Somewhere deep within the decaying expanse of the demon's palace—far from the glittering throne rooms and the shadow-choked corridors where power slithered and festered—lay a place soaked in sweat, blood, and the echoes of battle. This was the training yard, where demons honed their savagery under a scorched sky, where roars of exertion clashed with the sharp crack of whips and steel. It reeked of cruelty and discipline; a crucible of pain forged for war.
Here, demons of rank came to test their might, barking commands at lesser soldiers or tearing through sparring dummies with monstrous glee. The air was never still—shouts, clangs, and snarls danced in a symphony of violence.
And among it all… was a little girl.
Aileen stepped carefully across the cold stone, the hem of her oversized tunic brushing against her legs. The coarse fabric was rough, patched with mismatched scraps, heavy with grime. Her small arms strained to carry a wooden bucket sloshing with murky, soapy water. It was nearly too large for her to lift, but she kept going—bare feet slipping now and then on the wet stone.
Her arms ached. Her back burned.
The air reeked of rust, rot, and something bitter that made her throat tighten and her stomach churn. She wanted to rest.
But she didn't.
She was afraid. This place swarmed with monsters—demons who sometimes leered at her as they passed, eyes glittering with a hunger she didn't understand but instinctively feared. Each time she caught that gaze, it chilled her to the marrow.
But she didn't cry.
"No more crying."
She repeated the words like a prayer, her lips pressed shut. There was no Zen here to protect her. No one to take her punishment. No one to pull her behind him and stand between her and the darkness.
And every time she had slipped—every time she was too slow, spilled water, fell down—it was him who paid the price.
Her brother.
"I'll be strong. So he won't have to protect me anymore."
She took another step. Her arms trembled. The bucket handle bit into her fingers. Her knees wobbled. Her body screamed to stop, to rest—but she didn't.
"Zen always smiled when I tried hard."
"He'd say I was the strongest little sister in the world."
She wanted to see that smile again.
It had been so long.
More than three months.
She hadn't seen his face. Hadn't heard his voice.
"Did something happen?"
The thought came uninvited. Her grip faltered for a heartbeat.
"No. No—he promised."
He had knelt before her, hands on her shoulders, voice calm and steady.
"I'll come back for you, Aileen. I promise."
He never broke his promises.
And yet… in the filth and the silence, she still felt afraid.
"Please… come back soon."
Her vision blurred.
But she didn't stop.
One trembling step at a time.
For him.
For herself.
And then—
The air shifted.
At first it was subtle, like a breeze that didn't touch her skin. Then it pulled—strange, cold, and unseen.
Before she could cry out, the world around her dimmed.
Her knees buckled.
Darkness rushed in.
Then—silence.