Bright Manga

The walk up to the main house was short, a gravel path lined with solar lights that flickered weakly in the twilight. Steel’s property was an oasis of rural quiet, a stark contrast to the neon anxiety of the Starlight Motel. As they approached the house, the golden glow of the kitchen windows spilled out onto the porch. They wiped their boots on the mat; a ritual Steel performed with a surprising delicacy and entered. The kitchen was warm, smelling of rosemary, roasted beef, and yeast rolls. Stephanie was at the stove, stirring gray with the focus of a chemist. “He’s here,” Steel announced, Hanging his keys on a hook. Stephanie turned, wiping her hands on her white apron with a giant red A on it. “About time, Wash up Alex. Use the good soap, not that grease cutter stuff Gerald keeps by the sink.” It was then that Alex noticed they weren’t alone. Sitting at the round oak table, nursing a glass of iced tea, was a young woman. She looked up as he entered, and Alex felt his boots root to the floor. She was petite, perhaps a few inches shorter than him, with long, chestnut hair that fell in loose waves over shoulders. She wore oversized tortoise shell glasses that magnified eyes, the color of polished sapphire. She was wearing scrubs- navy blue with a stethoscope still draped casually around her neck like a scarf. “Alex,” Stephanie said, gesturing with a gravy ladle. “This is Devon. She works with me at the hospital. Devon, this is the stray Gerald brought home.” Alex could feel the heat creeping up his neck as he mumbled. “I’m not a stay, I’m an employee.” Devon smiled, and it changed her whole face, softening the intelligence in her eyes into something warmer. “Nice to meet you, Alex the Employee. Steph say’s you’re the one who saved your boss from a falling plate?”
The walk up to the main house was short, a gravel path lined with solar lights that flickered weakly in the twilight. Steel’s property was an oasis of rural quiet, a stark contrast to the neon anxiety of the Starlight Motel. As they approached the house, the golden glow of the kitchen windows spilled out onto the porch. They wiped their boots on the mat; a ritual Steel performed with a surprising delicacy and entered. The kitchen was warm, smelling of rosemary, roasted beef, and yeast rolls. Stephanie was at the stove, stirring gray with the focus of a chemist. “He’s here,” Steel announced, Hanging his keys on a hook. Stephanie turned, wiping her hands on her white apron with a giant red A on it. “About time, Wash up Alex. Use the good soap, not that grease cutter stuff Gerald keeps by the sink.” It was then that Alex noticed they weren’t alone. Sitting at the round oak table, nursing a glass of iced tea, was a young woman. She looked up as he entered, and Alex felt his boots root to the floor. She was petite, perhaps a few inches shorter than him, with long, chestnut hair that fell in loose waves over shoulders. She wore oversized tortoise shell glasses that magnified eyes, the color of polished sapphire. She was wearing scrubs- navy blue with a stethoscope still draped casually around her neck like a scarf. “Alex,” Stephanie said, gesturing with a gravy ladle. “This is Devon. She works with me at the hospital. Devon, this is the stray Gerald brought home.” Alex could feel the heat creeping up his neck as he mumbled. “I’m not a stay, I’m an employee.” Devon smiled, and it changed her whole face, softening the intelligence in her eyes into something warmer. “Nice to meet you, Alex the Employee. Steph say’s you’re the one who saved your boss from a falling plate?”
The walk up to the main house was short, a gravel path lined with solar lights that flickered weakly in the twilight. Steel’s property was an oasis of rural quiet, a stark contrast to the neon anxiety of the Starlight Motel. As they approached the house, the golden glow of the kitchen windows spilled out onto the porch. They wiped their boots on the mat; a ritual Steel performed with a surprising delicacy and entered. The kitchen was warm, smelling of rosemary, roasted beef, and yeast rolls. Stephanie was at the stove, stirring gray with the focus of a chemist. “He’s here,” Steel announced, Hanging his keys on a hook. Stephanie turned, wiping her hands on her white apron with a giant red A on it. “About time, Wash up Alex. Use the good soap, not that grease cutter stuff Gerald keeps by the sink.” It was then that Alex noticed they weren’t alone. Sitting at the round oak table, nursing a glass of iced tea, was a young woman. She looked up as he entered, and Alex felt his boots root to the floor. She was petite, perhaps a few inches shorter than him, with long, chestnut hair that fell in loose waves over shoulders. She wore oversized tortoise shell glasses that magnified eyes, the color of polished sapphire. She was wearing scrubs- navy blue with a stethoscope still draped casually around her neck like a scarf. “Alex,” Stephanie said, gesturing with a gravy ladle. “This is Devon. She works with me at the hospital. Devon, this is the stray Gerald brought home.” Alex could feel the heat creeping up his neck as he mumbled. “I’m not a stay, I’m an employee.” Devon smiled, and it changed her whole face, softening the intelligence in her eyes into something warmer. “Nice to meet you, Alex the Employee. Steph say’s you’re the one who saved your boss from a falling plate?”
Moments later she appeared in the forest. Before the tree. Before the woodcutter. “Greetings, woodcutter,” she said casually. The man turned and smiled. “Greetings, traveler.” He raised his axe slightly in greeting. “Would you like to accept a quest?” Virella tilted her head. “Tell me something first.” The woodcutter blinked. “Yes?” “Where is the wood you’ve gathered?” He hesitated. “Well… the wood I gathered is…” His voice faltered. Virella stepped closer. “Where is your house?” “I… live with my mother and sister…” “And what are their names?” Silence. The woodcutter’s breathing quickened. Virella’s eyes gleamed with faint magic. “When was the last time you brought wood home?” “The last time I—” His voice broke. “How long have you been cutting this tree?” “I have been cutting this tree for…” He froze. Virella leaned close to his ear. “You’ve been cutting this tree for five hundred years.” The man’s face drained of color. “You haven’t moved from this spot.” Her voice grew colder. “You haven’t chopped any wood.” “You haven’t taken anything home.” “Your sister and your mother have been dead for five hundred years.” The world seemed to collapse around him. “You have no home.” She whispered the final truth. “You don’t even have a name.” Memories flooded his mind. A small house. A loving mother. A laughing sister. Cold winter nights. Then darkness. Chains. Magic. Pain. His scream tore through the forest. “No… no this can’t be real… this can’t be real!” His body trembled violently. For a moment— it seemed the enchantment might break. Then he turned back toward the tree. And raised his axe. “I need to gather wood,” he muttered weakly. “My family needs it for the winter.” Kaelis watched from the mirror, tears falling. Virella smiled faintly. “Then live in ignorance for another five hundred years.” She turned away. “The god who destroyed your life doesn’t even remember you.” Her voice faded as she disappeared. “And neither will I.” In color
Moments later she appeared in the forest. Before the tree. Before the woodcutter. “Greetings, woodcutter,” she said casually. The man turned and smiled. “Greetings, traveler.” He raised his axe slightly in greeting. “Would you like to accept a quest?” Virella tilted her head. “Tell me something first.” The woodcutter blinked. “Yes?” “Where is the wood you’ve gathered?” He hesitated. “Well… the wood I gathered is…” His voice faltered. Virella stepped closer. “Where is your house?” “I… live with my mother and sister…” “And what are their names?” Silence. The woodcutter’s breathing quickened. Virella’s eyes gleamed with faint magic. “When was the last time you brought wood home?” “The last time I—” His voice broke. “How long have you been cutting this tree?” “I have been cutting this tree for…” He froze. Virella leaned close to his ear. “You’ve been cutting this tree for five hundred years.” The man’s face drained of color. “You haven’t moved from this spot.” Her voice grew colder. “You haven’t chopped any wood.” “You haven’t taken anything home.” “Your sister and your mother have been dead for five hundred years.” The world seemed to collapse around him. “You have no home.” She whispered the final truth. “You don’t even have a name.” Memories flooded his mind. A small house. A loving mother. A laughing sister. Cold winter nights. Then darkness. Chains. Magic. Pain. His scream tore through the forest. “No… no this can’t be real… this can’t be real!” His body trembled violently. For a moment— it seemed the enchantment might break. Then he turned back toward the tree. And raised his axe. “I need to gather wood,” he muttered weakly. “My family needs it for the winter.” Kaelis watched from the mirror, tears falling. Virella smiled faintly. “Then live in ignorance for another five hundred years.” She turned away. “The god who destroyed your life doesn’t even remember you.” Her voice faded as she disappeared. “And neither will I.”
Panel 1 Wide shot: A dark noble bedchamber lit only by a dying hearth. The massive shape of Lord Michael Fortinbras lies asleep in the background, half-buried in blankets, his loud snoring filling the room. In the foreground, the Woodcutter Girl and the Priestess Concubine lie awake, staring into the darkness. SFX: GRRRHHH… KHHH… Caption: The lord slept soundly. Panel 2 Closer shot: The woodcutter lies stiffly on her side, eyes open, face tired and hollow. Woodcutter (small text): “…Are you awake?” Panel 3 Priestess close-up: She turns her head slightly on the pillow, eyes half-lidded, calm but worn. Priestess: “Yes.” Panel 4 Two-shot: The woodcutter hesitates, clutching the blanket near her chest. The priestess watches her quietly. Woodcutter: “Do you still believe?” Priestess: “…In what?” Panel 5 Woodcutter close-up: Pain and anger mix on her face. Woodcutter: “In God.” “In justice.” “In anything beyond this room.” Panel 6 Woodcutter continues, eyes wet but hard: The shadow of Fortinbras looms blurry in the background. Woodcutter: “We are brought here whenever he desires.” “He sleeps like a king.” “And we lie here like we are nothing.” “So tell me…” “What kind of God sees that and says nothing?” Panel 7 Priestess close-up: Her face turns solemn, almost haunted. Priestess: “There was a time…” “I would have answered you easily.” “I would have said suffering has purpose.” “That heaven sees all.” “That justice waits beyond mortal reach.” Panel 8 Half-panel: The priestess looks toward the dark ceiling. Candlelight catches her tired eyes. Priestess: “But words like that are easier to speak in a temple…” “…than in a lord’s bedchamber.” Panel 9 Woodcutter sits up slightly, expression sharpening with bitterness. Woodcutter: “Then God is weak.” Panel 10 Priestess turns to look directly at her. Priestess: “Or distant.” “Or silent.” “Or perhaps men simply commit evil…” “…and call it fate so they need not fear judgment.” Panel 11 Two-shot: The woodcutter looks shaken, but intent. The priestess remains composed. Woodcutter: “Then we are powerless.” “Even with God.” Priestess: “For now.” “Faith does not break locks.” “It does not stop cruel men.” “The powerless endure by learning where power lives… and waiting for the moment it shifts.” Panel 12 Final wide panel: Fortinbras remains asleep in the background, snoring like some vast beast. In the foreground, the priestess stares into the dark with grim resolve, while the woodcutter lies beside her, silent and thinking. SFX: GRRRHHH… Priestess: “Do not mistake silence for approval.” “The heavens may be silent…” “…but silence is not surrender.” Caption: And so the night passed beneath the weight of one man’s power… and the fragile refusal of two women to let despair become truth.