Moonlight Castle

Time passed slowly as the wagon ventured deeper into the city. The ruins, though centuries old, looked as though they had been frozen in time. The buildings stood tall and unyielding, their surfaces smooth and unblemished, as if the city had been abandoned only yesterday. One could almost imagine people still walking its streets—if not for the oppressive silence that hung in the air, broken only by the occasional, distant scream of dying men.

Kazimir was no stranger to silence. He knew the silence of taking a life, the silence of stalking prey through the wilderness. But this was different. This was an unnatural silence, a silence that shouldn’t exist.

As the sky darkened, Kazimir felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Ephialtes, one hand pressed to his lips in a gesture for silence, the other pointing into the distance.

Tracks.

After a quick exchange of hand gestures, the men followed the trail. The tracks in the freshly fallen snow were unmistakable—large, paw-like prints that resembled those of a lion from the southern continent. If Kazimir didn’t know better, he might have believed they were made by an ordinary beast. But the size and depth of the prints suggested something far more sinister.

The tracks led them deeper into the city, past crumbling buildings and through narrow alleys. After half an hour on foot, they reached a vast, open space. Kazimir paused and looked back. From this height, the entirety of the city sprawled before him, a labyrinth of stone and shadow that stretched as far as the eye could see.

And there, in the distance, bathed in the fading light of the setting sun, was the monstrosity.

It was a grotesque hybrid of lion, octopus, and snake. Its fur was as white as snow, stark against the darkening sky. Black tentacles sprouted from its back, each one ending in an eye, an ear, a nose, or a mouth. Its tail writhed like a serpent, and its head—too many eyes, too many teeth—seemed to defy nature itself. Its jaw hung open impossibly wide, a snake-like tongue flicking out as if tasting the air.

This was what they had come to hunt. A demon.

For the first time in a decade, Kazimir felt true fear. It clawed at his chest, cold and unrelenting. But then he remembered the gaunt faces of the starving children, their hollow eyes as they bid their fathers goodbye. His heart hardened, the fear replaced by a cold, steely resolve. His focus narrowed to the creature before him, and his grip tightened on his weapon.