I woke up to a pounding in my head, the sound of ringing metal and distant screams still echoing in my ears. My eyes fluttered open, the world spinning slightly as I tried to get my bearings. Daylight had replaced the dark skies from before. It was eerily quiet now, the calm after a storm.

I clumsy get on my feet just like a baby who can stand on feet for the first time. I saw my blade laying next to me and walked steps by steps to it. Each steps feel like a thousands kilos weighin on my back and finally I’ve arrived at my blade after a not very long distant.

I picked up that sword and blinked several times, willing my vision to clear, and when it finally did, the sight before me struck like a hammer to the chest.

I sheathed the sword to the scabbard with my left hand while my right once clenched to my aching heart.

The village was gone—burned and broken. Houses once filled with life were nothing but charred skeletons. I stumbled to my feet, every muscle screaming in pain, but I pushed the discomfort aside. My side still throbbed from where Arthur had struck me, but I ignored it, searching frantically for any sign of life.

“Duke… Laura… Clara…” Their names were on my lips, a breathless whisper as I staggered through the rubble. My heart pounded in my chest, not from exertion but from pure, unbridled panic. My family—where were they?

Bodies littered the ground, men who had fought bravely to defend their homes, were now still and lifeless. Some of them I recognized, men I’d known for years—my neighbors, my friends. I found myself stepping over the remains of those I’d shared drinks with, laughed with… now reduced to mere corpses.

But not my family. Please not them.

I could feel my breath quicken, my chest tightening as the weight of the destruction pressed down on me. The more I walked, the more I saw—broken windows, collapsed rooftops, the smell of ash thick in the air. I passed several survivors, their bodies battered and broken, but they wouldn’t look at me. Some were too far gone, too lost in their own pain and shock.

I stumbled, my knees buckling as the overwhelming sense of hopelessness settled over me. I fell to the ground, hands trembling as they gripped the dirt beneath me. I had been through battles before, and seen my share of blood and death, but nothing—nothing—could prepare me for this. I had failed. My family… where were they? They couldn’t be among the dead, they couldn’t—

A hand rested on my shoulder, firm but gentle.

“Michael,” a voice cut through the haze, grounding me.

I turned, my muscles screaming in protest, to see Garrett Varnis limping toward me. His face was smeared with soot, his clothes torn and bloodied. His left arm hung awkwardly, wrapped in a makeshift bandage that was already soaked through. Despite it all, his eyes softened when they met mine.

“You’re alive,” he said, his voice thick with relief. He knelt beside me, his hand gripping my shoulder. “Thank the gods. We thought you were lost.”

I stared at him, the chaos in my mind dulling for a moment. “Garrett…” My voice cracked. Then the panic surged back, sharp and unrelenting. “My family, Garrett,” I rasped, grabbing his arm as if he could pull me from this nightmare. “Laura, Duke, Clara—I can’t find them.”

Garrett’s face darkened, his jaw tightening. He looked past me at the devastation, his eyes scanning the ruins of our village. When he turned back, there was something heavy in his gaze—a sorrow I didn’t want to face. “I saw some survivors being dragged away,” he said, his voice low. “The raiders didn’t kill everyone. They took some with them. Your family... they might be among them.”

The words hit me like a hammer. “Taken?” I whispered, my throat closing up. My mind conjured images of Laura, Duke, and little Clara—bound, frightened, at the mercy of monsters. It was unbearable. My knees buckled, and I stumbled forward. Garrett caught me, steadying me before I hit the ground.

“You’re in no shape to move,” he said, his tone firm but laced with worry.

Around us, the sounds of grief and despair swirled like a storm. A woman knelt near a toppled beam, clutching a small, lifeless body in her arms—a boy no older than five. Her wails tore through the air, a sound of pure, unfiltered agony. Children huddled together in corners, their tear-streaked faces frozen in fear as they clung to each other. One little girl, no older than Clara, sat alone by a broken cart, calling for her mother in a voice that was hoarse and faint. She had no idea her mother lay lifeless just a few feet away.

I turned away, bile rising in my throat, and that’s when I saw him—Rylan, a young man of nineteen, sitting in the middle of the road. He was cradling a lifeless body in his arms, rocking back and forth as tears streamed down his face. It was Layla, his wife.

Just a week ago, we had all celebrated their wedding. That day, all villagers gathered at the couple humble house but filled with love and warmth, we sang songs played music, performed tricks and blessed the young couples.

And only yesterday, Rylan had told me she was expecting their first child.

But everything changed abruptly after 1 night. Now, she was gone, and with her, the future he had been so excited for.

The sight broke something in me. My vision blurred as tears I didn’t even know I was holding back began to fall. I wanted to scream, to curse the heavens for allowing this to happen. But I couldn’t. I had to stay strong. For them. For my family.

“Michael,” Garrett said softly, his voice pulling me back. “Eat something. You’re no good to anyone like this.”

I looked down to see him holding out a small piece of bread, no larger than my palm. “It’s all we have,” he said. “Enough for a day if we’re careful.”

I hesitated, the lump in my throat nearly choking me. This bread was all they had, and yet he was giving it to me. My chest tightened with guilt, but I knew I couldn’t refuse. With trembling hands, I accepted it, my voice barely a whisper. “Thank you.”

Garrett’s hand lingered on my shoulder, grounding me once again. “Michael,” he said, his tone serious, “you’re not going after them now, are you?”

I glanced around at the broken village—the grieving families, the terrified children, the hollow stares of those who had survived but lost everything. I couldn’t leave them like this. Not while they were still vulnerable.

“No,” I said, my voice firm despite the ache in my chest. “The village comes first. I’ll help rebuild, find food, and make sure everyone is safe. Once things are stable, I’ll go after my family.”

Garrett studied me for a long moment before nodding. “We’ll get through this,” he said quietly. “Together.”

As I looked around at the shattered remnants of my home, I clenched my fists. I didn’t know how I was going to do it, but I had to. For Laura. For Duke. For Clara. For all of us.

A week passed as I am on my way to help rebuilding the village. I have arrived nearby Sillea Kingdom.

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I took out from my bag over my shoulder a piece of bread and tore each piece apart and put in my mouth. I adjusted my horse and my sword at my back and ride it forward to the kingdom.

It was a place I’d only heard of in passing, known for its strong economy and well-guarded borders. But as I approached, I wasn’t interested in its wealth or reputation—I needed answers.

The kingdom’s walls loomed ahead, massive stone fortifications that stretched high into the sky. Banners of the Sillea crest, a golden wheat stalk intertwined with a silver sword, flapped in the wind above the gate. The guards at the entrance eyed me cautiously as I approached, their armor gleaming under the sun. I showed them the letter I carried from the village council, explaining the situation and asking for an audience with the king.

They let me pass, though their faces betrayed little concern.

Inside, the streets bustled with life. Merchants called out their goods, children ran between the stalls, and the smell of baked bread mixed with the scent of freshly laid cobblestones. It felt wrong to be here, amidst such life and vibrancy, when all I could think about was the smoldering ruin of my village.

But I had no time for the city’s life. I made my way toward the king’s castle, a grand fortress built from white stone, towering over the rest of the kingdom. The castle’s towers pierced the sky, and its walls gleamed under the light. It was an imposing sight, beautiful yet cold.

Inside, the halls were lavish, decorated with tapestries and chandeliers that dripped with wealth. But the warmth of the surroundings did nothing to ease the tension in my chest. When I finally stood before the king, seated on his golden throne, I laid out my case and explained the horrors my village had faced, the lives lost, and the lives stolen.

The grandeur of the Sillea throne room did nothing to quell the storm brewing inside me. Ornate tapestries lined the walls, and chandeliers cast a warm glow across the polished marble floor. Despite the beauty of the hall, there was a coldness in the air that mirrored the king’s demeanor. His crown glinted as he sat atop his throne, fingers tapping the armrest with a rhythm that grated on my nerves.

I bowed respectfully before speaking, forcing my voice to remain steady. “Your Majesty, I come before you not only as a loyal subject but as a father and husband. My village, Redmount, has been ravaged by a raid. My family has been taken, and countless others are either dead or missing. I beg you to offer more substantial aid—this is not just an ordinary raid. I fear they’ve been taken by those who mean them great harm. We need more than just men to rebuild; we need soldiers, resources, anything you can spare to help us find those who were taken and bring them home.”

The king’s eyes flicked up from his fingers, but the disinterest was unmistakable. He let out a small sigh as if my words were an inconvenience to his day. “Michael Caddel, is it? I am aware of the raid on Redmount. It is unfortunate, but my kingdom’s resources are limited. We are already spread thin, dealing with matters of greater consequence.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep my frustration from showing. “Your Majesty,” I continued, keeping my tone measured, “I understand the pressures of ruling a kingdom, but the people of Redmount are your subjects. They rely on your protection. I don’t ask lightly, but if we don’t act swiftly, those taken may never return. I cannot do this alone.”

The king’s hand rose, stopping me mid-sentence. “I will send some men to assist in rebuilding the village,” he said, his voice calm but indifferent. “Perhaps a small group of soldiers to help with the search, but I cannot spare more. My army is already stretched to its limit.”

I bowed my head, forcing myself to remain composed despite the sting of his dismissive tone. “Your Majesty, a few soldiers may help with reconstruction, but I fear it won’t be enough to recover those taken by such skilled raiders. I humbly request that you consider increasing the number of men or even sending an experienced search party.”

The king’s eyes narrowed slightly, his posture straightening as he fixed me with a cold, piercing gaze. When he spoke, his voice dropped to a formal but curt tone, laced with thinly veiled irritation. “You forget your place, Caddel. You stand in the presence of your king. I have given my word that assistance will be sent, and that should be enough. My decisions are not up for negotiation.”

The words were like a slap to the face, but what came next hit even harder.

“You are the son of a noble family from Myttas, are you not?” the king continued, his voice taking on a sharper edge. “A kingdom that, lest we forget, is third in power—behind not only Sillea but also Midas. It was by choice that you left your birthright, your family, and your homeland to live here in Sillea, under my rule. I could have denied you entry or turned you away, but instead, I offered you shelter, food, and a better life than what you would have had as just another noble son in Myttas.”

His words dripped with condescension, and I clenched my fists, fighting the surge of anger threatening to overwhelm me. It was true I had left Myttas, seeking freedom and a future of my own making. But his implication that I owed him for every breath I took under Sillea’s sky was unbearable.

“I granted you this life,” he continued, gesturing dismissively. “And now you ask me to stretch my resources even further for a personal matter? Be grateful for the help I have already promised, Michael Caddel, and do not overstep your bounds.”

The room fell silent, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a physical force. I lowered my head, my jaw tightening as I swallowed back my pride. I wanted to argue, to point out that this was more than just a personal matter. That my village, my family, deserved more than half-hearted gestures. But I couldn’t. Not here, not now.

I straightened, knowing that further pressing would only worsen the situation. “Of course, Your Majesty. I am grateful for any aid you can provide.”

He waved a hand dismissively, signaling that our conversation was over. “My men will arrive within the week. Until then, return to your village and see to it that you begin the necessary repairs. I expect the rebuilding to go smoothly.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I said, bowing low before turning on my heel to leave. As I walked out of the throne room, I felt the weight of disappointment settle heavily on my shoulders. A few soldiers would be sent, but that was it. No real reinforcement, no promise of a dedicated search. To the king, Redmount was just a small outpost on the edge of his realm—barely worth a second thought.

I stepped out of the castle, the grandeur behind me fading into the reality of my situation. I would have to find another way to save my family.

That night, I found myself sitting in a small inn, a meager fire crackling in the hearth. The king’s words weighed heavily on my mind, but I knew one thing for certain—I couldn’t rely on him. If I wanted to find my family, I’d need more than just a few soldiers.

I pulled out a piece of parchment and dipped my quill in ink, writing letters to the only people I knew I could count on—my old friends from my adventuring days.

We’d gone our separate ways years ago, ever since I married Laura, but if there was anyone who could help me now, it was them.

I took a deep breath as I stared at the letter in my hands, the weight of every word heavy on my heart. Writing it wasn’t easy—how could it be, after all these years of silence? But there was no other choice. I had to swallow my pride. My family needed them.

I dipped the quill into the ink and began:

----------------------------------------

Lorin Reias

I write to you now not as the man who walked away, but as a broken father and husband. My village has been raided. My wife, Laura, and my children—Clara and Duke—have been kidnapped. The king of Sillea has offered some aid, but it won’t be enough. Time is slipping away, and I cannot do this alone.

I know I have no right to ask for your help after all these years. I am ashamed of how I left things—how I fractured the team that was once as close as family. You deserved better than the silence I left in my wake. But right now, none of that matters. What matters is that my family is out there, and they need me to bring them home. I can’t do that without you.

You were always the one with the clearest head, Lorin. When I faltered as leader, you were the one who kept us grounded. If anyone can pull us together again, it’s you. Please, gather the others—Darven, Cyris, Kaira, and Alina. We fought side by side, through battles that would have broken lesser teams. I can only hope enough of that bond remains for me to ask you to fight with me once more.

I know what I am asking is no small thing. When I left the team, it wasn’t just for Laura—it was for a life I thought I needed, a future I thought would make me whole. Laura’s party met us because of our work. The bond we forged in those years together was undeniable, and I made my choice to marry her, even knowing it would mean stepping away from everything we had built. At the time, it felt right. I believed you all would go on stronger without me. But looking back now, I see the hurt I caused by leaving so abruptly, and I carry that regret with me every day.

I don’t know where life has taken you all, or if you even speak to one another anymore. But I do know the strength we had as a team—The Eclipse Tyrants. That strength, that trust, it’s what helped us survive and thrive against impossible odds. And it’s that strength I’m begging for now.

I’ll be waiting Redmount village. If there’s even a shred of that camaraderie left, even a fragment of the bond we once shared, please consider this letter. I don’t just need warriors; I need my friends, my family in arms, to stand with me one last time.

For my family, for the sake of the man I once was, and for the hope that The Eclipse Tyrants can rise again—I beg you to answer this call.

Michael Hevas Caddel