Five Years Ago
The midday sun beat mercilessly over Zack Fair's fertile farm. Wearing his worn cap, loose shirt, denim trousers, and mud-streaked boots, he knelt between freshly furrowed rows, carefully planting seeds. Every handful of soil was turned; every clump of grass—pulled with steady hands—prepared the earth for the life that would spring forth.
In the distance, his wife leaned against the porch post, her face shaded by a wide-brimmed hat, watching him with a warm smile, her features soft and almost otherworldly. A glass of iced juice sat on the little table beside the radio, whose country tunes drifted through the hot air.
"Darling, what a breeze today—so peaceful," she teased, irony lacing her words.
Zack looked up, sweat furrowing his brow into a grin.
"I hope you die of thirst, you worn-out tin-can," he shot back playfully, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. They both laughed, their voices mingling with birdsong and buzzing bees.
He laid down his hoe and strode across the furrows toward her. As he reached her, he lifted his hands to the rounded curve of her belly, now visible beneath her flowing dress. With tenderness, he traced the gentle arc with his fingertips and pressed a kiss upon it—a silent vow.
"I love you so much… even before I truly knew you."
She raised an amused eyebrow.
"But, love, you didn't even live here when we married!"
Zack offered a conspiratorial smile and leaned in for a slow kiss.
"Still, I feel we're great friends—and that we'll make an amazing family."
Her golden eyes shone like dawn's first light over the fields.
"I know everything will be all right, my love."
He wrapped her in a firm embrace, feeling hope and warmth pulse between them. The radio played a romantic ballad, the wind stirred eucalyptus leaves nearby, and for a moment, the whole world seemed vast and peaceful…
Little did they know that this tranquil moment would be the last echo of happiness before the Void called them into a destiny of shadows.
Ashes and Thunder
Zack woke with a start, his chest burning as if he'd sprinted a marathon. An inaudible scream of a lost name escaped his lips while cold sweat trickled down his face. Beside him, Black Moon leaned against the hearth, silent witness to the shadows dancing on the walls.
The room crackled with energy—black lightning arcs split the air, tangled with thick smoke tendrils. Splintered wood, fragments of metal, and a bittersweet scent of darkness hung trapped there, as if a shard of the ritual refused to leave. It was Black Moon drawing Zack's strength inward, containing his fury within these walls, keeping it from sweeping through the village.
"Old man, wanna talk about it? This is the second time I catch you like this…"
A firm, yet weary voice spoke from the other side of the bed.
Zack struggled to steady his ragged breathing. He lacked the courage to meet the boy's eyes.
"Boy, give me the intel, then go," he rasped, voice rough but direct.
Silence stretched until the youth finally spoke:
"The king… ordered a hunt for whoever attacked the Dragon Bar. They've hired Milos."
Zack remained motionless, knuckles white on the sheets.
"He'll come first to the lower district, backed by soldiers. That works in our favor."
The boy hesitated, wounded.
"You're gonna let the poor suffer… because of your and K's recklessness. You should be ashamed."
Zack's gaze sliced the room like a blade. The boy swallowed hard, bitten lip trembling.
"All right, master. I'll warn the people. I'll set the plan. A Red Eye hunts us… we move cautiously."
Without another word, Zack rose. He slung on his muddy boots, pulled up his hood, and donned his tattered coat. He took Black Moon from its corner, feeling its familiar weight. The boy was gone—vanished like a shadow at dawn.
Beyond that door, the world beckoned:
– The crackle of black mist.
– The tense quiet of a waking district.
– The king's wrath rolling in like thunder.
Zack stepped into the gray light with determined strides, ready for whatever came next. Vengeance still burned in his veins, and the day promised thunder.