Veyor barely managed to tear his gaze away.

  Clarabelle’s eyes had found the gap.

  Not searching.

  Not scanning.

  Focused.

  For a split second, Veyor was certain she had seen him.

  His heart hammered violently against his ribs as he pulled back, breath caught halfway between panic and silence.

  Every instinct screamed to run, but fear locked his muscles, leaving him frozen beside the barn door.

  Then she turned away.

  Not alarmed.

  Not rushed.

  As if his presence did not matter.

  That terrified him more than being discovered.

  He staggered backward, then turned and ran.

  Not fast—quiet.

  Every step felt too loud, every breath too sharp.

  He forced himself to slow down, pressing a hand against his mouth as he moved toward the farmhouse.

  His legs felt weak, his stomach twisting violently as the realization settled in fully.

  The food.

  The milk.

  His body lurched, and he nearly fell.

  When he reached the house, his hand trembled as it closed around the handle.

  Before he could open the door, the ground shifted beneath his feet.

  A vibration.

  Low.

  Deep.

  Not a tremor, not an impact—footsteps.

  Each one sent a pulse through the soil, steady and deliberate. The earth responded like it recognized the weight pressing into it.

  Something was approaching.

  Something large.

  Veyor turned slowly.

  The field beyond the farmhouse was dark, lit only by moonlight and scattered lanterns. At first, he saw nothing—just shadows moving with the wind.

  Then one shadow didn’t move with the wind.

  It moved against it.

  A massive silhouette emerged from the darkness, towering over the fence line. Its shape was wrong—too tall, too broad, its outline uneven as it stepped forward.

  With every movement, the ground shuddered faintly, grass flattening beneath its weight.

  Veyor’s breath hitched.

  He didn’t wait to understand more.

  He rushed inside and slammed the door shut behind him, pressing his back against it as his chest heaved. His mind raced, trying to process too many threats at once.

  The first thing he saw after entering the house were unconscious soldiers.

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  “They’re asleep,” he whispered in disbelief.

  Everywhere he looked, soldiers lay motionless—on beds, against walls, across chairs. Some breathed shallowly. Others didn’t move at all. No groans. No murmurs. No signs of waking.

  “Wake up,” he whispered urgently, shaking one shoulder, then another.

  Nothing.

  He tried harder.

  Still nothing.

  Panic surged.

  He ran for the weapons.

  The racks were empty.

  Every rifle.

  Every blade.

  Gone.

  The realization hit him hard: the servants.

  They had taken everything while the soldiers slept.

  A movement caught his eye.

  One of the smaller cows—one of the servants—stood frozen near the doorway, eyes wide. She had noticed him.

  She saw that someone is awake.

  And she was afraid.

  She turned and ran.

  Toward the door.

  Toward Clarabelle. To inform her.

  Veyor lunged forward instinctively, but he was too slow.

  Before the servant could reach the exit, a blur of motion crossed the room.

  The servant collapsed.

  Lieutenant Luken stood over her, his fist still clenched, chest rising and falling as he regained balance. The cow lay unconscious at his feet.

  For the first time since leaving the barn, Veyor felt something close to relief.

  Panic broke the instant he saw someone standing.

  Seeing Lieutenant Luken meant this was no longer a lost situation.

  “Lieutenant…” His voice broke. “The barn—”

  “They’re harvesting humans,” Veyor blurted out, words tumbling over each other. “They’ve trapped them. Families. Villages. They’re—”

  “The meat we ate…. Was of humans .”

  “Stop,” Luken said sharply.

  Not dismissive.

  Focused.

  “Breathe.”

  Veyor forced air into his lungs.

  Luken’s eyes flicked around the room, assessing instantly.

  Clarabelle had been careful.

  She never forced anything. She understood that resistance, when met head-on, only hardened into suspicion.

  Instead, she let hesitation exist—allowed the soldiers to question, to doubt, to watch.

  The milk was offered gently, almost casually. At first, only a few accepted it. Others refused, wary of anything that came from a beast, no matter how human it appeared.

  Clarabelle did not argue with them. She simply waited.

  Then one of the wounded drank.

  The change was immediate.

  Bruises faded. Breathing steadied. Pain softened into relief. The transformation was subtle but undeniable, and it happened in front of everyone.

  Fear gave way to curiosity. Curiosity turned into hope.

  That was all it took.

  One by one, cups were accepted.

  A chain reaction driven not by trust, but by desperation. Clarabelle reinforced it with warmth—kind words, gentle gestures, a host’s patience. She made it feel safe. Necessary, even.

  But her focus was never on the crowd.

  It was on Luken.

  She ensured he was never excluded, never left watching while others recovered. When his turn came, he chose to drink—not because he trusted her, but because refusing would have marked him as an obstacle too early.

  He chose to play along, following the role she had prepared for him.

  Yet the outcome disappointed her.

  The milk worked, but only briefly. Its influence dulled faster than expected, slipping away before it could take hold completely.

  Luken remained weak, slowed, but conscious—his will intact.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Luken asks Veyor , “ How are you awake?”

  “My body threw it up.” Veyor replied.

  Luken nodded once.

  “That saved you.”

  Another vibration rolled through the house.

  Closer now.

  “Help me,” Luken said. “We move the others. Storage shed. Quietly.”

  They worked fast.

  Luken carried two at a time despite the stiffness in his limbs. Veyor dragged, supported, braced. Sweat soaked through his clothes as panic pushed his body beyond exhaustion.

  They hid the unconscious soldiers in the shed, positioning them carefully, covering them with tarps and equipment.

  Then they returned to the front of the house.

  They peered through the window.

  The creature was fully visible now.

  It stood nearly thirty feet tall.

  Its body was thick with muscle, hide stretched over a massive frame. The head resembled that of a bull, horns curving outward, eyes burning with intelligence that felt cruel rather than animal. Its limbs were long and powerful, hooves cracking stone as it moved.

  For a moment, Veyor’s mind reached for a word from legend. A minotaur. The resemblance was impossible to ignore.

  A creature born of muscle and fury, built only to dominate and destroy.

  In its hands—

  Humans.

  Alive.

  Carried as easily as sacks of grain.

  “From nearby villages,” Luken said grimly.

  The pressure in the air was overwhelming. Veyor’s legs trembled, his body responding to the creature’s presence before his mind could catch up.

  “I’ll engage it,” Luken said.

  “And Clarabelle,” he added calmly.

  “You go and rescue people from the barn quietly.”

  “Take them to storage shed.” He commanded Veyor.

  Veyor stared at him. “You can barely stand.” He hesitated and said “We should retreat.”

  “Retreat where?” Luken snapped. “Through fields? Carrying ten unconscious people?” He shook his head. “Impossible.”

  He placed a gun in Veyor’s hands.

  “Don’t lose your weapon again.”

  Then, softer: “You’re not useless. Remember that.”

  “Now go, save those people”

  “And don’t worry about me , you haven’t seen half of the things I am capable of.”

  Veyor nodded, throat tight.

  Veyor left the house from backside.

  Outside in the field , Clarabell was guiding the servants to put humans in the barn.

  Luken kicked the front door open.

  The sound cracked through the night.

  The creature turned.

  Luken stepped into the open, drawing his short, wide sword.

  “You ugly monster,” he shouted. “Looking for something?”

  The bull roared.

  The sound shook the farm, echoing through fields and barns alike.

  Clarabelle’s voice carried from the darkness.

  “You should have remained asleep, stranger.”

  Luken smiled.

  “I’ll sleep better after ending you both.”

  The battle had begun.