Prologue
A loud rustling broke the silence as the man picked up his pace, racing through the forest. He was hindered, to his frustration, by the thick underbrush and the tangle of roots that made his footing perilous. Even then he ran, his legs burning as he pushed past the weather-beaten trees with their limp branches and thorny bushes that slashed at him, scraping his already bruised body. His lungs ached with every breath and his vision swam at the edges, exhaustion threatening to drag him down. Still, he forced himself onward.
There was more rustling from the trees behind him. The man quickly glanced backward, a look of relief on his face when he noticed his pursuers were much slower than he was now, struggling through the undergrowth. He had already managed to put some distance between them.
The thought of getting captured again spurred him on even faster as he ran blindly along the worn path, risking a broken limb with every reckless step. But he had to get away. He had to let him know. It was a promise, one he had sworn he would keep no matter the cost. All those days spent locked up had not been in vain. He had been present in the face of the impossible, and if he did not pass on what he had seen, then it would die along with him.
At last, the clearing he was looking for loomed up ahead of him, and with a strained gasp of relief he burst through it, heading towards the small, crooked house nestled underneath the branches of a black-barked tree. The moment he crossed through the line of trees and into the clearing, a sudden lightness spread through his body. The sharp pain in his legs dulled, his breathing eased, and for the first time since his escape he felt steady enough to slow his pace.
He turned to look back at the edge of the clearing. Something shimmered brightly along the edges, catching the fading sunlight, visible only from within. The wards continued to emit their faint glow, sealing the boundary and the man within. They would not allow his pursuers to enter the area.
Relieved, he strode towards the front door, noticing that the grass around the house was blackened, and more were starting to lose their color. He glanced up and noticed the patterned markings etched onto the wooden door. Two of the markings were shining brightly, signifying that the wards were active. But it was the other markings on the walls that worried the man. Shaking his head slightly, he knocked thrice on the door.
After a few moments, a middle-aged man opened it, peering out suspiciously, the hilt of a blade showing between his shadowed fingers. When he saw the face of his visitor, he took a step back, his mouth falling open.
“Zero, you’re alive? I thought that… How?”
“I’m harder to get rid of than you think,” Zero said quietly, walking into the house. “But more details on that later. You might want to sit down, T.”
There was a brief silence between them, heavy and unspoken.
“It’s about your wife.”
