Jory tightened his cloak as he approached the tent, fingers stiff with cold. The others had already gathered, their voices curling through the early morning mist. A fire burned at the center of camp, barely keeping the frost at bay.
The cold pressed in. A damp, thin air settled over the camp—the kind that clung to breath and skin like an omen.
Their leader had told them not to call him by his name. Not here. Not now.
“Caelum” was for another time. Another life.
Here, he was Rei.
And Rei had given him an order.
Jory swallowed. His grip tightened on the handle of the tent flap. Wake the newcomer. Get him to eat. Simple enough.
And yet—something about that boy unnerved him.
—
He hesitated outside the tent.
The new one—Veridion, Rei called him—had slept through the morning stirrings. Strange. Most newcomers woke at the slightest sound out here. A place like this made light sleepers of them all.
Jory reached out and knocked softly against the wooden support.
No answer.
He frowned, then cleared his throat.
"Veridion. Time to eat."
Silence.
A prickle of unease ghosted up his spine. He had stood closer than most last night, had seen the way the firelight didn’t quite sink into the boy’s gaze.
Another knock, firmer. "Come on."
Then—a shift.
A whisper of movement inside. Not hurried, not startled. Just… there.
The flap pulled back, and Erasmus stepped into the cold morning air.
Jory swallowed. He didn’t look like someone who had just woken up. His hair, white as bone, fell loosely over his shoulders, but his eyes—too clear, too aware.
Still, the expression he wore was perfect. A subtle frown, a slight furrow of the brows, the practiced weight of exhaustion settling over his shoulders. A boy shaking off sleep.
"Morning." Erasmus’ voice was quiet, rough around the edges, as if dragged from a dream.
Jory forced himself to breathe. "Fire’s lit. Food’s ready."
Erasmus blinked—as if processing the words a second too late. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Right. Let’s go."
—
The campfire burned low, its embers pulsing against the frostbitten ground. Shadows stretched long over the gathered knights, their armor dull with use, their faces drawn. The dead weighed heavily in this place—though none spoke of it aloud.
Erasmus took a seat near the fire, not too close, not too distant. Just enough to belong.
Across from him, Caelum sat with arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Jory, still uneasy, busied himself with his rations. Others ate in silence, eyes flickering over their surroundings, waiting for something—always waiting.
Then someone spoke.
"Our leader saved you, right?"
A casual question, thrown into the firelight.
Caelum glanced at Erasmus, his brow lifting slightly. A silent challenge.
Erasmus smiled, slow and deliberate. "You could say that."
The knights leaned in slightly. Any distraction was welcome here, especially one wrapped in mystery.
"How did you meet?"
A perfect opening.
Erasmus let the silence stretch, just enough for anticipation to settle. Then he sighed, shaking his head.
"It was a mess."
A half-truth. A foundation to build the lie upon.
The squires waited. Eager. Expectant.
"I was half-dead when I found him," Erasmus continued. "Wandering, starving. I don’t even remember how long I had been walking. But when I collapsed, guess who was already there, waiting?"
A pause. A slow glance toward Caelum.
"He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t ask who I was or if I was worth saving. Just dragged me up and kept moving."
The squires exchanged looks.
"If it weren’t for him," Erasmus added, voice low, deliberate, "I’d be bones in the dirt."
Silence.
Then Jory, wide-eyed, murmured, "Of course he did."
Caelum sighed. “That’s not exactly how it happened.”
Erasmus arched a brow. "Oh? Feel free to correct me."
A pause. A faint shift in Caelum’s expression.
Then—a shrug.
"Close enough."
Laughter rippled through the camp.
Erasmus let it settle. Let them relax.
Another thread of trust, tied just tight enough.
—
The fire had burned low by the time the men settled into their tents. A hush fell over the camp, heavy and expectant, like the world itself was holding its breath.
Erasmus did not sleep.
He lay still, his breathing measured, his mind threading through every detail, every shift in the air.
Something felt… off.
Not a presence. Not a sound.
A lack of something.
Then—
A scream.
Short. Cut off.
Erasmus sat up. The camp was already stirring, shapes moving in the dark, voices sharp with alarm.
And then—just before he moved—a sound.
Faint. Almost imperceptible.
Like something thin and brittle scraping against wood—hesitant, but deliberate.
Not the wind. Not an animal. Something feeling its way forward.
Erasmus rose fluidly, stepping out into the cold.
The firelight flickered over something sprawled in the dirt.
Jory stood nearby, his breath coming fast.
Others were gathering, forming a hesitant circle.
Erasmus stepped closer.
A body lay before them.
Or what should have been a body.
But it was hollow.
A husk of flesh and skin, utterly emptied. The cavity where the innards should have been was clean—impossibly clean. No blood. No viscera.
Just an empty frame, like something had peeled the insides away without disturbing the surface.
And now—now Erasmus understood what had been missing.
The air. The night itself.
A pocket of silence had existed before the scream. An absence where something should have made noise—should have moved—but did not.
It had already been there. Watching.
A silence heavier than fear settled over the group.
Jory swallowed hard. "W-what could do that?"
Erasmus tilted his head slightly, eyes tracing the remains.
Then—a flicker of something.
The body was too intact. The cut was too precise.
This was not the work of a mindless beast.
Something intelligent had done this.
The realization settled, cold and final.
Erasmus exhaled softly, gaze flicking to Rei. "You still don’t feel fear?"
Rei’s jaw tightened. "No."
A pause.
Then, Erasmus—calm, quiet, measured.
"Then you’re not thinking hard enough.”