But when I looked around, everything I saw was tinted red.
The blood had blurred my vision, forcing the whole world to appear crimson.
I gathered what little strength I had left and tried to make my way home.
I took only a few steps before my body gave out completely.
The red before my eyes began to fade, slowly turning to black.
That's when I realized—I was losing consciousness.
It felt like life was slipping away from me.
My body was growing lighter, as if it were about to drift away…
But the pain in my eyes held me down,
as if it were anchoring my spirit to my body—keeping me from letting go.
It felt like the two forces were battling: the pain fighting to keep me conscious,
and the weakness dragging me into sleep.
In the end, the weakness won.
I blacked out.
I don't know how much time passed,
but eventually I began to wake up again.
I tried to open my eyes, but the pain resisted.
Still, I forced them open.
I found myself in my room, wrapped in my blanket.
I struggled to sit up in bed.
Just then, my mother entered the room.
I had woken up in my own bed.
The pain was still there, but bearable.
As I sat up, my mother walked in—clearly shaken and worried.
"Are you alright? You scared me! What happened?"
"I'm fine. Nothing happened to me," I said, trying to calm her down.
As I spoke, a question came to mind.
"How did I get back here?"
She began to explain everything.
"Hans brought you.
You were gone for a long time, so I went to ask him if he'd seen you.
He said you'd gone toward the river.
We went looking for you together and found you unconscious.
Hans carried you all the way back.
He said he'll come check on you tomorrow.
What happened out there?"
After she asked, I told her everything.
She was deeply worried.
"Are you feeling alright now? Can you still see?
We'll go see the healer tomorrow..."
Her mention of the healer made me want to get better immediately—desperately.
I knew exactly who the "healer" was.
That woman wasn't a healer. She was a full-blown witch.
Why do I say that?
Well, one winter I had a cold and went to her.
She invited us in and gave me tea.
At first, I thought the cold was worse than the tea.
After drinking it, though, I wasn't so sure.
She gave me some "healing herbs," praising their power,
saying I'd be fine and wouldn't cough anymore.
She was right.
After her herbs, I didn't cough, or even sneeze—
because I spent the next full day glued to the toilet with the worst stomach pain of my life.
So yes, her herbs worked—if your definition of healing means "suffering worse."
When my mom mentioned her again, all I could imagine
was the witch standing over a bubbling pot, handing me a ladle of poison herbs.
[I'd rather stay sick than drink her potions.
I need to convince Mom I'm already better.]
"I'm fine. Really. I'm totally okay. I just need a bit of sleep and I'll be good.
No need to visit the healer. Don't bother her for nothing!"
"Maybe I should call her—just in case…"
[No, no, no. Anyone but the witch. Please, no!]
"I'm telling you—I'm fine!"
"…Alright, if you say so."
[Finally! That was close. Thank the stars.
Now I just need to know how long I was out.]
"By the way… what time is it now?"
"It's already night."
[It's already night? That can't be. I couldn't believe I'd been unconscious for that long.]
"If you need anything, just call me," my mother said gently as she stepped out of the room.
After she left, I decided to try and get some sleep.
A long while passed as I lay in bed, when suddenly, I began to hear strange, unsettling sounds.
At first, I assumed it was just a quarrel in someone's house—nothing unusual for a village.
Trying to ignore it, I covered my ears with my pillow.
But even with my ears covered, the noises didn't stop.
In fact, they grew louder and louder, more numerous with every passing moment.
Unable to endure the eerie sounds any longer, I had no choice but to get up and check what was going on.
I stepped outside, heading toward the village to see what was happening.
What I saw was… hell.
The village was in flames.
Women and children screamed in terror and agony.
Young men were trying desperately to fight off some massive, terrifying beasts—dogs, or rather monsters that looked like dogs.
The most horrifying thing?
Corpses.
People's bodies were lying everywhere—torn apart, being devoured by those beasts.
Some were barely recognizable, mangled beyond belief.
I stood frozen in place, paralyzed by the horror of what I was witnessing.
Daytime.
Three hours had passed since Attu had met with Hans. Suddenly, a young man came running toward him.
"Hans!"
The boy was panting, struggling to speak through his gasps for air.
"What happened? Calm down and take deep breaths first."
"A demon attacked the neighboring village!"
"Damn it. Warn the villagers—no one is to go outside tonight. And gather as many men as you can."
The boy nodded and dashed off toward the village. Just as Hans was about to leave as well, Attu's mother, Aurora, approached him.
"Hello, Aurora."
"Hello. Hans, have you seen Attu? He's been gone for a long time."
"He went to collect firewood by the river this morning. He's not back yet? Want me to help look for him?"
"Yes, please. That would be a relief."
Hans and Aurora set off toward the river together. Hans couldn't stop thinking about the demon attack in the neighboring village. He decided he should tell Aurora too.