Fantasy Story

EXT. GRIMWOOD VILLAGE – DAY A peaceful village nestled between towering mountains and endless green fields. The sunlight spills over wooden rooftops, casting a golden glow. The air is filled with the distant clatter of a blacksmith’s hammer, the rhythmic creaking of wooden carts, and the occasional...

EXT. GRIMWOOD VILLAGE – DAY A peaceful village nestled between towering mountains and endless green fields. The sunlight spills over wooden rooftops, casting a golden glow. The air is filled with the distant clatter of a blacksmith’s hammer, the rhythmic creaking of wooden carts, and the occasional laughter of children chasing each other through narrow dirt paths. The village feels alive, yet strangely contained—as if its people know exactly how far their world stretches and dare not venture beyond. At the marketplace, a merchant haggles with a farmer, both standing beside a cart of fresh vegetables. FARMER (grinning, hands on hips) These radishes are the finest you’ll find this season, Haji. I should charge you double! MERCHANT (HAJI) (chuckling, waving a hand) Double? You must’ve hit your head in the fields. I’ll take a sack— but at the usual price. He tosses a few coins into the farmer’s hand. Nearby, an elderly woman inspects a silk scarf at another stall. ELDERLY WOMAN (frowning, running her fingers over the fabric) Too thin. This won’t last a winter. The shopkeeper, a young girl, bites her lip nervously. SHOPKEEPER (softly) It’s light for the summer, Granny Mei. The old woman pauses, then nods approvingly. ELDERLY WOMAN Hmm. Clever girl. I’ll take two. Across the way, a group of men—fishermen, clay pot makers, and a blacksmith—sit on a low stone wall, resting after the morning’s labor. One of them, Boru, takes a long sip from a wooden flask. BORU (sighing, stretching his arms) I swear, if the heat keeps up, I’ll melt before my pots do. The blacksmith, arms crossed, lets out a deep chuckle. BLACKSMITH Then maybe you should be the one in the kiln instead of the clay. The men laugh heartily, their voices blending into the gentle hum of village life. EXT. RIVERSIDE – LATE AFTERNOON The camera drifts past the village, following the faint whisper of the wind. The golden afternoon slowly melts into a deeper amber as the sky shifts toward sunset. Beyond the last row of houses, a shallow river snakes along the village’s edge. The gentle flow of water against smooth stones fills the air, accompanied by the occasional chirp of birds preparing for nightfall. Sitting on a large rock near the riverbank, TENZU (17) skips stones across the surface. He is lean, slightly rugged, wearing a simple tunic and straw sandals. His hands are rough from labor, but his eyes are somewhere else—distant, quiet, searching. Each stone he flicks skips once, twice, three times before vanishing beneath the water. He picks up another. FOOTSTEPS crunch against the pebbled shore behind him. JIN (O.S.) You sit here every evening, and yet I’ve never seen you catch a fish. Tenzu doesn’t turn. He simply flicks another stone across the water. TENZU I don’t come here to fish. Jin, followed by two other boys, steps beside him. He smirks, crouching near the water. JIN Then what do you do? Meditate like those old monks? Tenzu doesn’t answer immediately. He watches as the river reflects the slow-setting sun, the glow shimmering like liquid gold. TENZU I just like the quiet. Jin scoffs. JIN You and your quiet. No wonder you barely talk to anyone. You’d rather throw rocks at the river than throw a punch. The other boys chuckle, but Tenzu remains calm. He flicks another stone —one, two, three skips—then finally turns toward Jin. TENZU I could say the same about you. You throw words, not fists. The laughter stops for a brief second. Jin’s smirk twitches, but instead of lashing out, he tilts his head, amused. JIN (chuckling) Maybe. But I also don’t spend my days hiding indoors after sunset. Tenzu stiffens slightly at the mention of sunset. The village’s biggest rule. The one no one dares to break. Jin leans in, lowering his voice slightly. JIN Tell me, Tenzu—do you really believe in all that? The Three-Headed Vikings, the full moon, the cursed sword? Tenzu exhales slowly, tossing a stone into the water—not skipping it this time, just letting it sink. TENZU...It’s just an old story. A long pause. The sky deepens to a burnt orange. The shadows stretch longer across the ground. Then—the village bells ring. Once. Twice. Three times. A signal. Nightfall is near. Jin straightens, cracking his knuckles. JIN Guess we’ll never know... unless someone’s brave enough to test it. He pats Tenzu’s shoulder roughly before walking off, the others following. Their laughter fades down the path. Tenzu watches the river, his grip tightening around another stone. Doubt flickers in his eyes he wonders if the rumors could be real. A voice suddenly breaks his trance. FARMER (O.S.) Tenzu! You don’t want to be out here too late. Tenzu turns to see an elderly farmer, standing near the pathway with a concerned look. FARMER (lowering his voice) It’s 6:45. Your mother must be worried. Tenzu exhales, snapping out of his thoughts. He tosses the stone into the river, dusts off his hands, and quickly starts heading back toward the village. EXT. GRIMWOOD VILLAGE – DUSK As Tenzu crosses the fields, Grimwood Village comes into view, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. The sky, once blue, is now painted in deep oranges and purples. The village hums with the last remnants of the day’s life. A shopkeeper and a customer haggle over the price of fresh vegetables. SHOPKEEPER (grinning, shaking his head) That’s the best price you’ll get, my friend. Unless you want to buy after dark— The customer pales, shaking his head quickly. CUSTOMER No, no. That won’t be necessary. The shopkeeper’s grin falters slightly. He glances at the sky, then starts packing up hurriedly. Nearby, a group of men sit outside a blacksmith’s forge, laughing as they sip warm rice wine. But their laughter is forced, their eyes shifting toward the darkening sky. Tenzu walks past a small pottery shop where an old man hastily stacks his clay bowls. His hands tremble as he glances toward the sky. OLD MAN (MUTTERING) It’s getting late… too late. A young boy, no older than ten, watches curiously. YOUNG BOY Grandfather… why do we have to go inside so early? The old man pauses, his weathered hands tightening around a bowl. His eyes darken for a moment, but then he forces a gentle smile. OLD MAN Because night is meant for resting, child. Nothing more. He ruffles the boy’s hair, but his voice is tight—almost rehearsed. Tenzu slows his pace, taking in the scene around him. He watches how the joy from earlier fades, replaced by hurried movements and worried glances. His jaw tightens as he mutters under his breath: TENZU All because of some old legend… His fingers curl slightly. For his whole life, he’s been told to fear the night. The Three-Headed Vikings. The cursed prophecy. But deep down, he still doesn’t believe it. Yet, as he watches grown men move with panic, securing their homes like trapped animals, doubt flickers in his mind once again. EXT. VILLAGE PATH – NIGHTFALL The village bells ring once more—a final warning. Tenzu continues walking along the dirt path. Around him, the village shutters itself away. A mother pulls her daughter inside, bolting the door. A merchant snuffs out his lantern, face tense. Footsteps echo behind him. Tenzu turns. It’s an elderly monk, draped in a simple robe, moving slowly toward a small temple near the village entrance. His head is bowed, lips moving in silent prayer. Tenzu watches as the monk places a talisman on the temple’s door. The paper flutters for a moment, then settles, glowing faintly in the dim light. TENZU (quietly, to himself) Even the monks fear it… His fists clench. He quickens his pace, hurrying toward home. INT. TENZU’S HOME – NIGHT The wooden door creaks open. Tenzu steps inside, the warm glow of a small fire pit flickering in the dimly lit home. A wooden sword leans against the corner—his father’s, untouched for years. His mother, RINA, sits near the fire, stitching a cloth. She looks up, her sharp eyes narrowing. RINA Tenzu. You’re late. Tenzu sighs, setting down his satchel. TENZU (grumbling) I lost track of time. His mother shakes her head, placing her stitching aside. RINA You should know better. No one stays out after dark. Tenzu scoffs, sitting across from her. TENZU Because of the Three-Headed Vikings? His tone is laced with sarcasm, but Rina’s face remains serious. RINA Yes. A beat of silence. Tenzu leans back, arms crossed. TENZU Mother… do you really believe in that rumour? Rina is quiet for a moment. Then, she stands, walking to a wooden chest in the corner. She unlatches it, revealing something wrapped in cloth. She lifts it carefully—a long object, wrapped tightly in silk. Tenzu watches as she slowly unwraps it, revealing the gleaming hilt of a sword. His father’s sword. The light from the fire dances against the silver blade, its edge still sharp despite its years of neglect. Tenzu’s breath stills. TENZU (softly) Father’s sword… Rina gently traces a finger along the hilt, eyes clouded with memory. RINA Your father believed in that story. He died because of it. Her voice is steady, but there is something buried deep within it— pain, grief… or perhaps fear. Tenzu stares at the blade. For the first time, he doesn’t have a quick response. The fire crackles, filling the heavy silence between them. A gust of wind rattles the window. Outside, the village is silent— but the feeling in the air is unnerving. Tenzu grits his teeth. Somewhere deep inside him, a small ember of doubt begins to burn. The fire flickers, casting long shadows on the wooden walls. The weight of his mother’s words lingers in the air. Tenzu’s fingers hover over the hilt of the sword, his mind racing. He can still feel it—the strange pull when he first touched it, as if something deep within him had stirred. Rina exhales softly, running her hand along the worn surface of the table. RINA (slowly) Your father… he was not just a simple man of this village. Tenzu’s grip tightens. TENZU You said he believed in that story. The one about the Three- Headed Viking. Rina nods, her eyes distant, as if looking at something far beyond this moment. RINA Yes. And because of that belief… he chose a path that led to his death. The wind howls outside, a low, eerie sound that sends a shiver down Tenzu’s spine. He hesitates before speaking again, his voice quieter this time. TENZU (softly) How… did he die? For a moment, Rina does not answer. Her fingers still against the table, and then she turns away, staring into the fire. RINA (slowly) Some truths are not so easily spoken, Tenzu. But I suppose… it is time you knew. She moves toward a small wooden chest near the corner of the room. Kneeling beside it, she lifts the lid, revealing an old scroll, its edges slightly burned, its surface worn from time. Tenzu watches, his heart pounding as she carefully unrolls it across the table. The faded ink depicts an ancient battle, warriors standing against a monstrous, three-headed figure with glowing eyes. TENZU (whispering) Is this…? RINA (nods) The war that nearly ended this world. The war against him. Tenzu’s breath slows as he studies the image. The Three-Headed Viking, towering over warriors, fire and destruction raging around him. The ink strokes, though old, seem almost alive—as if they still carry the fear of those who first recorded them. TENZU What… was he? Rina’s hands tighten into fists. RINA (quietly) A nightmare that was never meant to exist. The fire crackles again, but this time, it feels different. Darker. Its glow stretches across the small room, casting long, restless shadows that flicker against the wooden walls. Outside, the night is unnervingly silent. Not even the wind dares to move. Tenzu watches his mother closely. The way she grips the old scroll—the way her breath hitches before she speaks—tells him that this isn’t just a story. It’s something more. Something real. Rina slowly unrolls the parchment, her fingers trailing over the ancient ink. The delicate strokes of a three-headed beast, its jagged form towering over burning villages, seem almost alive beneath the candlelight. Her voice is quiet when she finally speaks. RINA There was a time before kings. Before this village, before these lands. The world was wild—untamed, lawless. The strong ruled, the weak perished. Tenzu listens in silence, drawn into the weight of her words. RINA (CONT’D) But among them… there was one who was different. Her fingers hover over the center of the scroll, where the ink forms a dark figure, towering over kneeling warriors. RINA (CONT’D) He had no name. Or perhaps, he had many. But those who survived his wrath called him the Hollow King. Tenzu’s brows furrow. TENZU Hollow…? Rina exhales, as if saying his name alone is exhausting. RINA He was once a man. A warrior unlike any other. He did not fight for land, nor for gold. He fought simply because he could. Her voice lowers, becoming almost a whisper. RINA (CONT’D) They say he was born beneath an eclipse, when the moon bled into the sun. That on the night of his birth, every firstborn in his village was found dead in their cribs—without a single wound. Tenzu feels something cold settle in his chest. TENZU A curse…? RINA Or a prophecy. She leans back slightly, her gaze distant. RINA (CONT’D) He was different from birth. Unchallenged. Unmatched. They say he did not feel pain, nor mercy. That his heart beat only for battle. The firelight flickers—the shadows shift. RINA (CONT’D) He cut down entire clans before he was even a man. And when there was no one left to fight, he sought something more. Tenzu watches as her fingers tighten slightly against the scroll. TENZU What? Rina swallows, her throat tightening. RINA Power beyond the reach of mortals. The room feels colder now. The warmth of the fire does nothing to push away the sudden chill. RINA (CONT’D) They say he went deep into the Black Coal Mountains, where no man dared tread. That something waited for him there… something that should have remained buried. Tenzu’s grip on his knees tightens. TENZU What did he find? A pause. A hesitation. Then, softly— RINA A deal. The flames crackle sharply, as if protesting the words. RINA (CONT’D) When he returned… he was no longer human. Tenzu stares at her, his breath slow, controlled. RINA (CONT’D) His strength became limitless. Wounds did not touch him. His blade did not dull. And with every warrior he struck down… She hesitates. Tenzu leans forward, his voice barely above a whisper. TENZU What? Rina meets his gaze. And for the first time tonight, he sees something deep in her eyes. Not fear. Not sorrow. Something worse. RINA He took their souls. The candle flickers violently, as if a gust of wind had blown through the room—except the windows remain shut. A weight settles in Tenzu’s chest. RINA (CONT’D) With each death, he grew stronger. With each soul, his form became… twisted. Until one day, he no longer stood as a man, but as something else entirely. Her hand moves over the three monstrous heads drawn on the scroll. RINA (CONT’D) That was the day he became the Three-Headed Viking. The fire dims. The house feels smaller. Tenzu exhales, his fingers trembling slightly. TENZU And no one could stop him? Rina closes her eyes for a brief moment. The weight of those words sinks in. Tenzu doesn’t move. The room remains silent. Only the fire crackles, its embers glowing like dying stars. Tenzu swallows, his fingers pressing into his knees. His voice is barely above a whisper, yet the words feel heavy. TENZU Mother tell me…no one ever defeated him? Rina doesn’t answer immediately. Her gaze drifts to the sword, still wrapped in cloth, resting by the wall. She exhales. Slowly. RINA No one can kill a curse, Tenzu. But… there were those who stood against it. Tenzu watches her closely. The flickering firelight reflects in her eyes, distant and lost in the past. RINA (CONT’D) They were not kings. They were not warriors seeking glory. They were simply… chosen. Tenzu’s breath stills. RINA (CONT’D) Six of them. From different lands. Different paths. Each bearing a power that should have never existed in mortal hands. Her fingers trace the edges of the scroll, revealing six faded symbols etched in gold. The weight of her words hangs in the air, filling the room like an unspoken truth. RINA (CONT’D) They were called the Guardians. The fire crackles again, and for a moment, it almost sounds like distant war drums. RINA (CONT’D) After the Hollow King became the Three-Headed Viking, the world fell into an age of fear. She turns the scroll, revealing images of burning villages, rivers tainted black, and skies choked with smoke. RINA (CONT’D) No city could stand against him. No army could rival him. He moved like a storm, leaving behind only ruins and silence. Tenzu can almost hear it—the screams, the clash of steel, the roaring flames devouring all in their path. His hands curl into fists. TENZU And the gods still did nothing? RINA The gods… are not kind, Tenzu. They do not intervene out of mercy. She leans forward slightly. RINA (CONT’D) But even they feared what he had become. The fire casts long shadows against the walls. RINA (CONT’D) They could not kill him. They could not unmake him. Her fingers move over the six golden symbols once more. RINA (CONT’D) So they did the only thing they could. They chose six mortals. Tenzu furrows his brows. TENZU Chose them… for what? Rina meets his gaze, her voice steady. RINA To wield the lost forces of the world. The air feels heavier now. Rina takes a slow breath, before continuing. RINA (CONT’D) The first was Raiken of the Storm. He could call lightning from the heavens, his blade striking faster than the eye could follow. Her fingers hover over a symbol—a golden dragon, its wings crackling with energy. RINA (CONT’D) The second was Shion of the Tides. He controlled water, shaping rivers into spears, drowning armies with a single gesture. The ink forms the shape of a koi fish, curling through a sea of waves. RINA (CONT’D) The third, Kael, the Phoenix Flame. His fire never died. It burned not just the body, but the very soul of his enemies. A majestic phoenix spreads its wings across the parchment. RINA (CONT’D) The fourth, Tenzho, the Whispering Wind. His movements were faster than thought, his blade unseen—until it was too late. A falcon, soaring high above. RINA (CONT’D) The fifth, Mizaki, the Earth’s Shadow. He could move through the land itself, unshaken, unbreakable. A serpent, coiled in stone. Tenzu listens in silence, absorbing each name, each symbol. But his mother’s voice softens slightly as she reaches the final name. Her hand hesitates just for a moment before she speaks. RINA (CONT’D) And the last… was Hiroshi. Tenzu stills. There is no symbol for this name. The air is too still. TENZU Hiroshi…? Rina closes her eyes for a brief moment, then looks at him. RINA Your father. Tenzu’s breath catches in his throat. For a moment, he doesn’t know what to say. His mother doesn’t look at him. Instead, she continues the story, though her voice is no longer as steady. Rina’s fingers tighten around the edges of the old scroll, her breath steady but heavy. The inked illustrations of warriors and warlords seem almost alive in the flickering light. RINA (softly) The six of them stood against the Three-Headed Viking in the Valley of Ashes. She turns the scroll, revealing a battlefield drawn in dark strokes —bodies scattered like fallen leaves, rivers running black with blood. RINA (CONT’D) It was not a war. It was a massacre. Tenzu’s eyes trace the figures on the parchment. The six warriors stood small against the monstrous shadow of the Viking. His grip tightens. TENZU Then how… how did they stop him? Rina exhales, her gaze distant, lost in memory. RINA They didn’t. A hollow silence fills the room, save for the whisper of wind outside. RINA (CONT’D) The battle against the Three-Headed Viking lasted seven nights. They fought until nothing was left. Their power burned the skies, split the mountains. She grips the scroll tighter, the weight of history pressing on her shoulders. FLASHBACK – THE FINAL BATTLE A blood-red sky looms over the battlefield. The ground trembles under the Viking’s monstrous steps, his three heads roaring in unison. The Guardians stand before him—six warriors, their bodies battered, their souls burning. The Guardian of Flames (Kael) calls forth an inferno, but the Viking walks through it unscathed. The Guardian of Stone (Mizaki) summons an avalanche, but the Viking crushes the boulders beneath his fists. The Guardian of Storms (Raiken) unleashes lightning, striking the warlord’s form—but he only laughs. No weapon could pierce his skin. No flame could burn him. And yet, they fought. The Guardian of wind (Tenzho) vanishes into darkness, striking at unseen angles. The Guardian of Water (Shion) drowns the field in torrents—but the Viking’s power only grows. The land is torn asunder, mountains crumble, the heavens scream. Yet the Viking remains—unstoppable. The Guardians fall, one by one. Until only one remains. Hiroshi. Tenzu’s father. His armor is cracked. His body, broken. But his spirit does not waver. He grips his blade—the very sword that now rests beside Tenzu. His hands move swiftly—forming the Forbidden Four-Hand technique to Seal. A tremor shakes the world. The sky splits apart, the ground rips open. Ancient energy surges through him—energy that no mortal should ever wield. Hiroshi raises his sword—its markings glowing, as if whispering an ancient incantation. With a final cry, he plunges the blade into the earth. A deafening roar fills the sky. The Viking screams. Black smoke erupts around him as the seal forms—a cage of energy binding his soul. "I WILL RETURN… THROUGH BLOOD AND TIME." The ground swallows him whole. The battlefield falls silent. The world is safe. But Hiroshi… never rises again. BACK TO PRESENT – TENZU’S HOME The fire’s glow dances across Rina’s face, her voice barely above a whisper. RINA Your father… gave his life to protect this village. Tenzu’s hands tremble. His mind races, piecing together the truth. His father wasn’t just a warrior. He was a Guardian. A protector. And now… With the Viking’s curse still lingering… Tenzu glances at the sword beside him—the same sword Hiroshi used to seal the Viking away. RINA (CONT’D) The curse of the Viking did not die with him. It lingered—on this land, on our village. She swallows hard, her voice breaking slightly. RINA (CONT’D) But Hiroshi… he never came back. Tenzu stares at her, for the first time realizing the weight she has carried all these years. The fire crackles, its glow flickering against the tears she refuses to let fall. Tenzu feels something tighten in his chest. The sword rests beside them, still wrapped in cloth. Waiting. For a long moment, neither of them speak. The silence stretches, thick and heavy. The only sound is the faint crackling of the fire, casting long shadows across the room. Tenzu struggles to process what he just heard. The weight of it sits in his chest like a stone. He stares at the wrapped sword beside him—his father’s blade. The same blade that once sealed away the Viking. The same blade that now sits before him, waiting. Is this his destiny now? His fingers twitch, but he doesn’t reach for it. Rina watches him carefully. She sees the storm brewing behind his eyes, the way his hands clench and unclench like he’s trying to hold something together that’s already falling apart. Then, she speaks. Her voice is softer now, as if she too is carrying the weight of what she’s about to say. RINA "I never wanted this burden for you." Tenzu exhales sharply. His whole life, he thought his father was just another warrior—now he realizes he was part of something greater. Something terrifying. His mother had kept this from him. For years. His voice, quiet but firm, finally breaks the silence. TENZU "Why tell me the truth after all these years?" Rina closes her eyes for a brief moment, then meets his gaze. There’s something there—something deeper than just sorrow. RINA "Because the time has come." (beat) "Because you need to know the truth… about yourself." Tenzu frowns. A strange chill crawls up his spine. TENZU "The truth about myself?" Rina nods. She reaches for the scroll, unrolling it further. More symbols, more ancient drawings—one in particular catches Tenzu’s eye. A lone figure, standing against the Viking. Unlike the six Guardians, this figure is different. The ink strokes feel… alive. Like lightning crackling across the parchment. TENZU (hesitant, voice low) "Who is that?" Rina looks at him—really looks at him. Her expression unreadable. RINA "The last Guardian. The one destined to end what his father started." Tenzu’s stomach twists. He already knows what she’s about to say. His voice breaks, softer now—like he's waiting for her to deny it. TENZU "...You're not saying that's me, right?" (beat) "No." (shakes his head, voice rising slightly) "No, that—that’s not me." Rina remains calm. RINA "You were born under the same celestial mark as your father. You are the last descendant of the Storm Guardian, Tenzu. The Viking’s seal weakens because his curse has found a new vessel. It’s searching for you." Tenzu pushes himself to his feet abruptly, the wooden floor creaking beneath him. TENZU "I don’t care about celestial marks or destinies. I’m not a Guardian—I’m just me!" His voice echoes through the small room. The fire flickers, as if responding to his outburst. Rina stands too, her tone unwavering. RINA "The Viking is not just returning, Tenzu. He’s returning for you." Tenzu stiffens. His breath catches. TENZU (softly, almost a whisper) "...Why me?" Rina takes a step forward, placing a hand on the scroll. RINA "The Viking doesn’t just want to break free—he wants vengeance." (beat) "Your father was the one who sealed him, but it cost him his life. And now, the Viking’s curse lingers, searching for the last of Hiroshi’s bloodline to finish what was left undone." Tenzu’s jaw tightens. TENZU (shaking his head, stepping back) "Then let someone else fight him! There are warriors stronger than me—why should I have to do this?" Rina exhales, her gaze firm but not unkind. RINA "Because if you don’t, no one else can." The fire crackles louder, almost like it’s protesting. Tenzu swallows hard. His whole body is tense, every muscle coiled like a spring ready to snap. This isn’t fair. He didn’t ask for this. He looks back at the sword—his father’s sword. It’s waiting. Just like his mother said. And deep down, in the part of him he doesn’t want to acknowledge, he knows she’s right. But he’s not ready. Not yet. He turns sharply, pacing. His breath grows erratic. TENZU (voice rising) "I can’t—breathe in here. I need to think. I need—space." He rushes toward the door. RINA (stepping forward, panic in her voice) "No! Tenzu, don’t step outside!" Her sudden shout freezes him for a moment. RINA (more desperate now) "It’s already past the eighth bell. You know what happens out there. The curse—" TENZU (snapping) "I don’t care about the curse!" He throws the door open. The cold night wind rushes in like a wave, pushing back against the warmth of the fire. The entire village is dead silent—not a single lamp flickers beyond their home. The darkness outside looks endless. RINA (pleading) "Tenzu, please... just stay inside. Not tonight. Not now." Her voice cracks. But he doesn't stop. TENZU (without turning around) "I’m not some chosen one. I just want to be me... even if it’s just for a few more minutes." And with that, he steps outside— —into a night where no one else dares to breathe. Rina stands frozen in the doorway, her hand still outstretched, lips trembling. The door slowly creaks shut behind him. EXT. GRIMWOOD OUTSKIRTS – NIGHT The silence outside is heavier than usual. The air carries a faint chill, and even the wind dares not whistle. Tenzu walks slowly, his eyes cast downward, hands curled tightly at his sides. His mother’s voice echoes faintly in his ears… her worry, her pain… and the truth she tried to share. He doesn’t go far—just a few dozen steps down the dirt path, not quite leaving home behind. Ahead, an old lamp post, rusted and leaning, flickers weakly. Below it, a crooked bench half-covered in dry leaves. He sits. Silence. His breath clouds in the air. He doesn’t even notice it. He glances around. The village is sleeping, windows shut, not a single soul outside. No one ever steps out this late. No one. Except him. He looks at his hand, then slowly at his arm. Gently, he pulls his sleeve down. The birthmark, shaped like a worn blade, glows faintly—not visibly, but… felt. He touches it. There’s no pain, just a strange warmth. TENZU (softly, to himself): "...Why now?" The words drift off. He stares ahead blankly. A small sound—barely audible—shuffles nearby. He doesn’t react right away. Then from behind a tree, a white fox steps into the dim light. Its fur shimmers faintly under the moonlight, and its presence feels... ancient, though it moves like a whisper of wind. It pads forward slowly and sits a short distance from Tenzu, facing him with calm, glistening eyes. Tenzu blinks at it. A beat of silence. TENZU: "...You’re not scared to be out here either, huh?" The fox says nothing. Just stares. TENZU (a faint smile): "Looks like it’s just us tonight." He turns his eyes upward, toward the sky. For the first time in his life, he sees the night fully revealed—no roof, no shuttered window, no candles hiding its depth. Stars. Scattered like spilled silver dust across the dark. The moon, pale and watchful. It stuns him for a moment. TENZU (quietly): "...It’s beautiful." He leans back slightly, the cold wood of the bench creaking beneath him. TENZU: "I’ve always heard about how the night sky looks… but never really saw it. Not like this." The fox turns its head slightly, listening. TENZU (smiling faintly): "You know... You’ve probably seen this sky a thousand times. No walls, no fear. Just open fields and stars." He looks down at the fox now. TENZU: "You’re lucky. Free. I used to think... I was like you. Just a regular boy in a quiet village." His voice lowers. TENZU: "But now… a Guardian? A blade that chooses me? A prophecy?" He looks down at his hands again. TENZU (soft, almost breaking): "I’m not him. I’m not who they think I am." The fox simply blinks. TENZU: "I’m seventeen. What do they expect me to do? Fight that monster? The one that wiped out warriors, entire clans..." He trails off. Breathes. Then he glances at the stars again. TENZU (softly): "But this… this sky… it almost makes me forget." A pause. He chuckles to himself, sadly. TENZU: "Maybe I should go back... tell her I’m sorry." He stands, brushing his palms on his pants. The fox stays seated, eyes locked on him. Tenzu turns slowly—starts to take a step toward home. And then— A voice. Far, distant, weak. JIN (O.S.): "...Tenzu..." Tenzu stops mid-step. The night shifts. The wind feels sharper. He turns. Silence. TENZU (tense): "...Jin?" No response. His heartbeat quickens. TENZU: "This... isn’t funny, Jin. You shouldn’t be out here." Another voice—closer now. JIN (O.S.): "...Help... please..." Tenzu glances at the fox—but it’s gone. Vanished. He grabs the nearby lamp from its hook on the post, its flame trembling now. A memory flashes: "No one finds the truth unless they step outside." Tenzu swallows hard. Something isn’t right. But he walks forward anyway. Holding the lamp tight, shadows stretching long before him. He moves into the street, toward the old wooden toy market, voice low but urgent: TENZU: "Jin...? I’m here. Where are you?" No answer. The houses around him are dark. The stalls creak softly in the wind. He steps into the market center. Wooden dolls and animal carvings lie scattered, left behind when the village shut down at dusk. He looks left… then right… spinning slowly. TENZU (quieter): "Was it… just my mind?" He sighs deeply, heart still pounding. Just as he turns to go— A long, low growl pierces the silence. Tenzu freezes. His grip tightens on the lamp. He doesn’t move. From behind the stalls… a shadow shifts. A presence… vast. Heavy. Eyes gleam red through the dark. The lamp flickers again. Tenzu’s breath catches. Out of the shadows— A monstrous roar. CRACK— A massive black-scaled DRAGON with glowing red eyes and a jagged scar across its face bursts into the clearing, its wings tearing through wood and canvas stalls as it lands. Tenzu’s body locks. Frozen. He turns— Too late. SLASH—! The dragon’s claws rake across Tenzu’s back, tearing fabric, drawing blood. He screams—stumbling forward, collapsing to his knees. TENZU (gasping): "Ah—!" He tries to crawl backward, eyes wide, trembling. The dragon towers over him, chest rising like a mountain, eyes burning with ancient wrath. A brutal snarl. The dragon raises a claw again— TENZU rolls to the ground just in time. The claw tears into the dirt, inches from his head. He stays flat, chest pressed to earth, heart hammering. TENZU (panting): "Wh... what is this thing..." The dragon snarls louder now—offended by his defiance. FWOOOSH—! A stream of fire erupts from its mouth, lighting the sky in orange and gold. Tenzu flips to his side and slides away, fire licking past him. But his body collides with a nearby toy stall—wooden animals and soldiers crashing all around. He groans, wind knocked out of him. Eyes blinking, dazed... He spots something through the debris— A wooden katana lying beneath fallen trinkets, its paint chipped, but its shape… perfect. He reaches out slowly, blood dripping down his arm. TENZU (to himself, weakly): "...I have to try…" The dragon rears up, chest glowing, eyes narrowing. FWOOOOOSH! Flames rocket into the sky as the beast turns, spotting Tenzu again. Tenzu grabs the katana, hand trembling, pain nearly blinding him. The dragon charges, full force now, trees shaking with each stomp. Tenzu runs. Dust flies, fire crashes behind him. The heat scorches his back. At the last second, as the dragon dives— Tenzu drops to his knees and slides beneath its belly, skidding across gravel and fire-scorched dirt. His hand grabs the katana fully. He tumbles, coughing, panting. The dragon roars behind him, spinning in fury. Tenzu pulls himself behind an overturned table, clutching the wooden blade. He crouches. Silent. Heart racing. TENZU (whispering to himself): "Why is it after me...? What… what is this thing?" A moment passes. Then—wood creaks. Dust shifts. The dragon is sniffing the air. Hunting. Classic predator silence. Heavy. Menacing. It looks left. Then right. Tenzu peeks. A narrow chance. One gap. He runs—quiet, fast— But— The dragon spots him. BOOM—! It slams a claw into Tenzu’s shoulder, pinning him down. He cries out, barely able to breathe. The katana falls from his hand. He tries to get up. Fails. Tries again. Blood streaks down his arms. Then— He plants the katana into the ground and pushes himself up, trembling. TENZU (whispering): "...Enough..." He looks up at the beast, eyes burning with defiance. TENZU (sharper): "It's enough..." The dragon lunges again—massive, full force. Tenzu swings. The katana misses. The dragon knocks him off balance. Tenzu hits the dirt hard, on one knee, chest heaving. Silence. His head hangs low. The dragon snarls, preparing its final strike. Then— A faint hum. From his back— The CELESTIAL MARK ignites. A soft bluish-white glow surges outward, radiant and sharp. The night shakes. TENZU’S EYES SNAP OPEN—now glowing BLUE. His breath slows. A sudden calm. The dragon charges, sensing the shift—claws out. Tenzu… slowly rises. No fear. He takes a stance—legs wide, katana at the ready, head bowed slightly, as if in silent prayer. The light from his mark intensifies. Energy bursts from him like waves—dust lifting, toys hovering midair. The dragon roars— Tenzu doesn't move. It charges— Then— BOOM—!! Tenzu vanishes. A streak of blue light. He appears mid-air, spinning— THWACK—!! The katana pierces the dragon’s stomach. It howls in agony. The wooden blade cracks—but does not break. Energy pulses from it into the dragon—the unbreakable will of something ancient. The dragon stumbles back, screeching, wounded, breath faltering. Tenzu tries to push the katana deeper—but— The energy overwhelms him. His body trembles. Eyes dimming. He collapses, falling to the earth in a soft thud. Dust settles. The dragon, wounded, bleeding, its fire fading— Turns. It runs. Disappears into the dark forest beyond the market. Tenzu lies still. His eyes closed. Chest faintly rising. The katana beside him. Fully destroyed. Into pieces. CUT-TO INT. GRIMWOOD – TENZU’S HOUSE – NIGHT Rina sits near the hearth, her eyes cast down in worry. The room feels unusually still, the only sound the crackling of the fire. She’s alone. Her fingers trace the edges of an old, worn wooden lamp placed on the table beside her. The lamp's glow flickers, casting eerie shadows across the room. Her heart pounds in her chest. It's been far too long since Tenzu left. The silence grows heavier with each passing moment. Rina (thinking to herself) Did I speak too soon? I should have waited. Her hand moves to the table and pauses for a brief moment. She picks up a small knife, its handle smooth from years of use. She hesitates, then also grabs the old lamp, the one her husband once used. The same one that has lit her way through years of uncertainty. The same one that now feels like a relic of the past. Rina (whispering to herself) I have to do this. I have to bring him back. I can’t wait any longer. She stands, her thoughts torn between fear and the instinctive need to protect her son. She moves towards the door. She stares at the door. Her breath catches. Then— she takes a step forward. One step closer to danger. EXT. GRIMWOOD STREETS – NIGHT The moon is high, casting long shadows. The streets are eerily quiet. Rina walks with quick, uneven steps, her heart pounding. She glances nervously over her shoulder, as if sensing something following her. The air grows colder. More suffocating. She keeps walking, but her pace quickens as she nears the edge of town. A cold gust of wind ruffles her hair. A noise behind her— She turns sharply. Nothing. Rina’s breath quickens. She clutches the knife and the lamp tightly, her eyes darting. She starts walking faster, each step faster than the last. Her fear is palpable. Her grip on the knife tightens. Suddenly— From the shadows of a nearby alley— A tall, haunting figure emerges. Clad in torn black robes, face shrouded in darkness. Only his skeletal hands and legs are visible, white and thin, like a deathly skeleton. In both hands, he grips a C-shaped weapon, its edges gleaming with malice. Rina freezes. Her breath stops for a moment. The figure says nothing. Rina’s legs shake. She backs up slowly, her hand gripping the knife tightly. Her heart pounds in her chest. And then— He’s suddenly behind her. The lamp she carried crashes to the ground. Shatters. Darkness. Rina stumbles backward, her breath short, her hands still clutching the knife. She crawls backward, trying to create space. RINA (shaking) Please... don’t... The figure doesn’t stop. The silence between them is deafening. THE DARK FIGURE (low, echoing) Where is the last guardian? Rina’s heart skips a beat. She stumbles backward, fear gripping her. RINA (breathing fast) I-I don’t know what you’re talking about... But the demon presses on, his movements unnervingly slow, as if savoring her fear. He tilts his head slowly, his skeleton fingers tightening around the C-shaped weapons. THE DARK FIGURE You lie. Your blood reeks of truth. Tell me.. The one who holds the power of the ancients... where is he? Rina remains silent, her mind racing. She knows that if she answers, it could be the end of everything. She can’t say anything. Desperation floods her veins. She draws the knife, her grip shaking. In one swift motion, she rolls to her left, barely avoiding the demon’s lethal strike. EXT. VILLAGE STREETS – NIGHT Rina runs, her heart thundering in her chest. The night air is cold against her skin, the streets deserted, lit only by the pale light of the moon. Her breath is heavy, labored. Her eyes dart from side to side, searching for safety. In the distance, she hears the faint echo of footsteps—but they are not hers. A shadow looms ahead. Rina’s pace falters. Her breath hitches. She’s close to the edge of town, but the dark figure is closing in. She darts into the village streets, adrenaline coursing through her. Her breath comes in quick gasps. In the distance, she can see the demon trailing her, his figure almost a blur in the darkness. But as she rounds the corner- two more creatures—tall and Their bodies are twisted, grotesque, with six legs, faces that stretch too far wide, mouths lined with jagged, too many teeth, glowing inverted cross-shaped pupils that pierce the dark. They hiss, their bodies twitching unnervingly. Rina stabs one with the knife, barely slowing it down. She runs, but— A flash of black. One of the creatures, faster than the rest, lunges at her, its C- shaped weapon striking deep into her back. She gasps. Pain courses through her. Her legs buckle beneath her. Rina cries out in agony but refuses to give up. She fights with everything she has, not for vengeance, but for survival. The dark figure watches. He’s waiting. Silent. Patient. THE DARK FIGURE (low) Tell me... The name. Where is the last guardian? Rina, bloodied and breathless, refuses to speak. Her words barely come out, just a whisper: RINA (weakly) I won’t tell you... anything... But the dark figure doesn’t listen. He slashes again. Her screams are muffled by the sound of the night. Rina’s strength begins to fade as the creatures close in, overwhelming her. She stumbles, falls to her knees, and the knife slips from her hand. The dark figure cold voice echoes as he steps forward. He raises his weapon high, ready to strike again. But just before he does, Rina’s eyes lock onto the moonlit sky, and her thoughts drift to her son. Her memories flood her mind—Tenzu’s laughter, his warmth, the love she fought so hard to protect. Her face softens for a brief moment, tears welling up. She silently prays that he will be safe, that he will fulfill his destiny. The dark figure’s blade descends, cutting through the air with deadly precision She falls to the ground, the fight over. THE DARK FIGURE (softly) You’ve sealed his fate. He raises his weapon. EXT. GRIMWOOD – UNDER THE MOON Rina lies on the ground, motionless. Her eyes wide open, filled with sorrow. The world seems to pause as her life drains away. A flash of memories: Tenzu, laughing in the sunlight. Tenzu’s small hand in hers. The last time she almost told him everything... but didn’t. Tears fall sideways into the dirt. Her lips move. Silent words. The moon above her. A moment frozen in time. Her body lies still, and the dark figure walks past her. Unhindered. Unaffected. He vanishes into the night. INT. TEMPLE – NIGHT Tenzu's eyes flicker open—but only dimly. The world around him is a haze, a blur of shapes and light. He’s not fully conscious. His head feels heavy, the weight of his body almost too much to bear. He can barely see—but there’s someone holding him. A pair of strong arms, tender but urgent. The hands are warm, pulling him into a sitting position. He tries to focus but can’t fully grasp what’s happening. TENZU'S POV: His vision is fractured, like shards of light breaking into his mind. He dimly sees the silhouette of a monk in the soft light, his figure indistinct. A low hum fills the air—a chant, a prayer. The monk’s hands glow faintly, as though healing energy pulses through them, trying to restore him. He feels the pulse of energy around him. The air smells like incense and old stone. There’s a sensation of movement, a gentle shifting as though someone is trying to bring him back from the edge. The temple ceiling looms high above. Its dimly lit shape seems to sway as if in rhythm with the chanting, a symbol of stability he can’t fully grasp. The voices grow clearer. Monks and priests surround him. He can hear their soft chants, but they feel distant, like echoes in a vast cavern. Their hands are placed on his chest, his head, trying to heal him, trying to bring him back. Tenzu's breathing is labored, heavy. The sounds blur together, and he feels his awareness slipping once more. Tenzu (weakly) Where... where am I...? The monk’s face looms above him for a moment, eyes closed in concentration. The light from the temple flickers faintly against his robes. Tenzu’s eyes flutter closed again. The soft chants continue.