A sharp knock echoed in the stillness of the new cycle. In a world without the celestial bodies, time was measured by the lightning that cracked through the eternal night sky. The elders had long ago learned to count the pulses and patterns of the storm. Each cycle began with the loudest thunder and a streak of jagged white tearing through the dark heavens. And just like that, another wake began.
Elric stirred from the creaking chair in his front room, eyes dry and heavy. The bags underneath his eyes obvious in the warm glow from the torches in his room, it was evident to all he had not slept, not truly.
The knock was heard once more, followed by a familiar voice. "Elric? You alive in there?"
It was Fen. His voice was always a little too loud, like he was trying to shout over a roaring crowd that no longer existed. Elric dragged himself to his feet, bones aching, and moved towards the door.
Opening it, he was met with Fen's broad grin.
"You look like a corpse," Fen muttered, before catching himself mere moments after, his burnished copper eyes widening. "Sorry. Poor choice of words."
Behind him stood Mira, wrapped in a charcoal-gray shawl, and Den, his torch slung over his shoulder like a weapon. The three of them had grown up together—scraping together meals, messing around and daring each other to venture further into the outer wall's shadow. They'd all dreamed of being hunters once. Now Elric was not certain.
Mira always the observant one, took note of Elric's current state, the dry eyes and the bags underneath, the tear tracks on his face as well as his hair which was even messier than the rats nest Fen carried atop his head.
"You look like you haven't closed your eyes in three cycles… and somehow your hair lost the fight to Fen's. What did the pillow do to you, Elric?"
Fen turned to Mira upon hearing that, "hey what's wrong with my hair?"
Den gave Fen a sideways glance, "you didn't just ask that, have you ever looked at your reflection."
Elric let out a snort, caught of guard by the familiarity of it all.
Mira wore a smile at that, as the two others exchanged a few more words.
Fen proceeded to clap Elric on his shoulder with his usual bravado causing him to loose his footing for a second. Fen always seemed to forget not everyone was as strong as him.
"Come on. You've been a shut in for a day. That's long enough. Everyone grieves, but not everyone rots."
Elric let himself be pulled into step with them. The streets were narrow and slick with moss, their cobbled paths lit by the torchlight anchored on every house and post. Overhead, strings of tiny lanterns swung gently in the artificial wind stirred by the shifting of heat vents beneath the village.
A group of children darted past them, chasing each other with sticks, giggling. One of them wore a rough-carved wooden mask of a whisperfiend. Another had painted red streaks on his face to look like a blaze-born.
"I heard old Rana nearly let her torch go out last night," Den muttered as they passed. "One of her dogs went mad, started biting at the wall like it saw something outside."
"She's always been careless," Mira replied. "That woman trusts oil more than flame."
Elric's gaze drifted to a guard patrol that passed them by, these dressed in red with darkened plate armor atop their clothes. The guards patrolled the streets every cycle with lanterns atop long poles to catch shadows slithering between homes.
Exchanging nods with the guards they continued on, passing by the central pyre square, where a large iron brazier blazed. A few elders sat nearby, muttering about the coming test.
"That's in two cycles, isn't it?" Fen asked, his voice more serious now.
Den nodded. "Yep, when the storm peaks. They'll do it by the southern gates."
Elric didn't ask what the test was. He knew. Every year, the hunters guild allowed a handful of young villagers to try out. He had spent his whole life preparing for this, It wasn't a test of brute strength—no it was a trial of courage and survival. Candidates were sent just beyond the outer torch ring and left to hold their position until the signal fire called them back. If they lived, they were brought in as initiates.
It had been Elric's dream since he was a boy, to carry a hunter's torch. To explore the world beyond, to bring back relics and stories. But that dream had soured. The image of his father's broken body, the bandages that wrapped around his scarred torso, the way his voice—once strong and full—had been reduced to a mere whisper…
Now Elric wasn't so sure.
"You're still trying out right?" Mira asked softly.
Yet Elric did not have an answer for her.
They arrived at the small workshop near the center of town where the hunting captain, Brann, was known to gather. A long table had been set up outside, covered with scraps of armor, torch parts, and preserved monster parts—proof of kill, always sterilized before being brought inside.
Brann stood nearby, sharpening a curved blade. His eyes were clouded with age, but they missed nothing. When Elric approached, the old man's gaze pinned him.
"You're late," Brann said flatly.
"I wasn't told to come."
Brann snorted. "Boy, you should've come the moment your father fell."
The words cut deeper than Elric expected.
Brann sheathed the blade and walked over, nodding to the others before focusing on Elric. "Your father died because he underestimated what's out there. Let that lesson burn into you. Darkness don't pity us. We light the fire or we die in its mouth."
Elric tensed raising his head to look the aging captain in his eye. "He didn't underestimate it."
Brann raised a brow at the boys words distorting the scar on the side of his face.
"He tried to protect something," Elric continued. "He was a true hunter, until the end. Zel'ra thon'veth, ra'kel sa'vael."
The old hunter regarded him for a long moment. Then responded "Oran lioran, sa'kel ra'vaelThen. Its a shame he never saw the dawn."
"Just because you know our words does not make you one of us. We'll see if you are worthy in 2 cycles."
He turned away, shouting orders to a group of young initiates fumbling with oil tanks.
Mira leaned closer. "You didn't say yes."
"I didn't have to," Elric murmured determination back in his eyes.
They wandered the marketplace afterward, each step bringing back old memories. There, beside the cold-forge, he and Fen had dared each other to sleep without a torch. They'd lasted an hour before bolting home, convinced they heard whispers in the dark. Near the dried-meat vendor, he once saw a whole carcass of a shadow spinner at that time he could swear he saw it twitch.
Those were good times now everything felt heavier. Duller. As if the firelight itself dimmed when it hit him.
The friends moved around from stall to stall buying snacks and sharing jokes with one another. Elric knew what they were up to and he was glad to have friends like them. As the cycle drew to a close they had to part ways.
"You still have us," Mira drew closer to Elric and whispered as they walked. "Even if you decide not to join. Even if you never do."
Elric didn't answer. His silence said enough.
They parted ways before the outer wall. Mira and Den returned toward their homes, but Fen lingered.
"She'd never say it," Fen muttered as he passed over some Torchroot chips he had purchased in the marketplace over. "But she was worried you wouldn't come back from the chamber."
"I almost didn't."
"I know." Fen reached into his coat and pulled out a small, silver torch lighter. Its edge bore the hunter's mark—two crossed flares, carved by hand.
"Elric," he said. "If you do take the test, don't do it for your father. Do it for you. Because if you're out there thinking about ghosts—"
"I'll become one. You know you can be wise sometimes."
Fen let out a wide grin at that, "Sometimes, nay I'm always wise" He let out a laugh as he walked away.
Elric stood alone beneath the nearest torch post, staring at the flame. His fingers twitched with the memory of blood. His father's voice, ragged and broken, echoed through his skull. At that moment Elric made a vow, he would become a hunter and do what no other hunter had done.
He would see the dawn.