The dawn was quiet. The farming season had ended, and Alan got a rare chance to rest. He lay on his bed, tired. Across the room, Theo slept hard. His head was stuck under Alan's legs, and his feet pushed against Alan's face.
A soft knock came through the still house. Alan groaned. He moved Theo's feet off his face and got out of bed. "Theo, your legs need their own bed," he mumbled, sleepy, as he walked to the door.
Alan opened the door and stared. Nat stood there in a pretty green dress, holding a basket of fresh fruit. Alan's mouth dropped open. He shut the door slowly, cutting Nat off mid-sentence.
He turned back to the house. It was a mess. Clothes lay all over the floor. Theo's alchemy tools were scattered everywhere. Rocks from some test rolled into corners. The kitchen looked like a fight had happened there. Alan sighed and rubbed his head. "This house can't stay clean… even in dreams."
He stepped toward his bed and kicked one of Theo's rocks. "Ouch!" Alan grabbed his toes, wincing. The pain woke him up. He looked at the door, realizing. "Wait… that wasn't a dream!"
He ran to the window and peeked out. Nat was still there, knocking again. Alan's heart beat fast. Panic hit him. "Oh no, she's still here!"
Alan started cleaning fast. He threw clothes into a pile and shoved dishes into the sink. "Theo! Wake up!" he yelled, shaking his brother.
Theo groaned and rolled over. "I don't want carrots…" he muttered, half-asleep. Alan pinched his nose, annoyed. "It's not carrots! Nat's here!" Theo's eyes opened. "What?!" He sat up fast but then fell back down. "You handle it…"
Outside, Nat heard all their loud talking. She smiled a little and laughed quietly.
After a lot of noise inside, the door opened. Theo stood there, hair messy, but he grinned big. "Hi, Miss Nat!" he said cheerfully.
Nat patted his head. "Hello, Theo," she said and stepped inside.
The house looked okay now. The mess was gone. It smelled a bit like cookies. The wooden furniture was wiped clean. Nat sat on the couch and put her basket next to her.
Alan came out, still in an apron. He held a tray with fresh cookies and tea. His face was a little red, but he smiled. "Hey, Nat. Uh… sorry you waited."
Theo sat near the snacks and grabbed a cookie. "Try these, Miss Nat! My brother makes the best!" Nat took one and bit into it. Her eyes got bright. "I didn't know you could cook so well," she said, smiling. Alan rubbed his neck, shy. "It's not a big deal…"
They all sat together. Alan felt less tense. Nat's laugh and the cookies made the crazy night feel warm and nice.
The day went on simply at Alan's small farm. After a big breakfast, Nat said goodbye. She gave the fruit basket to Theo with a kind smile. "Take care, okay? Don't skip your homework," she teased. Theo grinned, holding the basket, and waved as she left down the road.
The day passed with normal tasks. Alan worked on his orders, delivered the last beetroots, and cleaned the farm. Theo did the homework Nat gave him, but he drew pictures in the edges sometimes. By evening, they were both worn out.
After a fast, quiet dinner, the brothers fell into their beds. Alan sighed, happy, as sleep took him. Theo slept too, his notebook open on his chest. The farmhouse was calm, lit by soft moonlight.
But the night had dark plans.
Somewhere else in town, a farmer walked home from the shared fields. He was tired from work. Near Alan's land, he stopped to rest by a wooden fence. He looked at the quiet fields and let his mind wander.
Then, at the corner of his eye, he saw something odd. Shadows moved strange, floating a little, far off. He blinked and shook his head. "Just my mind," he said and stood to go.
But then a sound came through the air. A flute played, soft and pretty. It pulled at him. His legs moved by themselves. The tune got louder and led him away from town, up to the mountains.
He climbed the rocky hills. The flute guided him. When it stopped, he stood in an empty clearing.
Shadows stood in front of him, ghostly and scary. The Ancient Reapers. Their hollow eyes glowed. He froze, afraid.
A scream broke the quiet. One Reaper floated close, its claw reaching out. He stepped back, shaking his head. "No… no!" he whispered and turned to run.
But the flute played again.
His legs stopped. He turned back slow. His scared eyes found the sound. A man sat on a low branch of a twisted tree. KARMA.
The Reapers moved aside. Karma took the flute from his mouth and smiled. His glowing eyes looked amused. "Well, what's this?" he said slow, tilting his head like the farmer was a bug.
The farmer tried to talk, to beg, but no words came out.
Karma snapped his fingers. The closest Reaper screamed loud and jumped at the farmer. The man fell to his knees. The Reaper's claws dug into his chest and took his soul.
The other Reapers made low, rough sounds in a strange language. The one that took the man's soul turned to Karma and spoke to him.
Karma listened close. His grin got bigger. He stood and jumped down from the tree easy. "Looks like we don't need to look anymore," he said, his eyes mean.
His smile turned cold. His voice mocked as he whispered, "Little Theo."
The Reapers faded into the night like smoke. Karma laughed low and dark, then disappeared into the shadows.