The dawn over Neanderthal crawled into the sky like a tired beast, pale and muted, casting long shadows over the outer woodland. The morning patrol trudged along the narrow, dirt-cleared guard path—six men wrapped in layered leathers, their boots sinking softly into the dew-soaked grass. Their torches crackled even though the sun was rising, for in that part of the kingdom, the mist clung stubbornly to the ground like a living thing.
They joked lightly at first, voices low, breaths visible in the chill.
"By the gods, if this cold worsens, I'll freeze 'fore I reach midday," one muttered.
Another laughed in reply—until one guard abruptly stopped walking and stepped off the path.
"Hold a moment. I need to water the bushes," he grumbled.
His fellow guards waved him off. "Make it quick, Tiarn. The Captain's got no patience for delays."
Tiarn wandered deeper through the ferns, fumbling with his belt—then froze.
The ground beneath his boot felt… wrong. Soft. Lumped.
He stepped back sharply and looked down.
What he saw hollowed the sound out of his lungs.
A girl—not more than seventeen—lay crumpled on her side, her long hair tangled with mud and leaves. Her dress was torn so violently it barely clung to her body. Her skin had the greyish pallor of candle wax that had long since gone cold.
Tiarn staggered back, hand trembling.
"Hoy! Ho—! Someone—!"
He couldn't finish the words before his voice cracked.
"Brothers! COME QUICK!"
The patrol came crashing through the brush.
When they saw her, the forest went still.
Some turned away instantly, faces twisted in revulsion.
Others whispered prayers under their breath.
One knelt—but only for a moment—then recoiled with an oath.
"What… in the gods' names…"
Then came the most chilling sight:
Her neck bore a torn gash, as though something had bitten deep into her flesh. And not a drop of blood pooled beneath her.
Her body was pale—drained, empty—bloodless in a way no human killer could achieve.
"An animal attack?" a guard whispered.
"But—what animal does this…?"
"And what creature," another muttered darkly, "assaults its prey like a man before killing it?"
No one answered.
The patrol wrapped her body gently in their cloaks and carried her back to the city, their steps fast and haunted, not daring to look back into the trees.
The court chamber was already alive with murmurs when the guards arrived in the castle.
The Hall of Kings, a vast dome of white-grey stone, towered overhead. Banners of deep blue and black draped the walls. Sunlight streamed through the tall arched windows, catching dust motes that floated like tiny drifting spirits. Marble pillars lined both sides, each carved with the ancient emblems of Neanderthal's rulers.
Dukes and duchesses filled the left gallery, clad in embroidered velvets and furs.
On the right sat the lesser nobles, scholars, advisors, and military commanders.
Men and women were intermixed, though the higher ranks sat nearer to the front, while the more ambitious climbed the back rows on tiptoe for better view.
The king's throne sat upon an elevated dais—silver-edged, iron-backed, ancient and imposing.
King Aldric of Neanderthal, stern-faced and sharp-eyed, presided over the assembly like a hawk over its territory.
"Let the meeting of the Royal Court commence," he commanded.
His advisor, quill in hand and scroll under arm, stepped forward to read the agenda.
He cleared his throat.
"First matter: His Highness Prince Levi's departure from the Harvest Ball last night without permission."
The nobles sighed collectively.
One woman muttered loudly, "Again with him…"
A baron near the front scoffed, "I didn't even know he attended."
A few chuckled.
Prince Alaric, standing beside the throne as though carved from stone, offered a stiff bow to his father.
"Father, I believe a firmer punishment may finally teach him discipline."
"Indeed!" shouted a noble. "Whip him twice as much as last time!"
"Whipping hasn't worked," another said.
"We could place him in the freezing vault for three days—no food."
"He'll survive that with ease," someone else muttered.
"The boy doesn't feel pain," one noble whispered under his breath.
"Then EXECUTE him," Alaric said sharply.
The chamber fell silent.
King Aldric turned his head slowly, disappointment tightening his jaw.
"This is not an execution chamber," he said coldly.
"It is a court of governance. Mind your tongue."
Alaric bowed his head instantly. "Forgive me, Father."
Before the matter continued, a herald rushed to the doors, bowing deeply.
"Your Majesty, the city guard requests immediate audience. It is urgent."
"Send them in," the king ordered.
The doors opened, and the guards entered—panting, armor smeared with dirt, one with dried blood on his sleeve.
They bowed low.
"Your Majesty…" the lead guard said breathlessly.
"A maiden was found dead at the edge of the eastern woods."
Gasps rippled through the court.
"Dead?"
"How?"
"Another one?"
The guard swallowed hard.
"She was assaulted… torn… and drained of all blood. And her neck—something ripped a piece out."
The nobles recoiled in horror.
One duchess covered her mouth, turning pale.
A commander muttered, "What beast kills like that?"
"And what beast assaults its prey like a man first?" a noblewoman whispered.
King Aldric rose from his throne, his expression darkening like a storm forming over the mountains.
"Have there been other signs?" he asked.
A steward stepped forward.
"Yes, Your Majesty. Livestock missing. Children unaccounted for. Travelers disappearing. Crops stolen from remote farms."
Murmurs swirled like wind in a crypt.
The king's jaw tightened as he turned glaring eyes toward Alaric.
"You knew of this?"
Alaric stiffened. "I—Father, I thought them isolated incidents—"
"Yet you did not report them," the king said sharply.
Shame flickered across Alaric's face.
King Aldric turned to the messenger.
"You will inform the girl's family of my condolences. They shall receive comfort and support."
Then to the guards:
"Double the patrols at once. No merchant, no villager, no child walks unguarded."
A hush fell over the hall.
"And the killer—or killers—must be found," the king declared.
"For no creature of Neanderthal has permission to hunt my people."
He turned sharply.
"Prince Alaric."
Alaric straightened, heart pounding.
"You will take your men," the king said, "and investigate. Every missing villager, every stolen goat, every footprint. Find who—or what—did this. And bring them to justice."
Alaric bowed deeply.
"Yes, Father. At once."
The king lifted a hand.
"This court is adjourned."
The nobles rose, murmuring in dread, already envisioning monsters in the mist.
And the kingdom of Neanderthal, without knowing it, stepped quietly toward the edge of a nightmare.
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