The sky bled crimson over Elderglow Village, flames clawing at the stars like a beast set loose. Jace, five and small for a Vampire, huddled behind a shattered cart, his heart a frantic drum in his chest. The air choked with ash and the iron stench of blood—his clan's blood, spilled across the snow like ink. Screams tore through the night, sharp and fleeting, as Elderglow burned. Jace's fingers dug into his mother's scarf, its lavender scent fading under the reek of ruin. He wanted to cry, to run, but her last words held him fast: "Stay low, Jace. No matter what, live."He didn't understand why this was happening. Elderglow was home, a haven of laughter and ice, where his mother told stories of peace—humans and Vampires sharing a world without bloodlust. She'd spoken with a fire in her crimson eyes, her hands weaving tales of a future Jace could barely imagine. But tonight, that dream was a lie. The village square, once alive with festivals, was now a chaos of broken bodies and burning homes. Jace's breath hitched as he peeked through the cart's slats, his small frame trembling.Boots crunched on snow, slow and deliberate. A Kurodan operative stepped into view, his black armor swallowing the firelight. The man's blade dripped red, his eyes cold as the North Pole's heart. Jace's stomach twisted. The Crimson Tribunal's elite were legends, heroes who fought human Mujoken warriors. Why were they here, slaughtering their own kind? Jace's clan had whispered of peace, but peace didn't bring swords—it brought death.
"Clear the west!" a second Kurodan shouted, his voice laced with compulsion, a trick of some clan's bloodline. Jace's head throbbed, the urge to obey tugging at his mind, but he bit his lip until blood welled, grounding himself. Nearby, a boy's cry—Lorcan, his neighbor—pierced the din. "Please, don't!" Jace's eyes widened as a blade flashed, silencing Lorcan forever. Jace's chest heaved, a sob threatening to break free, but he pressed his hands over his mouth, his mother's plea echoing: Live.A flicker of movement, too close. Before Jace could bolt, a hand gripped his wrist, gentle yet unyielding, yanking him into an alley. "Not a sound, kid," a low voice hissed. Jace froze, staring up at a hooded figure—tall, lean, with scars etched across his jaw. The man's eyes, dark and sharp, darted to the burning square. "You wanna live, you stick with me. Got it?"Jace nodded, tears spilling down his cheeks. The man—Kael, he'd learn later—crouched, his cloak pooling like shadow. "Good," Kael muttered, his tone sarcastic despite the screams. "Now hold on tight." He slung Jace over his shoulder and sprinted through the inferno, weaving past collapsing roofs and Kurodan patrols. Jace clung to Kael's armor, the world a blur of fire and ash. An explosion rocked the ground—human Mujoken, or something worse? Jace didn't know. All he saw was his mother's face, her blade flashing as she'd faced the enemy alone.
"Why're they doing this?" Jace's voice was small, barely audible over the chaos. Kael's stride didn't falter, but his grip tightened."Some fools think hope's a disease," Kael growled, dodging a falling beam. "Damn council. This wasn't my call." His words carried a weight Jace couldn't grasp, a mix of guilt and defiance. They reached the village's edge, where the ice fields sprawled under a starless sky. Kael set Jace down, kneeling to meet his gaze. "You're safe now, kid. But Elderglow's gone. You can't go back."Jace's fingers clutched the scarf, his body shaking. "My mama… she said we'd be free someday." His voice cracked, but his eyes held a spark—something fierce, unbroken.Kael's jaw clenched, a flicker of pain crossing his face. "Yeah, she did," he said softly, almost to himself. "C'mon, Jace. We move, or we die." He stood, ruffling Jace's hair with a rough hand. "Stick with me, and I'll keep you breathing."As they vanished into the snow, Jace's heart burned with a promise he didn't yet understand. The world was cruel, but he'd survive. One day, he'd make it right—for his mother, for Elderglow, for a peace he'd never stop chasing.