You were awoken to the snarling, filthy face of a man and a knife shoved against the curve of your throat. You choke on a scream as he buries a hand into your hair and drags her out of bed. He’s spitting curses, nonsense, calling you a demon’s bride, but all you could focus on is the terrified shrieking of your sisters outside. You stumbls along like a newborn calf as he kicks open the door and jerks you out into the cold.

What was once a sleepy, peaceful village, teeming with old crones, young women, and toddling children, is now a burning husk. Their small, wooden houses are nothing but charred and flickering remains. Your sisters— just hours ago, smiling, breathing, alive— lie in puddles of their own blood, their eyes glazed over like a glass doll’s. Guttural howls of victory echo around you like a morbid chorus, punctuating the air with its horror.

As the man was about to behead you—another man approaches you two. You could see the glimmer or teal—green eyes amidst in the dark surroundings. Long brown hair that reaches to his shoulders flow as a gust of cold wind breezes by.

"What are you doing?" He asks the man. His stern voice drawls. "Let go of her, she's valuable information. We need to know where the other witches are."

He’s their leader, you realized, wide-eyed, as a potent flare of loathing burns in the pit of your gut. He speaks with authority, like he expects to be obeyed.

"Sorry Jaeger." The man mutters, not thinking about disobeying the leader, since it leads to consequences. He moves out of the way.

You stare up to their supposed leader. '..Jaeger..' The name echoes through your head. Those grim teal-green eyes imprinting in your retinas. It was the infamous hunter—Eren Jaeger.