The morning light filtered through the narrow streets, casting soft rays across the rundown house where Orion stood waiting. His golden eyes reflected the soft glow of the rising sun as he looked out into the quiet city, his thoughts lingering on the events of the previous day. He had spent the night nearby, waiting, knowing that Ra would need someone by his side when he emerged. Ra’s mother was gone, and though they had only known each other for a short time, Orion felt a deep connection to the boy who, like him, had faced unspeakable loss.

  The door to the house creaked open, and Ra stepped out, his black hair wild, his face drawn and pale from a sleepless night. His emerald green eyes, normally so fierce, now looked tired and hollow, but there was something else in them—anger. A simmering rage that Orion could feel even without words.

  Ra glanced at Orion briefly but said nothing as he moved to stand beside him. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was thick with unspoken emotions, grief, and pain. Finally, Ra broke the silence.

  “I want to bury her,” Ra muttered, his voice rough and strained. His words were quiet but filled with determination. There was no room for argument, no hesitation.

  Orion nodded. “I’ll help,” he replied softly, offering his support without question. This wasn’t something Ra should have to face alone, and Orion had no intention of leaving him to bear the weight of it by himself.

  They moved together through the early morning streets, keeping their steps quiet as they made their way out of the city. The outskirts were lined with patches of forest, secluded and silent, a place where they could find some peace. The journey was quiet, both boys lost in their own thoughts as they walked side by side, their breaths steady but burdened by the weight of what lay ahead.

  Ra found a small clearing just outside the city’s borders, a quiet place where the trees cast long shadows across the earth. He began to dig, his movements slow but steady, as if each strike of the shovel into the dirt was an outlet for his bottled-up emotions. Orion helped where he could, but mostly he stayed silent, letting Ra take the lead. Each scoop of earth was a reminder of the life Ra had lost, the mother who had once held him, protected him, and in her own way, loved him. Now, she was nothing but a memory, a presence that would fade into the earth.

  When the grave was ready, they gently lowered Ra’s mother into the ground. The wind whispered softly through the trees as they stood over the freshly dug grave, the only sound in the otherwise still world. There were no words, no final goodbyes—just a heavy, aching silence. Ra’s fingers curled into fists at his sides, his body trembling with rage and sorrow.

  Orion watched Ra carefully. The anger in Ra’s eyes hadn’t subsided; if anything, it had grown stronger, more focused. There was a tension in Ra’s posture, his jaw clenched so tightly Orion thought it might shatter under the force. He was holding onto something, something dark and dangerous.

  “What are you going to do?” Orion asked quietly, breaking the silence.

  Ra’s green eyes flickered with fury as he stared down at the grave. “I have to settle a score,” he said coldly, his voice filled with an edge of danger.

  Orion’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  Ra didn’t look at him. His gaze remained fixed on the grave, his fists still clenched. “The man who sold her the drugs,” Ra growled, his voice low and simmering with anger. “He’s responsible for this. He made her do unspeakable things for the drugs he gave her. He’s the one who ruined her life. I blame him for everything.”

  Orion felt a chill run down his spine as he listened. He knew that look in Ra’s eyes—the burning desire for revenge. “What are you planning to do?” Orion asked, though he already had an idea.

  Ra’s expression hardened. “I’m going to make him pay,” he said, his voice cold.

  Orion took a deep breath, weighing his words carefully. He understood Ra's rage, his grief, and the justice he sought. This wasn't just revenge—it was retribution. "Ra, we will give him the justice he deserves," Orion said steadily. "Together."

  Ra’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond right away. His hands trembled slightly as he stared at the ground. “Maybe not,” he said quietly, “but I don’t care. He deserves to die for what he did.”

  Orion studied him for a moment. He understood Ra’s anger, his need for justice—or vengeance, as it truly was. But he also knew that killing the man wouldn’t bring Ra any peace. Still, this was Ra’s decision to make.

  “I’ll go with you,” Orion said finally. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

  Ra looked at him, his green eyes hard but grateful. He nodded once, his jaw still set in determination. “Let’s go.”

  The previous day, Orion had met the drug dealer alongside Ra when they had gone to collect gold and drugs as payment for taking care of a rival gang. He had despised the man on sight, sensing the cruelty and malice in his demeanor. Now, as they made their way to the decrepit building by the docks, that hatred only deepened.

  The moment Ra stepped inside, the air in the dimly lit room shifted. The scent of cheap alcohol, burning incense, and something fouler—chemical, sickly sweet—hung in the air. Paul, sitting behind his cluttered desk, exhaled deeply, swirling a glass of amber liquid in one hand. He lifted his gaze, his expression softening into something almost paternal.

  "Ra," he greeted, his voice warm, almost concerned. "You don’t look so good, kid. Something wrong?"

  It was all theatrics. A carefully crafted act. Ra saw through it immediately. His green dragon-like eyes, slit pupils constricting against the dim light, locked onto Paul with an intensity that made the older man hesitate for just a moment.

  Ra didn’t answer. He stalked forward, fists clenched, the weight of his grief like an iron shackle around his chest. Orion stayed by the door, his usual confidence laced with tension, sensing the darkness swirling around his friend.

  Paul took another slow sip of his drink, setting it down with deliberate ease. "Talk to me, kid. What’s eating at you?"

  Ra’s jaw tightened. "She’s dead."

  Paul blinked. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face before he sighed, shaking his head as if in mourning. "Ah, damn… I was afraid of that."

  Ra’s nostrils flared. "Afraid? You knew?"

  Paul leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "Come on, Ra. Your mother was suffering. This world… it wasn’t kind to her. Now, she’s in a better place. No more pain. No more struggling."

  The room went silent.

  Ra’s body trembled, but not from sorrow. From rage.

  "You think that makes it okay?" he growled, his voice low, dangerous. "You think that justifies what you did? The drugs you gave her? The poison that killed her?"

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  Paul exhaled sharply, rubbing his forehead. "Ra, listen. I tried to help her. I tried to help both of you. You know that. I gave her what she needed. She wasn’t strong enough to handle this world. That’s not on me."

  Ra lunged forward, grabbing the desk, his fingers digging into the wood as his claws—yes, claws—began to emerge at the tips of his fingers. His emerald dragon eyes burned like molten fire. "Stop pretending you cared. You did this."

  Paul’s mask cracked. His expression hardened, and his voice lost all traces of warmth. "Alright. Enough. You wanna know the truth? Fine. I did what I did because it was necessary."

  Ra’s breath came in heavy, ragged bursts, but Paul continued, his voice colder now, calculating. "I knew your mother was a lost cause. She was going to die sooner or later. You? You had potential. But you needed to break first. You needed to lose everything. You needed to understand that the only thing that matters in this world is survival."

  Ra’s fingers clenched so tightly the desk cracked beneath them. Paul leaned in, his eyes narrowing. "You work for me now, Ra. That’s how this plays out. You do what I say, you follow my rules, or…"

  Paul’s voice dipped lower, carrying the weight of a lethal promise. "You die today."

  For a moment, the words hung in the air, thick with finality.

  Then, Ra snapped.

  A guttural roar tore from his throat as his body reacted, moving faster than his mind could process. The air distorted around him, his strength surging beyond what any seven-year-old should possess.

  Orion barely had time to step back before Ra’s hand shot out, seizing Paul by the throat The older man gasped, his hands clawing at Ra’s wrist, but the grip was like iron, unyielding, suffocating.

  Ra’s pupils shrank into razor-thin slits. His emerald eyes pulsed with something primal.

  "You planned this?" Ra’s voice was low, trembling with rage. "You thought I’d be desperate enough to crawl to you? To beg?"

  Paul’s face twisted, a flicker of fear creeping into his otherwise composed facade. "Ra—kid—" he rasped, but the words caught in his throat as Ra’s grip tightened.

  "You killed her," Ra seethed, his voice barely above a whisper, but it carried the force of an impending storm. "You thought I would fall in line. That I would break. That I would need you."

  Paul’s face was turning red. His fingers twitched, struggling to summon some last-minute maneuver, some desperate ploy.

  Ra didn’t give him the chance.

  Ra wrenched the dealer’s throat clean out, blood spraying across the walls as the man gurgled his last breath.

  Orion didn’t flinch. He was with Ra every step of the way. The man would get his justice, and they would be the ones to deliver it. The room erupted into chaos as the remaining henchmen scrambled to react, but they were too slow. Orion moved like a phantom, his blade flashing as he severed tendons and sliced through flesh. One man barely had time to scream before Orion’s dagger slashed across his Achilles tendons, dropping him to the ground in agony. Another lunged at Ra, but Ra caught his wrist, twisted it until the bone snapped, then drove his knee into the man's ribs, sending him crashing through a wooden table. The room erupted into chaos as the remaining henchmen scrambled to react, but they were too slow. Orion moved like a phantom, his blade flashing as he severed tendons and sliced through flesh. One man barely had time to scream before Orion’s dagger slashed across his Achilles tendons, dropping him to the ground in agony. Another lunged at Ra, but Ra caught his wrist, twisted it until the bone snapped, then drove his knee into the man's ribs, sending him crashing through a wooden table. Orion surveyed the bodies scattered around the room, the thick stench of blood and death filling the air. He exchanged a glance with Ra, and without a word, they both understood what had to be done next. Ra stepped over the lifeless form of the dealer and reached for a lantern resting on the nearby table. With a slow, deliberate motion, he hurled it into the wooden crates stacked against the far wall. The flames caught instantly, consuming the dry wood in a hungry blaze.

  The fire spread quickly, licking up the walls, turning the room into an inferno of vengeance. The flickering light cast long, jagged shadows on the blood-splattered floors as the flames devoured everything in their path. The building creaked and groaned, the heat intensifying, but neither Ra nor Orion flinched. They watched in silence as the past—the pain, the suffering, the horrors this place had created—was reduced to ash.

  Stepping outside, the cool night air hit them like a shock, but neither turned back. The fire raged behind them, smoke curling into the sky, signaling the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.

  Ra turned to Orion, his emerald eyes still glowing faintly, the last remnants of his fury simmering beneath the surface. Without hesitation, he raised his hand and bit into the flesh of his palm until blood welled up. He extended his hand to Orion, his expression unwavering.

  “No matter what happens,” Ra said, his voice low but steady. “We stand together. From this moment on, we are brothers.”

  Orion didn’t hesitate. He mirrored Ra’s action, biting into his palm until his own blood dripped down his fingers. Then, he clasped Ra’s hand firmly, their blood mingling in the flickering firelight.

  A silent oath passed between them, one unbreakable, forged in blood and fire. Whatever came next, whatever trials they would face, they would do it together.

  For the first time in a long while, neither of them felt alone.

  As the last embers of the burning building faded into the night, Orion exhaled deeply, rubbing the drying blood from his knuckles. He turned to Ra, a question lingering on his lips. "So… what now? We just burned down the only place that had work for you. How are we going to get money? Food?"

  Ra cracked his knuckles, a slow smirk creeping onto his face. "Simple. We take what we want."

  Orion raised an eyebrow, then let out a small chuckle. "I guess so."

  And just like that, the two boys threw themselves into the underbelly of the city, carving out their survival one stolen coin at a time.

  The fire had raged for a while, but now it was dying, embers crackling weakly against the charred remains of what had once been a thriving den of corruption. The streets of Xylodia’s underworld were quiet, as if the city itself was holding its breath.

  The flames had long died, but the air still shimmered with heat. The ruins of the drug den stood blackened, twisted metal and charred wood crumbling inward like the ribs of a dead beast. The scent of burnt flesh clung to the remnants, thick and suffocating.

  A lone survivor lay among the wreckage, his body broken, barely clinging to life. Blood leaked from his split lips, pooling beneath him in slow, rhythmic drips. He coughed, his chest rattling as he tried to push himself up, his entire body trembling. His mind raced—not from the pain, but from the far greater terror looming in the smoke-choked air.

  He had arrived.

  The man froze as a figure stepped forward, emerging from the dark alley beyond the ruins. No words were spoken, yet the survivor knew exactly who had come.

  His breath hitched. His vision blurred at the edges, but he still saw the movement—a slow, deliberate stride, the kind that spoke of power restrained, of violence waiting to be unleashed.

  A long shadow stretched across the ruins, twisting unnaturally in the fire’s dying glow. The figure’s presence alone made the air feel heavier, pressing against the man’s chest like an invisible weight.

  A voice, smooth yet void of warmth, finally broke the silence. “Explain.”

  The survivor swallowed hard, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. “It was… kids.” He coughed, spitting blood onto the ash-covered ground. His body was shaking uncontrollably now, though not from the wounds. “They—they came out of nowhere. They killed everyone. Set the place on fire. I don’t—I don’t even think they were afraid.”

  Silence followed. The man forced himself to lift his head, to look up at the figure towering over him. He couldn’t see his face, but he didn’t need to.

  He knew who he was.

  Everyone in Xylodia’s underworld did.

  The survivor’s breath came faster, panic rising in his throat like bile. “I swear! I—I don’t know who they were, but—”

  A shift in the air. The shadow at the man’s feet moved.

  No—it grew.

  It stretched unnaturally, twisting, taking shape. The air crackled with an unnatural chill as tendrils of pure darkness rose from the ground, slithering toward him.

  The man tried to scramble back, but his body wouldn’t move.

  Then he saw them.

  The heads.

  Dark, beastly figures, indistinct yet horrifying, emerged from the shifting mass, their eyes void-like pits, their mouths filled with jagged, writhing fangs. They were hungry.

  “No—no, please—!”

  The first head lunged. Teeth sank into flesh.

  A sharp, wet crunch. A scream cut short. Bone cracked. Blood splattered onto the blackened wood.

  Then silence.

  The shadow receded, as if it had never moved. The remains of the man—what little was left—collapsed into a heap, limbs torn apart, lifeless eyes frozen in terror.

  The figure stood still for a moment longer, unmoving, expression unreadable in the dim light. Then, with slow precision, he turned and walked away, leaving behind only the whispers of something monstrous lingering in the air.

  The underworld of Xylodia would soon learn what had happened here. And when it did, one truth would remain:

  Someone had dared to challenge the shadows.

  And the shadows were watching.