KIRA
                         ___________

The entire village had gathered around the large bonfire, a nightly tradition that offered warmth against the chilly air.

Apart from the village head's commanding voice, the only sounds were the hoots of owls and the chirping of crickets. We sat spellbound as she narrated the tale of our creator, Arathes.

I’d heard this story countless times, like every other hunter, but it never failed to fascinate me.

The idea that hunters were created with a divine purpose—to protect another species—always struck a chord.

We played a crucial role in humanity’s survival, though it came at a cost. Still, we were constantly reminded: it was an honor.

"Lord Arathes then sent the half-demigod down to Earth," she declared.

The crowd gasped, as they always did.

"So, he's here with us?" a girl asked. Her black hair, streaked with green at the tips, marked her as an elemental hunter, one with the power to manipulate soil. Elementals were easy to identify; their features betrayed their abilities.

"Yes, my child."

"Has anyone seen him?" another girl piped up.

"Yes."

"Did the being survive?" the same girl pressed.

"Yes."

I stiffened at the revelation.

My mother had spoken of the half-demigod sent down from heaven by Lord Arathes, describing him just as the holy texts did: evil yet terrifyingly beautiful.

According to legend, anyone unfortunate enough to encounter him never lived to tell the tale. This new information was both shocking and intriguing.

"Really?" The word escaped me before I could stop it.

Heads turned in my direction, their stares sharp and curious.

I hated being the center of attention. I rarely spoke during gatherings unless directly addressed, and some villagers even whispered I might be mute. I couldn’t blame them.

The village head’s fiery eyes fixed on me, their dark blue depths laced with streaks of orange, yellow, and red, forming a mesmerizing, flame-like pattern. From a distance, they seemed to burn. Her gaze always left me feeling exposed, as though she could see straight into my soul. She was the only fire elemental in our village.

"Yes, dear," she said, her smile smoothing the lines on her face. "I know someone who has met him and survived."

Even the owls and crickets fell silent as we absorbed her words.

"It's late now. Goodnight, everyone," she announced, dismissing us with a wave of her hand. The bonfire extinguished instantly, plunging the clearing into darkness.

I had witnessed this countless times, yet I still stared as if it were the first.

Sometimes, I wished I had an elemental gift or a power like my mother’s ability to control minds. Instead, I was different—an oddity. Powerless. An embarrassment to our kind.

As the villagers dispersed, chattering about the village head’s revelation, I couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could survive an encounter with the half-demigod.

I glanced back at her, and to my surprise, found her already watching me.

"Come, Kira," she called, turning and walking away.

Her direct address startled me, but I quickly followed, falling into step beside her.

"Have you ever heard of healers?" she asked as soon as I caught up.

I frowned, searching my memory. "I think so."

"What do you know about them?" she prompted.

"Didn’t the vampires kill them all?" I ventured hesitantly.

She chuckled softly. "They weren’t just killed, dear—they were annihilated."

Isn’t that the same thing?

"After the death of the immortal and before the prophecy, Lord Arathes created a new species of supernatural beings called healers," she began, turning her fiery gaze toward me. "They were the most powerful beings to ever walk the Earth, though not in battle. Their purpose was to heal the world from the evil Zalas had unleashed. They didn’t reproduce like us or humans. They were simply sent from heaven."

My mind swirled with questions as she continued.

"Healers didn’t just heal bodies; they mended souls," she added, her smile fading into sorrow. "The vampires believed healers could take away their agony during the blood moon—the half- demigod’s birthday. Worse, they thought healers could summon Zalas's soul from hell."

I gasped, unable to contain my shock.

She nodded solemnly. "The vampires sought to resurrect Zalas, believing his return would grant them dominion over the universe. They believed healers were powerful enough to achieve it."

"What happened to them?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"The vampires captured every healer they could find. When their efforts failed, they destroyed them all. Lord Arathes never sent another."

A heavy silence fell between us, the weight of her words settling over me. Sadness warred within me—for the loss of such remarkable beings.

"Oh, cheer up, child. God has promised us a savior," she said.

I nodded halfheartedly. After a moment of silence, I asked, "But how could anyone survive an encounter with the half-demigod?"

She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "No one did. I just didn’t want the children to be consumed by more fear."

I didn’t press her, understanding her reason.

"Thank you for telling me about the healers," I said quietly.

To my surprise, she reached out and tucked a braid of my hair behind my ear.

"We wait on the savior, Kira. Everything will be as it should be soon; just believe," she said softly.

I nodded despite the urge to tell her the prophecy was a lie and there was no saving us.

                 _____________________

                   AUTHOR'S NOTE

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