"May the creator listen to my prayer.

  May my prayer be accepted."

  A lone man whispered in a dark, empty room. He sat in the center, surrounded by a ring of candles whose weak flames flickered against the stone walls. His eyes were closed, hands pressed together, voice trembling as he continued his strange, desperate ritual.

  "Let my power remain active even after my death.

  Let my vis—"

  Before he finished, every candle was extinguished at once as a sudden gust of cold wind swept through the room. Darkness swallowed everything. His eyes snapped open, and in that suffocating blackness, a faint voice of a woman whispered from behind him.

  "Turn around."

  The words slithered into his ears like ice water. They sent uncontrollable shivers down his spine. He wanted to turn. He wanted to look. Yet he couldn’t. Every instinct screamed not to. He kept his eyes forward, frozen in place, breathing unevenly. Then the voice came again—this time softer, but infinitely more terrifying.

  "Tamashi."

  Hearing the name of his grandson broke his paralysis. His body moved on its own. He turned around.

  Blood splattered across the walls.

  His body collapsed, limp, skin stripped clean, a hollow, grotesque shell. He was found thirty minutes later, discovered by horrified guards.

  "How did this happen?" a man with blonde hair said, blue eyes scanning the blood-filled room for clues. His voice trembled with frustration.

  There were none.

  A guard behind him asked, "Have you found anything, Crown Prince Arthur?"

  Arthur shook his head slowly. "Nothing... My eyes aren't picking up anything."

  "So what now, Crown Prince?" the guard asked again.

  Arthur sighed heavily and said, "Prepare the burial."

  Three years later

  Grandfather died three years ago in a way no one could explain—unnatural, mysterious, and cruel.

  "I miss you, Grandfather. So does Miya," Tamashi said as he knelt and placed flowers on the grave, his voice wavering.

  "You didn’t have to do that ritual, Grandfather..." he whispered, wiping his eyes. "Grandfather, you’ll be happy to hear I’m a full-fledged mage now."

  But as he stood to leave, a sharp pain stabbed into his skull. His knees buckled. He grabbed his head with both hands, gripping his hair as if tearing it out would lessen the agony. His vision blurred. The world around him melted away—trees dissolving, ground evaporating—until it looked as though he were standing on the sky itself.

  The pain stopped. His trembling eased.

  A being shaped like a human but entirely made of radiant light hovered before him. Before Tamashi could speak, it spoke first.

  "The Wanderer… will arrive."

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  Its voice was melodic—angelic—something beyond mortal understanding. Hearing it washed all questions, doubt, and fear from Tamashi’s mind. He felt comforted, soothed by its presence.

  "Be prepared."

  Before he could respond, his vision went black.

  When he opened his eyes again, he was back in the graveyard. Night had fallen, torches flickered in the distance—and before he could stand, someone struck him from behind.

  Darkness again.

  He woke tied to a chair in a dim, unfamiliar room.

  "Where am I?" Tamashi whispered.

  A man entered, carrying a torch. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. The flame illuminated his face.

  "You're King Arthur," Tamashi said in shock.

  Arthur nodded once. "You're Tamashi, right?"

  "Y-Yes, I am Tamashi..." he replied nervously. "Why am I here?"

  Arthur stepped closer, his expression deadly serious. "What did the Visioner tell you?"

  Tamashi froze. "The… Visioner?"

  "Yes," Arthur said sharply. "The Visioner. What did he say?"

  "The Visioner? The guy made out of light?" Tamashi asked, confused and trembling.

  "So that’s what he looks like. What did it say?" Arthur demanded.

  "It said…" Tamashi hesitated.

  Before he could finish, a soft voice whispered in the room:

  "The Wanderer is coming. Be prepared."

  Arthur jerked back in shock, eyes darting around. "Who is here? Reveal yourself!"

  A girl’s unsettling chuckle echoed through the room.

  Without hesitation, Arthur drew his sword and stabbed through the left wall. A shriek exploded from the darkness—so loud, so piercing that Tamashi’s ears rang violently. The pain was unbearable. In desperation he tore the ropes that held him and bolted from the room.

  Arthur saw him escaping and roared:

  "CAPTURE TAMASHI! BRING HIM TO ME!"

  Guards flooded the hallway, chasing him.

  "As cold as a dead body… as white as clouds… the solid that makes us shiver…" Tamashi muttered the incantation under his breath as he ran.

  "FROZEN PRISON!"

  Ice erupted around him, trapping every guard in solid frost.

  He sprinted home as fast as his legs could carry him. When he reached his house, he kicked the door open—and froze.

  Blood everywhere.

  He stepped deeper into the house. Somewhere inside, something was eating… chewing… tearing flesh. The wet, squishy sound grew louder as he approached.

  Something brushed against his leg.

  He looked down—

  "F-FATHER!"

  His father’s severed head stared back at him, lifeless eyes frozen in horror.

  Tamashi lifted his gaze.

  A monstrous humanoid creature crouched in the corner, hunched over, gnawing on a bone like an animal, its mouth dripping with red.

  "The material that created the sun… the material that lights up the dark… the material that turns objects into ash… may your color be black…"

  He finished the chant.

  "Black Flame."

  Dark fire shot forward, engulfing the creature. It screamed—an inhuman, bone-shattering sound. Most would faint hearing it. Tamashi didn’t. Rage filled him, hollow and merciless. He watched the monster burn, watched it writhe, watched it crumble into ash.

  Then, a tiny squeak sounded under the table.

  "Miya?!"

  His little sister lunged at him, hugging him desperately.

  "B-Brother…" she choked out, voice trembling.

  "Don’t worry. I’m here. Nothing will happen," Tamashi said, holding her tight.

  "Where is Mother?" he asked gently.

  "E-Eaten…" Miya whispered, shaking uncontrollably.

  Tamashi’s breath stopped. His stomach twisted. He looked back at the pile of ash, fury boiling inside him—then turned and saw his mother’s headless body lying behind the table.

  He opened his mouth to scream—

  —but the glowing figure appeared again, materializing inches in front of him.

  "You shouldn’t have told anyone what I looked like… or what I was," it said calmly. "Your grandfather did the same. Then he performed a ritual without understanding it… so I killed him."

  It paused.

  "So, you’ll die too."

  Before Tamashi could react, Arthur burst into the room—just in time to see the being point a finger at Tamashi’s forehead.

  In a blink, Tamashi’s head was gone.

  Arthur froze in horror as the being slowly turned to him.

  "The Wanderer is coming. Be prepared."

  Then it vanished.