found you."
A chill ran down his spine.
She studied him carefully, as if weighing something in her mind. Then, her tone softened, almost reluctant.
"You should leave it behind."
Alpha exhaled. "I can't."
"I know."
Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken truths.
The woman glanced at Vanitas one last time before taking a step back. "If you keep walking this road, you'll find only one end."
Alpha didn't reply.
She turned to leave.
But before she vanished into the night, she spoke one last time.
"Just remember, warrior—power never comes without a price."
Then, she was gone.
Alpha remained still long after the woman had disappeared.
The weight of her words clung to him like mist, seeping into his thoughts.
Power never comes without a price.
He had known this truth long before Vanitas.
Once, he had been a soldier. A simple one, caught in a war he did not start, fighting battles he did not understand. He had wielded steel, not curses. He had feared death, not the slow erosion of his own will.
He had been human.
Now, he wasn't sure.
Vanitas pulsed. Not in warning. Not in hunger.
Just in… acknowledgment.
Alpha sighed and adjusted his grip on the blade.
He still had a road to walk.
One step at a time.
The wind howled again, and Alpha moved forward, disappearing into the night.