The library door opened with a creak.
I instinctively turned around, bow in hand. My fingers touched the varnished wood as if it were part of my own body. The quiver brushed lightly against my back. I didn't need to see who it was. The smell, the footsteps, the rhythm of his breathing... I already knew.
Alfred.
He was standing there, smiling as if it were just another ordinary day in New Moon. A faithful servant, an old advisor, the one who taught me how to strap on armor and read the records of the ancients. But today, he wasn't alone.
Four swordsmen were following him. Their faces covered in black scarves, their eyes cold. When they drew their swords, the tension in the room became so thick that it was as if the books on the shelves were holding their breath.
"Young master." said Alfred, as if we were in a tea room and not about to see blood stain the Persian carpets.
"What are you doing, Alfred?" I asked without changing my breathing. My voice came out steady, but inside me... it was as if everything was stopping.
He smiled with disgusting calm.
"The baron has lost control. The territory is in ruins. High taxes, hunger, fear. He does what he wants. I... decided to act. To bring peace back."
The word 'peace' almost made me laugh. Almost.
"So you decided to betray our family too." My voice sounded sadder than I would have liked. Because, deep down, I liked him. Alfred was almost part of the house. Almost part of me.
He raised his chin, as if he had already won.
"You too? Hehehe... you really are a monstrosity. Too clever, always looking too much, listening too much. You know... I knew you were the devil from the moment you killed your mother in childbirth. That damned cry... it still echoes in my nightmares."
My hands remained firmly on the bow. I stared at him in silence, absorbing every word, every poisoned syllable. He expected to see anger. Guilt. Pain. But all he saw was silence.
And that's when I moved.
I jumped backwards, climbing two steps up the library stairs as my hand pulled the string of the black bow. Heavy. Made for killing beasts, not men.
But I wasn't aiming at men. I was aiming at traitors.
"CHI! CHI! CHI! CHI!"
The arrows sliced through the air like dry thunder, each one hitting precisely the space between the swordsmen's eyebrows. They fell like rag dolls, their eyes still wide, unaware that they were already dead.
Blood gushed onto the carpet. Red. Hot. Fetid.
Alfred didn't move. He was frozen. His eyes were wide, his forehead glistening with sweat. I could see the droplets running down his face, like a traitor preparing to die.
I walked slowly, bow still in hand. The floorboards creaked under my feet, and each step seemed to echo inside his head.
He said nothing.
And neither did I.
I just let him see.
Let him see what he himself had created.
Let him see the subtle glow in my pupils - a deep red, like burning embers on a moonless night.
The demon he feared so much... stood before him now.
"G-warrior commander?" Alfred's voice trembled like dry leaves in late fall.
He took a step back, pale. His feet hesitated to touch the ground, as if he was suddenly sinking.
The smell of fresh blood still hung in the air.
Four veteran swordsmen. All dead within seconds.
And me? Still with my bow firmly in my hand. Not a drop of sweat. Not a scratch. No hesitation.
"I really... didn't expect that." he muttered, a nervous laugh escaping through his teeth. "Thirteen years old... a high-level warrior at thirteen... hehehe... he really is a demon."
I didn't reply. I just stared at him.
"You've taken good care of me all these years, Alfred." My voice came out calm, almost cutting. "So I'll make it quick with your family."
It wasn't a threat. It was a promise. A cold sentence. He would understand.
His plan had failed, and he knew it. But there was still something strange in his eyes - it wasn't just fear... it was also resignation.
"You can kill me, Zaatar..." he spat with a half-smile, blood on his teeth. "But you won't be able to save your father."
Before I could ask him anything, he slammed his fist hard into his chest.
A green flash enveloped his body like a pulsating aura, glowing like a spectral flame. Almost instinctively, I took a step back. My whole body reacted.
"What did you...?"
That was all I managed to say before he shot down the stairs like a figure. Too fast for an old butler. Too fast even for some elite soldiers.
Something flew towards me. A spotlight shone on my side.
"Tsk!" I rolled to the left.
DING!
The dagger hit the wall, sticking out like a nail. If I had stood still, it would have pierced my throat.
Without wasting any time, I ran after him.
The library shelves were left behind. My feet touched the marble of the corridors firmly. Every step I took was a dry thud, my muscles in sync with the bow in my hands.
I was fast. But Alfred... was running with the blessing of something.
Gods? Artifacts? Ancient magic?
It didn't matter. I was going to catch up with him.
We left the lodgings. We crossed the corridors like two shadows at war.
One black. The other, green.
We passed the training ground. I caught a glimpse of dozens of eyes watching us, swords hanging in the air, arrows lying on the ground. No one dared to interfere. No one understood what was going on.
I only saw the looks. I saw the reflection of the fired arrows colliding with that green light. A sharp sound resounded with each impact - like metal hitting glass.
But I kept shooting. Even though I knew I wasn't piercing anything vital, I kept going.
Revenge didn't have to be clean.
Just complete.
After the twentieth shot, he staggered. The green flickered.
Then it stopped.
He fell to his knees on the wet morning grass, his body riddled with arrows. Twenty-eight of them. He looked like a wooden statue carved by a crazed archer.
Blood dripped down his shoulders, his legs, his back. The smell of meat heated under the green light filled my nostrils.
I approached. Still holding the bow.
Alfred raised his face. His smile was weaker now, tainted with pain and bitterness.
"I... didn't expect an outcome like this..." he whispered, spitting blood onto his lips. His eyes met mine. There was hatred. But there was also respect. And fear.
I approached slowly, my steps sinking lightly into the blood-soaked grass. The sky was gray above us, and the world seemed to have held its breath. Alfred was still alive, against all the odds. He must have lost gallons of blood, but his eyes were still steady - glaring at me with a strange gleam of lucidity.
I crouched down in front of him, holding the bow in my hands just in case. His face was pale, but there was no fear there. Just exhaustion.
"I can take care of your family... or I can kill them." I muttered. My voice came out low, emotionless. "What will it be?"
Alfred laughed. Or tried to. It was more of a choked sound than anything else.
"Rillen is a damned man..." he whispered. "Your father hid you from the world. Thirteen years... with that power... and no one knew. Selfish. Cruel. Even with your own blood..."
He coughed, and a dark stream escaped from the corners of his mouth.
"How talented you are, Zaatar... If I'd known that... I... I..."
His voice faltered. But his body, miraculously, was still on its knees.
That's when I noticed the leaf stuck to his chest. It was a vibrant green, surrounded by luminous veins that pulsed like a heart. The light was fading, getting dimmer by the second, like a candle in the wind.
It was what kept him alive.
"I'll tell you what I know..." he murmured. His eyes were misty now, but still steady. "Just... take care of my boys. They're... not to blame. None of it. Promise?"
I looked at him for a moment.
Then I nodded.
Words weren't necessary.
He relaxed his shoulders. It was subtle, but I felt it. It was as if he had stopped fighting. Because he knew I wouldn't break my word. I never had.
The blood beneath him pooled, a dark, thick puddle. The metallic smell permeated the air, heavy. But he didn't hesitate. He didn't flinch.
And then he began to speak.
With a hoarse, broken voice, he told everything he knew. About the baron. About my father. About secret meetings, deals made in the shadows, weapons being moved from the north, coded messages, names I'd never heard before. There was more rot than I had imagined. More betrayals, more complicit silences.
And there was something even darker behind the leaf he carried on his chest. A pact with someone - or something - that Alfred never dared to name.
"He knew about you, Zaatar... years ago. He knew what you would be. He tried to control it, shape it, hide it... and now..." more blood dripped from his mouth, but he forced a smile "now it's too late."
His words began to falter. His eyes were slowly fading.
"You... you're going to change everything... I just wanted... to see the world clean again..."
The light from the leaf finally went out.
And with it, the butler who raised me. The man who tried to kill me. And who, in the end, gave me the truth.