In the darkness.
Thick as silk, flowing like a mystic fog. It curled around the world, as deep and boundless as the abyss. The silence was deafening—unnatural, as if the very air had forgotten how to speak.
Then, a voice whispered—cutting through the void with a familiar plea:
"REMEMBER!"
And just as quickly as it came, the darkness fled.
Slowly, a boy—no older than twelve—opened his bright emerald eyes, one after the other, into this surreal, dim world. The gentle rumbling of the horse-drawn carriage he lay in nearly drowned out the voices of the nearby villagers.
In this ethereal world, day had become a myth. Only the crimson moon cast its eerie glow from above. Humanity had taken refuge within five layered islands, each one suspended by massive branches of a colossal tree. The higher islands were staggered rather than stacked, while the fifth rested on the forest floor.
Outside the safety of these islands, plants and animals had evolved to emit light—to lure and trap prey. Inside, to counter the eternal gloom, bioluminescent crystals were placed in every corner, casting dim but steady light throughout. The outer world glowed brighter, but homes remained cloaked in shadows.
The villagers' voices echoed in the market. Shouts of traders hawking tomatoes and fresh bread tangled with the clip-clop of hooves. The air was fresh with bargaining.
"Only 20 lerry, just for today!"
"Tomatoes! Fresh and properly cleaned!"
"Should I pack it up, sir?"
The horse trotted steadily through the bustling streets, the driver maneuvering skillfully to avoid the throngs of townsfolk.
"You finally awake?" a deep voice asked from up front.
Ky'ren couldn't see the driver's face clearly, but he recognized the voice. Groggily, he sat up, gripping the wooden edges of the open-roofed carriage.
"As if. The sleep wasn't even enjoyable," Ky'ren muttered.
"Oh really? Says the one who forgot his errand. And where's Jarroth? You were supposed to bring him home," the driver—Ka'len—replied, a hint of irritation creeping into his tone. He snapped the reins, urging the horse faster.
Ky'ren jolted upright, eyes wide. A sudden bump nearly threw him from the carriage. " Ah ....Oh no! I forgot about him!"
"Don't get yourself killed," Ka'len grumbled. "Ehem, as expected—Mom sent me instead. She figured you'd forget. And clearly, she was right."
Ky'ren smirked, getting to his feet and shaking Ka'len with joy in the driver's seat.
"That's why you're the best!"
"Stop that and sit down before I lose control again," Ka'len barked, gripping the reins tightly as he weaved through the market.
"Okay, okay..." Ky'ren backed off and sat again in the back of the open carriage.
"And it's not for free," Ka'len said with a grin. "You'll be the one drawing water next week."
Ky'ren's smile vanished.
"I take back my praise."
They passed a narrow bridge, water flowing gently beneath it, and entered the residential quarter. The medieval-style homes stood shoulder to shoulder, with narrow lanes winding between them. Wooden beams, red-and-blue crystal lanterns, and rope lines strung with drying clothes added to the dim, surreal ambiance. Each window held a single, flickering candle—a symbol more than a source of light.
"It's been a week now…" Ka'len murmured.
"Hm?" Ky'ren, not looking at him, replied while watching the children playing in the streets.
"Since the scouts left. A full week." Ka'len said in a grim tone.
"And they're coming back today," Ky'ren quickly added, his mood shifting into excitement .
"Please, can we take a detour? People are lighting their candles already—they must be close!" Ky'ren said , eyes sparking with excitement .
"No can do. I'm not risking Mom's wrath." Ka'len was quick to brush him off ,ignoring his brother's excited banter.
"She won't know, I swear. Just a peek." Ky'ren pleaded
"Hmmm... I am going to be a scout soon. " Ka'len said taking a few moments of silence before. He continued:
"... I guess it won't hurt to just take a peek."
"Yesssss!" Ky'ren jolted up again almost falling off the carriage and laughed .
Ka'len turned toward the city's entrance. He stepped down from the carriage, revealing his black hair and green eyes—much like his brother's. At sixteen, he had an average build but an unmistakable presence.
The entrance buzzed with anticipation. Villagers clustered together, candles in hand. Ka'len hoisted Ky'ren onto his shoulders to give him a better view.
From the darkness beyond the gate, figures slowly emerged.
The guards stationed above gave the command. The gates creaked open.
Out of the black came five horsemen—scouts dressed in glowing, tight-fit uniforms. They were met with cheers and applause… but their faces showed no joy.
Their eyes were hollow. The oldest among them—a bearded man in his forties, with a bloodstained bandage on his forehead—led the group. One rider lagged behind, pale and trembling. His long black hair shrouded his face. Only his pale skin was clear.
Pam! The gates groaned shut behind them.
In the world of Evernight, the Islands were humanity's only salvation—from the horrors that dwelled beyond. Massive wooden crosses soaked in Holy Liquid surrounded each island, forming protective barriers against the madness that lurked in the dark. The gates around each island just served as a physical barrier but the cross protected them from the unnatural.
The scouts walked their horses through the path the crowds had cleared for them.
The cheers continued as the crowd praised awe.
Then, the pale man began to shake.
He fell to the ground, convulsing. His body writhed in pain.
Ka'len then dropped Ky'ren and moved forward.
Ky'ren grabbed his arm—visibly shaken.
"Don't," Ky'ren said, eyes pleading. He could feel that there was just something unnatural about to happen.
Ka'len gave him a faint smile.
"I'll just check on him."
He gently pulled free and rushed to the scout.
"A-Are you okay?" he asked, kneeling.
The man—Gerald—screamed, white foam dripping from his lips. The other scouts rushed to Ka'len's side, panic in their eyes.
And then—klak.
A soaked wooden cross fell from Gerald's hand as he went unconscious.
Not just any wood—the very **barrier** protecting the lower island.
Terror spread like fire.
The older scout , the first one to understand the situation, seized the fallen cross and dashed to the gate. They could still be a chance to save them all.
"Open it! Quickly!" He screamed at the guards .
The guards hesitated, then moved.
Just as the gate cracked open, a violent gust hurled the scout into a wall—sending the cross flying.
A voice echoed:
"...The true king has returned."
Then—muttering. A foreign tongue. Unearthly and cold.
"It's too late."
The voice came from Gerald. His veins were now black, worm-like creatures seemed to scurry beneath his skin. Eyes pure white.
And then—he knelt. As if praying.
And bashed his head against the stone floor.
Again.
And again.
Bash!
Bash!
Bash!
Black blood poured from his skull.
No one moved.
They were too scared to intervene—frozen and pale from the sight.
Then—the air grew cold.
All the candles were forced by the wind to draw their last breath.
The crystals flickered and died. The moon casts a lonely blue glow.
Darkness. Then chaos.
A scream tore through the air. A woman clawed her eyes out, sobbing before she collapsed.
The crowd scattered.
Screaming. Running. Children lost in the madness.
Ka'len searched for Ky'ren in the chaos. While Ky'ren ran blindly, dazed, and pale.
He had to reach home, hoping that his mother was still okay.
The wind whispered. Thunder roared.
As the atmosphere started to chant songs of rain.
Flashes of lightning blinded the world.
And then—Ky'ren stood face-to-face with a towering mass of rotting flesh.
"W...where did it come from?" Ky'ren thought , all he could see was death in its rotten path.
It swung a hand. The shockwave sent bodies flying. As bones met with stone.
Ky'ren hit a wall—his bones cracking.
Blood dripped from his forehead. He screamed.
Clinging to the hand that has distorted.
He limped through the nightmare. Creatures emerged—shadowed humanoids with impossible shapes. Monsters with impossible structures flooded in taking the lives of anyone they saw .
Madness roamed as bodies piled on the floor.
They say the way of a man is only known when they are face to face with death and in death every man is equal.
The rich did not mind the stain that touched their expensive attire.
Nor did the marketers care about their produce.
The parents cared about their children and let their lives go. While some ignored their very own.
Ky'ren soon reached home.
But it was too late.
Blood stained the walls…and even the holy statue they prayed to.
Ky'ren backed away. His mind frayed. His vision blurred. The urge to tear out his own eyes overtook him.
All he could hear in his head were whispers from different voices. His eyes were engrossed in different instances ,like observing fifteen thousand different occurrences at once. A feeling that whispered madness in his feeble ears.
Ky'ren screamed, desperate to claw the pain away.
He raised his trembling hand—
But then—a hand gripped his shoulder.
A bandaged bearded man with brown hair and a defined jaw. Breathing hard.
It was the Older scout from earlier.
He pulled out a vial, dipped two fingers inside, and touched Ky'ren's temples.
"Release!"
The whispers faded.
Ky'ren's scream stopped—and he collapsed on the man's arm.
Before unconsciousness took him, his eyes opened one last time to the world around him. The chaos and how everything was taken away from him.
And he felt only one thing:
Hatred.
---
SOULLESS