Prologue

The golden sun slowly dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the sleepy town. The streets, once bustling with voices and footsteps, grew quiet and deserted as the day drew to a close. The soft whispers of the wind echoed through the empty alleyways, carrying with it a sense of anticipation.

In a small house nestled on the edge of town, a family sat gathered around a flickering candle, their faces with the slightest worry. Little Kenneth, their youngest child, should have returned home hours ago, but there was still no sign of him. His absence was present, yet unnoticeable.

Mrs. Shaw, Kenneth's mother, cooked the typical stew she always likes to make, her eyes darting to the clock on the wall. With each passing minute, her anxiety deepened, and a knot formed in her stomach. Mr. Shaw, a gentle and caring father, tried his best to mask his concern, but the crease on his forehead betrayed his inner turmoil.

Within their dwelling, the gentle ticking of the clock seemed to grow louder, magnifying the passing moments. Little were they aware of the fact that Kenneth, their seemingly lost son, was just beyond the door.

"You have any idea what time it is?" snapped Zenith, Kenneth's elder sister. The couple thought their names should rhyme, signifying their filiality, but it's more comical than anything.

Kenneth simply looked at the bronze-framed clock hung high on the wall, directly opposite to the main door. "It's 7:38. Why?" he said, with an innocent yet obvious pretense.

"Dumbass." she remarked, walking turning around and lightly smacking his nape. "You do know we thought you're lost."

"In that case, it's not me who's dumb." he kicked off his shoes on the cramped hallway, walking in with dirtied socks.

It's not long before he has to walk in the dining room to face his (sort of) worried parents. Sooner rather than later, he thought. As such, he just dusts the mineral soil off his shorts and shirt, before walking past the open, dark-framed door.

"This seems like a nice time to arrive." said Mr. Shaw, chuckling nervously, already sitting opposite to Kenneth. Lightening the mood, lest his wife erupts into a rage, only to end up losing both his eardrums.

Kenneth just squeezes his lips together, like a reverse pout of sorts. Sitting on the polished, mahogany chair, he rests his head on his childlike arm. "I was just playing with my friends."

"Yes, but you are supposed to be on time, you know?" his stubbly mustache curls with his lips to a pleasant, fatherly grin. "It's okay for now, but don't repeat it-"

"Or else, I'll be the one talking." says Kenneth's mother, turning around with a glare in her eyes, her seemingly normal countenance lying over invisible annoyance. She was a youthful, beautiful woman to most others, but ironically frightening to her own family. The storm passes by as she turns back to the stove, tossing the sizzling meat on the pan.

"Y-yeah..." you wouldn't expect someone with a husky cadence as Mr. Shaw's to be as timid as he was right then, but it is what it is. "You know, my son... times like this, when the stars are visible, are pretty... scary times. There are people who want to hurt you roaming around, and..."

"Stop it, papa." Kenneth says, interrupting him. "This is the thousandth time I'm hearing this."

"Ah, well..." Mr. Shaw chuckles nervously, looking at Mrs., slightly unsure of how to definitively convince his slightly rebellious son, too young for freedom, yet too old to be scared with bedtime stories. "I haven't even told you what they are."

"Vampires, right?" Kenneth asks, fully knowing the answer. His father chuckles in childish defeat, as he rolls his eyes and sighs. "They don't exist, papa. School told me about this."

"Not everything taught in school is correct, son." he says, standing up to help Mrs. Shaw prepare the table. "It'll take time, but you'll realize it."

"Well, if it's not vampires, it's probably those funny looking giants you keep talking about." Kenneth responds, drawing out letters on the synthetic tablecloth with his tiny, fine fingers. All he could think was, really? Why would father and mother, so intellectual and experienced, believe in the falsehood of such strange monsters? It's clearly just a way to scare him away from the darkness of the fields, and nothing more. He wasn't gonna be scared though. He was too bright to believe in such mythical claims.

"Anyways." Mrs. Shaw sits down on the chair adjacent to Kenneth, after hanging her ever-so-slightly stained kitchen apron on the nearby hook. "You're coming home at 7PM from now on, sharp."

"It's not like I can tell the time, ma." Kenneth looks at her sideways, clearly taunting her, yet believing his childish status would excuse him.

"As soon as the sky gets dark." she replies. She joins her hands, silently reciting a brief prayer within herself, before commencing the meal.

And of course, Kenneth had to accept his fate. Even as his blank, silvery eyes listlessly stared at the ceiling, he kept thinking of the ascertained restriction, and the fact that he's got to watch out for the heavens once the crickets begin to chirp. But what bothered him the most was how he felt so belittled, so childlike, as his parents assumed he'd be disciplined with nothing more than a vampiric threat of sorts. He rolls his head over, closing his eyes and joining his sharp eyelashes, before laying off to a slumber. Sure, he'd come home early. But never will the days go bad enough for him to believe in monsters.

Yet, eight years later, he finds himself running through a forest with no finish line, his blazer stained with dried blood, escaping from an abduction camp. The sound of crunching leaves and sloppy mud being His trembling legs swung back and forth as he forced himself to run, for every minor chance of survival. The damp scent of earth and moss permeates the air, mingling with Kenneth's growing perspiration as he pushes himself to the limit. His every instinct tells him to keep moving, to find safety beyond the trees and darkness that enclose him.

Fear grips him tightly, urging him to quicken his pace even as fatigue threatens to slow him down. The fear of being crushed by something he ironically found too absurd to believe in as a child, his entire perspective now altered in adulthood. The fear of being crushed by the same funny looking giant he used to joke about to his friends, as they morphed into actuality.