It began with the birds.

  Not their song—their absence.

  Just before dawn, when Ulaz usually stirred with the quiet call of starlings and frostwings, there was only silence.

  No rustle in the trees.

  No clicking of insect wings.

  Just the sound of wind curling too softly through the branches—like it was afraid to move.

  Old man Ferent was the first to notice.

  He stood at the edge of the orchard, pipe clenched between his yellowed teeth, eyes narrowed toward the forest’s eastern ridge.

  His dog—Ors—usually chased shadows and rabbits like they were demons.

  Today, he wouldn't leave the porch.

  And that’s when Ferent saw the trees sway.

  Not with wind.

  But with weight.

  A shape moved behind the fog.

  Tall. Slow.

  Not clumsy.

  Deliberate.

  Eliara

  The knock came before breakfast.

  Dorian answered the door. Ferent’s face was pale, pipe gone, hands shaking like a man who’d touched ice.

  “You need to keep the boy inside today.”

  Eliara looked up from the hearth.

  “What happened?”

  “Something’s in the woods.”

  He didn’t blink.

  “I’ve lived near Ulaz fifty-three years. I’ve heard beasts cry, scream, hunt. But I’ve never heard one breathe like this thing did.”

  “Breathe?”

  “Like it was thinking.”

  A pause.

  “Like it was remembering.”

  Samuel

  From the upstairs window, he could feel it.

  Not see. Not hear. Not even smell.

  But feel.

  A presence on the edge of the world. A thread that tugged lightly at his spine—like someone was plucking a string that didn’t belong to this body.

  He turned to the crib’s shadow.

  It moved.

  Velara spoke.

  “Something’s coming.”

  > [Codex Alert: Proximity Surge Detected]

  [Entity Class: Unknown Beast] — Estimated threat: HIGH]

  Loop-scent recognition confirmed.]

  This creature does not know what you are. But it knows you do not belong.

  The Beast

  It emerged just after sunrise.

  Its shape didn’t make sense at first.

  Taller than a horse. Longer than a wagon.

  Legs like bent spears. Fur that shimmered wrong—like oil in water, constantly changing color.

  Its eyes were too many.

  Its breath steamed in unnatural rhythm—slow, steady, as if inhaling dreams instead of air.

  And worst of all?

  It didn’t make a sound.

  Not until it spoke.

  A voice—low, crawling inside the heads of those nearby.

  Not a word. Not language.

  Just one thought:

  “Found.”

  > [Codex Emergency Trigger: Shadowbound Instincts Primed]

  [Samuel’s presence has been sensed. Defensive traits passively enhanced.]

  Velara: “Do not let it near your heart.”

  Samuel clutched the edge of the blanket as the shadow beneath him curled like a snake—ready to strike.

  Samuel

  The walls felt smaller.

  The air heavier.

  The second the Codex lit up with the word “Found,” Samuel’s breathing turned shallow—his chest rising too fast, too tight. The room was warm, but his hands were freezing.

  Shadows curled along the floorboards—not creeping.

  Reaching.

  > [Shadow Veil: Triggered (Unstable)]

  [Mana Surge Warning – Emotional Catalyst Detected]

  [Loop Trauma Signature: Reactivation in progress]

  “Samuel—breathe.”

  Velara’s voice wasn’t calm.

  It was urgent.

  “Your body is reacting to memory. You must take control—now.”

  But Samuel couldn’t.

  He wasn’t thinking anymore.

  He was reliving.

  The girl.

  The car.

  The scream.

  The silence after.

  His tiny fingers clenched into the blanket. The wood beneath him cracked. Shadows poured from under the bed like water, swallowing the light.

  He whimpered once—just once.

  And the magic snapped.

  Ulaz Village

  The beast crossed the orchard.

  Not rushing.

  Not hiding.

  Just coming.

  And the closer it came, the more the world felt like it was tilting sideways.

  The trees bent—not from wind. From pressure.

  The clouds didn’t move. They watched.

  And Dorian stepped forward alone, sword strapped to his back, hands empty but ready.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “You’re not from here,” he muttered, staring into the beast’s too-many eyes.

  “And you don’t care who dies if it means getting what you want.”

  The beast didn’t blink.

  Didn’t growl.

  It just breathed—a low, soul-dragging hiss that made the nearby guards flinch.

  Ferent stepped beside Dorian, jaw clenched.

  “Whatever it is, we kill it before it gets to the boy.”

  Dorian’s gaze didn’t leave the beast.

  “We don’t let it see him. Ever.”

  And then—

  The world shuddered.

  Not the ground.

  The light.

  From the windows of their home, a pulse of dark mana flared outward like a ripple in a pond.

  The beast turned toward it.

  And smiled.

  Samuel

  The room twisted. His crib cracked down the middle. Mana bled through the floor, dripping into the cracks, turning dust to shadow glass.

  He was losing control.

  Velara’s voice was louder now—panicked, but direct.

  “Samuel. You’re not there. You’re here. You lived. That memory isn’t you anymore.”

  But he couldn’t hear her.

  The screams in his head were louder.

  He had to protect them.

  He had to stop it before it reached them.

  He had to—

  “Let me anchor you.”

  He blinked.

  Just once.

  And Velara’s voice was no longer in his head—it was in his bones.

  “You’re not a weapon yet. You’re a child.”

  “But that doesn't mean you're helpless.”

  > [Soul Companion Override Activated]

  [Shadow Surge Rebound – Canceled]

  [Emergency Release: Umbra Pulse – Directed]

  A pulse of pure shadow slammed outward through the room—contained this time. Controlled. Not by power.

  But by will.

  The light didn’t die.

  It just made space.

  And the screaming… stopped.

  Outside, the beast staggered.

  Just one step.

  Like it had been hit with a memory not its own.

  It turned toward the house again.

  And this time—it didn’t smile.

  It snarled.

  POV: The Beast

  I remember fire.

  Then snow.

  Then silence.

  And the boy.

  Always the boy.

  I don’t remember my name.

  I don’t think I ever had one. Not in this shape.

  I was something else, once. Maybe someone.

  But that was before the echoes started screaming.

  Before I was pulled from a loop that didn’t finish.

  Before the gods turned away and let us rot between moments.

  I smell the mark.

  Now. In the wind.

  It cuts through every tree and wall and lie.

  The scent of something that should be erased.

  The Loopwalker.

  The one who carries the song of second chances.

  The one who doesn't die right.

  He is small now.

  But the scent is old.

  Older than the body he wears.

  Older than this version of the world.

  I know it.

  I hate it.

  I want it.

  It sings in my mind.

  That sound. That soulmark. That flavor of fate that tastes like undone endings.

  I see memories that aren’t mine—shattered reflections buried in my bones:

  A tower collapsing.

  A child burning from the inside out.

  A scream that ripples across six timelines and still hasn’t stopped.

  I crawl toward him.

  Not because I must.

  Because I am drawn. Like a dog to the hand that struck it. Like a moth to the wound in a star.

  He is the fracture.

  He is the hunger.

  And I want to eat what makes him different.

  Then—

  Pain.

  Real pain.

  A pulse. A voice. A wall of memory not my own.

  It slams into me like a scream whispered backward.

  Shadow.

  Not chaos.

  Not rage.

  Controlled.

  He has a Sentinel.

  A soul bound to him. Still intact.

  How?

  Why?

  Why wasn’t I given that?

  Why was I left behind?

  I feel something stir in my ribs that used to be a heart.

  Not anger.

  Not hunger.

  Jealousy.

  I will take his breath.

  I will take his guardian.

  I will take his loop.

  And maybe then—maybe—I will remember who I was before I became this curse made of teeth and timelines.

  The boy is close now.

  And the scent of him...

  smells like the end of all the things I forgot how to grieve.

  Samuel’s Perspective:

  I wake up to screams.

  They cut through my foggy head, sharp and relentless. My body is shaking, but I can’t tell if it’s from fear or something deeper. The world feels off—like it’s pressing in from all sides. My ears are ringing, my chest tight. The air smells… wrong.

  I’m on the floor, my hands pressed against the cold earth. My fingers are stiff, but something is moving in me. Something unnatural.

  It feels like heat beneath my skin, simmering with a pressure I don’t understand. My heart is racing, but it’s not from panic. It’s a primal instinct, like my body knows something I don’t.

  And then the ground trembles.

  A heavy, monstrous thud echoes through the village, followed by more—thick, unnatural footsteps. The earth vibrates under me, as though something impossibly large is approaching.

  The voice in my head—Velara—whispers something, but her words are lost in the chaos.

  Samuel. Do not…

  I hear nothing else. Her warning is drowned out as the shrieks of a beast grow louder. It’s coming. Closer. Faster.

  I scramble to my feet, my vision spinning as the air around me crackles with danger. My body—weak, fragile—doesn’t listen to me. But it listens to the danger. It recognizes it.

  Not again.

  I can’t fight this. I haven’t even learned how to walk properly yet.

  But it’s not a question of fighting anymore.

  It’s a question of survival.

  I push my hands against my temples, trying to force my mind back into control. But something is pulling—not just at my thoughts, but at my very soul. The ground beneath my feet shudders as if the beast is closer now, the weight of its presence pressing down on me.

  The Codex flares up—its voice cracking through my fog.

  System Response: Activation of Level 1 Defense Protocols.

  I feel the words more than hear them, like they’ve been etched into the very walls of my mind. They’re not clear, not fully formed, but they cut through the chaos.

  I struggle to stay on my feet, a wave of heat rushing through me, raw and untamed. My breath is erratic, and my body—I can’t control it.

  Then it happens.

  A surge of power.

  My body snaps to attention.

  The Fang.

  A ripple in the air as the relic reacts to my panic. It hums under my skin, pushing against my bones, urging me to move. To fight.

  No.

  I can’t. I’m not ready.

  But the Fang doesn’t care.

  It’s like it knows something I don’t. And in an instant, the heat that’s been smoldering in my chest erupts. The pain is unbearable, but it’s secondary.

  My hands glow.

  It’s not just the Fang anymore. It’s me—reacting to the threat, reacting to the creature that’s about to breach the village. My body is alive with energy, but I can’t stop it.

  And then, as if to answer my subconscious call, the beast roars—a sound so primal, so full of hunger, it chills my bones.

  The Codex responds, struggling to regain control.

  Warning: Host’s instinctual response exceeds acceptable thresholds. Engaging Manual Override.

  It’s too late.

  I feel it, deep within me—the flicker of recognition, the echo of something I shouldn’t know. The beast is no mere animal. Its presence is far older than the forest around us. It’s been here before. I can feel it. This isn’t a random creature. This is a predator. Something with purpose.

  I feel its hunger. Its anger. Its… brokenness.

  The Codex’s attempt to stabilize me flares, but the wildness inside me pushes back—the instinct to survive, to fight overwhelming everything else. My senses are on fire. My body is shaking, but not from weakness. This is power I don’t know how to control.

  But the beast knows.

  It’s here. It’s close.

  And I need to fight.

  I need to end it.

  Outside Ulaz Village

  The beast stands at the edge of the forest, its massive frame outlined by the moonlight.

  Its eyes gleam with ancient, predatory intelligence. But there’s something else behind them. Something that flickers, like a broken mirror catching the light.

  It is the shadow of something long forgotten. Something ancient, buried beneath the earth, waiting to be awakened.

  And now, it has come.

  The earth trembles under its feet as it steps forward, claws scraping the ground. The air around it ripples with an unnatural energy—like time itself is distorted in its presence.

  It is half-aware of its purpose, a being caught between its monstrous instincts and the shattered fragments of its former self. The loop has left its mark on it. And now, it will leave its mark on everything in its path.

  Inside the Village

  Dorian and Eliara are already moving, their swords drawn, ready for what’s coming.

  “It’s here,” Dorian mutters, his voice tight with urgency.

  Eliara’s eyes narrow. “It’s not just any beast. I can feel the mana from here. This thing is older than we are. We’ve got to protect the village. Samuel—!”

  But it’s too late.

  The roar of the beast fills the night, and everything shatters.

  Samuel:

  I step forward, my body burning with power I can't control.

  I hear Velara’s voice, distant and strained. Samuel—stop!

  But it’s not me anymore.

  I don’t hear her.

  I don’t care.

  I charge.

  My mind is too clouded to think. All I can do is react.

  I’ll stop it.

  I’ll stop it now.

  Dorian

  He’d never seen his son move like that.

  No stumbles. No hesitation. Not even a flinch.

  One moment, Samuel had been slumped on the floor of their home, a baby still learning how to breathe through nightmares—

  And the next?

  He walked.

  No—he strode through the broken doorway, barefoot and wrapped in the scent of scorched air, his eyes flickering with a glow that didn’t come from anything human.

  Shadow clung to his back like armor.

  The beast hadn’t even charged yet.

  But Samuel had. Without words. Without a sound.

  Without them.

  Dorian couldn’t move.

  Not at first.

  He’d faced monsters before. Killed bandits, beasts, men twice his size.

  But nothing had ever paralyzed him like the look in his son's eyes just now.

  That wasn't fear.

  It wasn't rage.

  It was clarity.

  Like the boy knew what he was meant for. And had stopped fighting it.

  “Dorian.”

  Eliara’s voice broke the moment.

  She stood beside him, her breath shallow, her eyes wide.

  She looked like she’d just seen a ghost.

  No—not a ghost.

  A god she couldn’t recognize.

  Eliara

  He looked beautiful.

  That’s what broke her.

  Her son—her tiny, broken, quiet little boy—glowed with a kind of power that made the grass curl away from his feet. The very light bent around him. And still, all she could see was his small hands—the ones she’d once taught to hold a spoon—now curled like claws.

  She wanted to scream his name.

  Wanted to run and hold him.

  But she didn’t move.

  Because what if he wasn’t Samuel anymore?

  She hated herself for thinking that.

  Hated how fast the fear crept in.

  How fast it replaced the love.

  > [Codex Emotional Sync Update: Eliara – 64% → 59%]

  [Anchor Integrity Wavering – Trust Fracture Detected]

  “She’s afraid of you now.”

  Samuel didn’t hear the Codex’s whisper.

  But he felt it.

  Somewhere behind his heartbeat, deep in the part of him that used to cry when Eliara left the room—he knew.

  She didn’t see her son anymore.

  She saw something loop-touched.

  He turned his head.

  Not fast.

  Just enough.

  His eyes met hers.

  And she flinched.

  Dorian

  “Don’t look at him like that,” Dorian said softly, stepping in front of her.

  Not angry.

  Just… breaking.

  “He’s still ours.”

  She didn’t answer.

  Because some part of her didn’t believe it.

  Samuel

  He didn’t understand what he’d done wrong.

  He hadn’t spoken.

  Hadn’t attacked.

  Hadn’t let the beast hurt anyone.

  But their eyes—

  They looked at him like he was already lost.

  Like he was already something they’d need to kill someday.

  Like he was just a prelude to a tragedy.

  Velara whispered in his mind, tender and tired.

  “Even the people who love you can fear you.”

  “Especially when you become what they never thought they’d have to protect themselves from.”

  > soul Integrity: 84%]

  [Emotional Resonance Tracker – WARNING]

  Bond with Eliara: Unstable

  Bond with Dorian: Strained but holding

  Velara Sync: Steady

  Samuel turned back toward the beast.

  The Codex flickered.

  So did his shadow.

  He didn’t cry.

  Didn’t scream.

  He just stepped forward—alone.