Chapter 1: Shadows and Whispers
Chapter 1: Shadows and Whispers
The night was cold, but Alphonse was colder.
His house—if it could still be called that—was little more than a ruin swallowed by time and neglect. The walls stood, but they held no warmth. The air inside was thick with dust and forgotten echoes, heavy with old memories he refused to acknowledge.
Nothing lived here. Nothing dared to.
That was why, when movement stirred beyond the trees, he almost ignored it. The forest had ways of carrying deceptive sounds that mimicked whispers, and rustling leaves resembled footsteps. He had trained himself to disregard such disturbances, dismissing them as tricks of the wind.
But this time, something was different.
The scent reached him first—fear, sweat, and blood woven together in a desperate cocktail. Then came the frantic heartbeat and sharp intakes of breath that signaled survival instincts on overdrive. Not a predator. Not something hunting.
Something fleeing.
A young woman stumbled into his territory like a wounded animal, limbs trembling, eyes darting in search of salvation that didn’t exist. The abandoned house must have seemed like refuge—the last shelter between her and whatever was chasing her.
She was wrong.
Now normally he would ignore such a trifling situation. He should have turned away and left her to shiver and fight her battle. But he didn’t turn away for reasons that he didn’t dare think were possible—reasons that made him uncomfortable for the first time in a very long time.
Instead, he watched from the veil of darkness.
She pressed herself into the shadows of the old home, unaware that her movements had already disturbed something far more dangerous than her pursuers.
The forest held its breath.
Then—footsteps.
Minutes later, her pursuers arrived. Two young males. But though they looked human like Alphonse, they weren’t. There were things from mortal fairy tales that gave them nightmares.
Alphonse’s curiosity flickered briefly. How had such a fragile, slow, and powerless mortal girl managed to evade beings who were not only stronger but also faster than her? There was nothing outwardly remarkable about her.
Yet she had escaped them.
It didn’t take long for her two pursuers to find her hiding spot—beneath the bed. Of all the hiding spots in this massive house, she had chosen that one. Alphonse almost scoffed. What was it with humans and hiding under beds? As if it were the first place no one would think to look.
Well, it didn’t matter where she hid. They would have found her anyway, either by her stench, her breathing, or the blood pulsing through her veins and heart.
One of the pursuers moved in an instant, flicking the bed aside as if it weighed nothing before seizing her throat, lifting her effortlessly. Her legs kicked weakly. Her hands clawed at his grip. But it was futile.
“Don’t kill her,” the second pursuer warned. “Remember, the boss wants her alive.”
“This bitch almost killed me back there with some strange magic,” the one holding the young lady growled.
“Really?” the second pursuer replied, amused. “What did you do this time?”
“Man, fuck you.”
The second pursuer chuckled. “Yeah, I had a feeling. Just don’t let your ego get her killed. The boss wants her alive, and if you screw that up, we’re both dead.”
The first pursuer hesitated, frustration boiling over. But eventually, he released her with a sharp shove.
She collapsed, gasping for air, her body trembling violently.
Alphonse felt a flicker of urgency, an instinct to intervene. But he didn’t.
He was stubborn.
A thousand years of solitude had taught him to suppress such impulses, to bury emotions beneath layers of indifference. And yet, as he watched her struggle, he wondered if that was truly the case.
The one that threw her down earlier crouched, reaching for her hair, intending to drag her like a rag doll. But he didn’t anticipate that she would grip his wrist with all the strength she could muster and bite down hard.
It was a useless effort.
After all, her human bite was no more than an annoyance—like the sting of an insect.
It didn’t hurt him, but her defiance succeeded in enraging him even more.
With a growl, he slapped her, the sound cracking through the hollow space like thunder.
Alphonse’s jaw tightened, but he still didn’t act. Well, that’s until they decided to take her out of the house.
That was the invisible red line he didn’t even know he had.
He stepped forward from the shadows, allowing his presence to be felt.
The air shifted—a pulse, a weight thicker than the night itself.
The two intruders froze. Instincts screamed before their minds could catch up. How did they fail to notice that they were on the territory of such a dangerous beast?
One of them, the second pursuer, stammered, “W-We’re not looking for trouble.”
“You’ve already found it.” Alphonse’s voice was hollow and cold, like the edge of a blade scraping against bone. Even the house shuddered under the weight of his words.
“We didn’t mean to—” the one that was meanest to the girl began, but Alphonse wasn’t interested in explanations.
“Leave the girl,” he ordered. “And go.”
Panic settled deep in their faces. But despite their terror, they were foolish enough to grab the girl and surge forward, supernatural speed fueling their escape attempt.
How naive.
Before they could reach the door, Alphonse was already there.
He hadn’t moved.
He had willed himself there.
His dull silver eyes turned black for a second.
And they froze.
Bodies stiffened.
Muscles locked.
They’re under the influence of mind control. The realization hit them like ice in their veins.
“You… You’re—” one choked out.
But it was already too late for him and his comrades. Regret meant nothing now.
Their lives were taken in an instant.
The young lady collapsed onto the floor, untouched but shaken to her core, unable to comprehend what she just witnessed.
Shadows spring up out of nowhere and wrap around the corpses of her pursuers, consuming them before vanishing, leaving no evidence that there was even a crime.
He then turned his gaze to the girl.
Had he saved her for her sake?
Or simply because he could?
