Rayfe ran. Through the burning landscape which he once called home, he could make out the old farmer’s fields, the tavern where travellers often stayed, and the carpenter’s shed, and numerous corpses of people he once knew - all burning to ashes as he sought to escape them.

  Then, he was out of the village, the hellish landscape behind him. His lungs felt like they were on fire - the coppery smell of blood, the suffocating taste of smoke, the sight of the inferno - all of these weighing on his back made him feel like he was carrying the world itself. Yet he kept running. Kept trying to leave the pain behind. But it followed him, like a hound chasing its prey.

  Has it been hours? days? weeks? He didn’t even know. The concept of time meant nothing to him now. The only thing he was conscious about was his feet struggling to move below him, trying to get him as far from the nightmare as possible.

  When he couldn’t run anymore, he slowed to a jog. Then a walk. Then his legs buckled and folded below him, and he collapsed to the ground, tasting the earthy texture of dirt. But he crawled on, determined to keep going, even though he did not know where he was. He just wanted to get away. Get the crushing weight off his chest.

  Until he stopped. His eyelids slowly fell shut as he couldn’t muster up any more energy. His consciousness faded, sending him into a temporary reprieve.

  Shick… Shick…

  The sound of metal grinding against stone pulled Rayfe from the dark.

  Then, he felt the rough wooden floor below him. He creaked open his eyes, his body feeling like a sack of flour. Before him, sitting on a bed, was a man in his forties. He was sharpening a dagger with a whetstone. His eyes looked like an eagle’s, always eyeing the next prey.

  There was a prominent scar across his face, that started from the left side of his forehead and ran vertically downwards, over his left eye which was somehow still intact, and ended at his cheekbone.

  He had messy and unkempt shoulder length hair, looking as if it was hacked with a knife. Beard stubble dotted his chin. He wore plain clothes, but had a cross-body belt that stored multiple daggers. Beside him lay a wide-brimmed hat and a neatly folded cloak of the darkest blue.

  “You’re awake, kid?”

  His voice was low and raspy, like the grinding of stones.

  “Mom…. Dad…. Selene…”

  He regained his senses and slowly, groggily sat up.

  “Where… where am I? And who are you?”

  “Marlen. This is a local inn. I’m Silas Farrowe. I’m a hunter.”

  “Mr. Farrowe-”

  “Call me Silas.” He snapped.

  “Silas.” Rayfe corrected himself. “What… What’s Marlen?”

  Silas stopped sharpening his dagger and slotted it back in his belt.

  “Small town. In the northern part of Orthage.”

  “Orthage… I’ve heard that name before, from the travellers that pass by my village.”

  “Everyone’s heard that name before.” He scoffed. “The strongest kingdom in Valoria.”

  “…Valoria?”

  Silas gave an exasperated sigh. “You really don’t know anything, do you?”

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  Rayfe shook his head. “Not really… I’ve never left my village. Not until now, at least.”

  “That reminds me. What’s a kid like you doing passing out on the road like that? You ran away from home?”

  A fresh wave of pain struck his heart at the reminder of his village.

  “My home… It's gone… it’s all gone… my home… my family…”

  Rayfe gasped out as he started sobbing.

  Silas paused, and cast a blank gaze outside the window. “I’m sorry.”

  “N-no. It’s fine. Now you know. I’m just a kid from a small village. I don’t know anything about this world and how it works. I just… one day, I woke up, and it was all… it burned to ashes.”

  Rayfe felt the constricting tightness in his throat and his tears rolling down his cheeks. The unspoken words remained in his head, even though Silas could guess what he was saying. My family was taken from me, and I couldn’t do anything about it.

  He lay down on the cold hard tavern floor, the wood rough against his face, and started bawling. And throughout all the shock, the pain, the grief, Silas sat there - like an anchor in the stormy sea, calm and unmoving, he waited for Rayfe to finish.

  …

  After Rayfe’s cries of anguish softened to sobs, Silas spoke.

  “Are you better now?”

  “Y-yes… I think so.”

  “I’ll explain the world to you. Listen carefully - I’m not going to repeat this again.”

  Rayfe looked up, his tear-stained face showing a flicker of interest.

  Silas picked up another blade and started sharpening it against the whetstone.

  Shick… Shick…

  “The world is mainly made up of two continents - Valoria, which is where we are, and Xianlong, in the east.”

  Shick.

  “I’ve been to Xianlong a few times. It’s not fun - many pirates on the boat ride there.”

  Shick.

  “So, in Valoria, we have Orthage, which is where we are now, in the middle of the continent.”

  Shick.

  “To the south there’s Solis, which is the Holy City. The church is based there - best not to mess with those lunatics. Further south from there is the desert.”

  Shick.

  “To the north of Orthage are the forests and mountains. There’s a school for mages hidden in the forest somewhere, but you don’t look like the wizard type.”

  Shick.

  “The mountains are where the Void Dragon appeared seven years ago - I was part of the team that took it down. See this scar?”

  Silas turned his face and lifted his hair so that Rayfe could better see his scar.

  “I got it from fighting the dragon.”

  Silas let down his hair and continued sharpening the knife.

  “But now, the mountains are overrun by bandits. The Red Goblin Bandits. They’re all over the world, and they pillage villages, kill and enslave their people…”

  “Red… Red Goblins…” Rayfe’s fist clenched, remembering the bandits raiding his village.

  “They are marked by ribbons of different colours. White for land bandits, black for pirates, blue for squad captains…”

  Rayfe’s heart clenched in anger. “Red Goblins… they… they were the ones who attacked my village.”

  “They attacked mine too.” Silas’s eyes flashed with a hint of menace.

  Rayfe fell silent. He imagined Silas as a kid, running away from the same monstrous people that attacked his village.

  Shick.

  “Further north are the ice plains.” Silas continued.

  Shick. Shick.

  “In all this wilderness, there are Rifts. Have you heard of them?”

  “I think so… I’ve overheard some travellers at the inn talking about rifts. What are they?.”

  Shick.

  “Rifts… They can appear at any time, any place, and they can be any size. What we call the monsters, they come from the rift.”

  “M-monsters?” Rayfe’s glossy eyes widened.

  Shick.

  “Yes, monsters. They’re real. Though none of them have appeared in your village, I assume.”

  “These monsters, they come into our world and kill people. It’s part of their nature. If they spot any humans, they will kill them, and they will consume them.”

  Shick.

  “However, we can also kill them.”

  “Kill… monsters?”

  Shick.

  “Yes. We kill monsters, and we obtain their cores. We call them Rift-stones.”

  At the mention of Rift-stones, Rayfe instantly filled with a mix of emotions - sadness, anger, and curiosity.

  “Rift-stones?”

  Shick.

  “Yes. By consuming the rift-stones, we can obtain the monster’s powers. We call these powers Echoes.”

  “The bandits… when they burned down my house, they said… they asked my father for a rift-stone.”

  Silas’s movements stilled.

  “Your father had a rift-stone?” Silas leaned forward, his stoic face showing interest for the first time. “How did he get one?”

  “I… I have no idea. Before he… passed on, my father told me to search for a box below my parents’ bed.

  “And… a bandit asked him for a Rift-stone.”

  “Then… when my house was… burning, I saw a floating blue gem.”

  “It floated towards me… Then I think… It spoke? It said something like… ‘Genesis Gate’. Then there was a flash of light, and it… it started hurting a lot. But then, it disappeared, and there was a small floating door there. I don’t remember all of the details exactly, but… that’s… that’s the best I can remember.”

  Silas paused, deep in thought.

  “You… you have an echo.”