RAGNA POV...
I still remember how that last month slipped through my fingers almost too quietly, every single day spent guiding Oge through the strange rhythms of her powers until, little by little, she stopped flinching at every whisper of the unseen and began to move with a confidence that scared and impressed me at the same time, and before I could even properly process it my fifth birthday arrived, marking five full years since I’d been thrown into this world with secrets far heavier than a child’s body should ever carry.
Within the very first week of turning five, that fragile sense of ease I’d grown used to became almost unbearable in its own way, not because anything was wrong, but because things felt too calm, and yet I didn’t complain, because after Oge became a Banshee I trusted her more than anyone—if fate ever twitched, if the future so much as sneezed, I knew I’d be the first one she’d warn.
On top of that, my secret minions and I had stopped being just accomplices in survival and had slowly turned into something resembling friends, our vegetable sales spreading through the area like wildfire until five gold coins a day became the bare minimum, and every time John and Elina looked at me with those relieved, almost disbelieving smiles, I could tell my efforts had become far more than "extra" income—it had become hope.
And just like that, another day dragged itself to its end, night settling in gently... or so I thought.
Earlier that day, Oge had started complaining about a sudden fever, her body burning unnaturally hot as coughing wracked her frame nonstop, and at first everyone brushed it off as one of her usual tricks, but the longer it went on the more wrong it felt, until worry clung to the room like damp air. I forced myself to smile, to reassure Elina, John, and Ada that it was nothing serious, just a minor fever, all while fear gnawed at my chest so hard it almost hurt to breathe.
Watching her writhe in pain, an idea struck me—reckless, desperate, but impossible to ignore—and before I could second-guess myself I offered her my blood, reasoning that unlike me, Banshees drank blood rather than feeding on flesh, and maybe... just maybe... that was what her body was screaming for.
The moment she drank it, I saw it—the faint orange tinge in her pupils fading away as if wiped clean, the fever retreating like a tide pulling back from shore—and when Belle finally exhaled, she looked like someone who had just crawled back from hell itself.
"How do you feel now?"
Everyone stared at her, breath held, because she looked pale beyond reason, her hair a tangled mess framing a face that made my heart clench with unease, and the fact that she’d been in such pain had already robbed everyone of sleep. Seeing her recover was like being granted permission to breathe again.
Once she reassured us she was fine, exhaustion hit Elina and John all at once, and they decided it was time for everyone to rest—the kind of tired that only comes after thinking you might lose someone you love—and honestly, I couldn’t blame them.
But the moment they finished speaking and stood up, something felt off.
Belle stood too... yet she didn’t move. Her back arched unnaturally, her long black hair falling forward and completely hiding her face, and we all assumed she was just stretching after lying on the floor for so long. Elina, John, and Ada headed toward their rooms, while I lingered close to Belle, unease creeping up my spine.
She still hadn’t moved.
I tapped her lightly, once... twice.
That was when she lifted her head, and I found myself staring straight into eyes stained with red-orange light, locked onto me with terrifying intensity.
"Oge... are you okay?"
She answered without words.
Her hands snapped forward, fingernails elongating into sharp claws as she gripped my hands with crushing force, her nails digging deep into my palms, and in that instant a violent ripple slammed across my face and ears like a physical blow.
[Harbinger of Death has been Activated!]
[Time left before Harbinger of Death deactivates: 00:05]
[0:4]
The scream that tore out of Oge was beyond sound—it was devastation given form—and my mind went blank as the world shook, the force of it like standing beside a massive loudspeaker turned to its limit. My parents collapsed to the floor in panic, hands clamped over their ears as blood splattered across the ground, while my vision swam violently.
[Cursed Regeneration has been Activated]
Ada dropped unconscious instantly, her body unable to withstand the wave.
[0:2]
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even raise my hands to cover my ears. Belle’s grip held me in place like iron shackles, my body glued to the floor as if reality itself had decided I wasn’t allowed to escape.
[Cursed Regeneration has been Activated]
Warm liquid streamed down from my eyes and ears, dripping onto the floor just as—
[Harbinger of Death has been Deactivated]
—Oge collapsed.
I reached for her instinctively... and then—
Voices.
Screams.
Songs. Loud, shrill, wrong.
My body jolted as if waking from a nightmare, my sensitive ears recoiling from the noise, confusion slamming into me all at once.
’What the hell just happened?
Was that a distorted premonition... or something else?’
The screams meant danger—immediate, undeniable danger—and when I noticed the fire torches outside casting massive shadows over our house, my chest tightened in panic. I turned my head, only to freeze.
My parents were standing.
Ada was conscious.
No one was bleeding.
Oge stood before me, her hair still hiding her face, red-orange light lingering in her pupils—yet she wasn’t looking at me anymore.
She was staring at the door.
Outside, shadows stretched and multiplied like a meteor shower crashing down, the ground trembling as firewood sizzled violently, and in that horrifying clarity, I understood.
The Holy Shrine had arrived.
The ones who brought the Cursed child Saga with them.
I looked at my parents, and the horror etched on their faces made them look like frightened children swallowed by darkness. John stood frozen, words refusing to leave his mouth, while Elina collapsed to her knees, tears falling like rain.
My chest felt hollow.
I’d seen it.
I’d lived it.
Oge’s outcry had dragged me into the future—and yet the very disaster I’d tried to avoid had already come to pass before I could lift a finger.
’How is this happening?
Wasn’t it supposed to be every ten years?
Then what was that Banshee outcry...?’
Fear wrapped around my thoughts as the front door shuddered violently, barely holding together like fragile glass at its breaking point, and as I remembered the stories my parents used to tell about demon children and the Holy Shrine, one question echoed endlessly in my mind—
Was what I’d seen a premonition...
or was this absurd, merciless reality?