Three cleanly severed heads rolled across the ground. Slowly, Lyren began to realize the gravity of the situation. They were dead. All three of them. The bearded man had struck them down.

"No!" he screamed, grabbing his swords, flames licking around his body. The intensity of his rage burned even brighter. "I’ll kill you all."

No one paid him any attention. He would make them pay. He would burn them all. The mark on his palm began to flare with more intensity.

"Burn, burn..."

A cool hand rested on his shoulder. "Calm down. Now is not the time. Wait a little longer. We can visit the bearded man later, and then you can kill him. Just not now. Think of your mother."

He wanted to shake him off, to yell at him. But the thought of his mother stopped him in his tracks. He had to save her. He couldn’t afford to be reckless right now.

His rage slowly gave way to reason. "You’re right," he gritted through clenched teeth.

"Come back into the house and calm down." Azrael cast a brief glance at his burned palm. "Hot."

The square was emptying quickly. The entire crowd was heading toward the forest, not sparing them another thought.

The heavy door closed behind them with a creak. The blacksmith stood in the background, looking almost as if he wanted to run with the others. His gaze showed no compassion for Lyren.

Azrael turned his gaze away from him. "Lyren, sit down for now."

"I’d rather stay standing."

The hatred practically boiled in his voice. He thought back to them. They had insisted on seeing him. They hadn't seen each other since Leonie's birth.

He had told them not to come. The problem was his mother. She told them to come if they wanted to.

He thought back to one of the faces in the crowd. Black hair, blue eyes, it was definitely his mother. She was one of them. She stood next to the condemned. Who knows, she might have even joined in the cries. Asking for the deaths of Leonie, Anka, and Klaus. Cursing them.

"Lyren, Lyren, I'm talking to you."

He looked up and saw his friend. "What is it?"

"Do you want to follow them? You have to fulfill your order anyway. That could be an option."

"Yes, I want to kill them!" He had avoided killing the villagers until now. After all, they hadn't always been like this. But now… he couldn't control himself anymore. He had to kill them.

"But please follow my instructions, we're not taking any unnecessary risks."

"Okay."

They shouldered their weapons. Over this, they donned sturdy leather clothing. They had received it from Bartho. Azrael carried Antaroth and a self-made bow. He still couldn’t draw Inrath, his powerful bow, so he had looked into a book on bow-making.

Through a meticulous process, he had crafted a yew bow. A matching quiver with arrows sat firmly on his back. He had stored twenty arrows in it.

They silently left the house. On the way toward the forest, Azrael threw his friend a long glance. He understood. He understood perfectly. Lyren could hardly hold himself together. His gaze kept losing its sharpness. Pain and despair lay deep in his eyes.

"I would love to say something. Cheer him up. Calm him down. But in this situation, there's nothing I can do. No words can ease his pain. A direction for his rage is essential. After all, it helps a little to destroy the people you hate."

He thought back to his own past. "I fear my revenge will give me no satisfaction. Still, they will suffer. It's their destined fate. They must fall by my hand."

His eyes were focused straight ahead, his mind stable and unwavering.

Some voices piqued his interest. To the right, there seemed to be a commotion. "Strange, I thought everyone was in the forest. Let's take a quick look."

Lyren nodded silently.

They followed the path. At the end of the way, they sharply turned left. A large crowd stretched out in front of them. Azrael recognized some of the faces.

"Without a doubt, it’s them. But what are they doing here? I thought they’d be scouring the forest right now."

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

An old man approached the two boys, leaning heavily on a gnarled staff. His long beard and spectacles gave him an air of wisdom.

"Azrael and Lyren, correct?"

Azrael stepped forward, intending to take the lead in the conversation. Who knew what Lyren might do in his current state? "That’s correct, sir."

"Very well, very well. You are hereby detained. From now on, you are forbidden to leave the forge. Any violation will be punished by death."

"May I at least know your name first?"

"You may call me Father Uranon."

"Could I ask the reason for our detainment?"

"Quite bold, aren’t you? Tell me, do you truly believe, with all your heart, in the path of light, Solaren?"

“Damn it, what should I say? Lie? No. Consider the shift in their behavior—they’re against me again. It doesn’t matter what I say, but maybe I can salvage something with the right phrasing.”

He bowed deeply. “I’m very sorry. My sun is obscured by dark clouds. But clouds always pass eventually.”

“And? Killing someone accidentally is still murder, isn’t it? The same applies to heresy. Get out of my sight. Immediately.”

“Understood. We’ll leave. Lyren, come on.”

No reaction. Lyren’s gaze was locked onto a single point in the crowd—a black-haired woman. She paid him no attention.

“Lyren,” Azrael said, shaking him. “Snap out of it. We don’t have time for this. We need to go.”

Lyren hesitated, then slowly turned away and followed Azrael.

“I’m sorry, Lyren. All we can do now is wait. There’s nothing else we can do. Let’s focus on preparing for August 8th.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t do anything stupid.”

“We need to think about how you can fulfill your task now. If we’re not allowed to leave the house, it’s going to be difficult. Either we break that rule, or we wait until my birthday. But if we wait that long, we have to act. After all, that’s when the deadline ends.”

“I don’t care about that right now. Can we talk about this some other time?”

“Yes, we can.”

Silence settled over them after that. Lyren walked alongside Azrael, lost in thought.

“Watch out,” Azrael warned for the third time. Lyren was so distracted that he was about to walk straight into a wall.

After a few more minutes, the forge came into view. A large crowd had gathered around it, forming a circle that seemed to block all exits.

“Looks like we really can’t escape,” Azrael muttered. His friend didn’t respond. Lyren seemed completely oblivious to the crowd, trudging along beside him, lost in his own world.

The people formed a gap. Without any incidents, they made their way into the heart of the forge. Bartho was working as always. He paid no attention to the commotion. Perhaps he didn’t even notice it. What was unsettling, however, was the silence. Despite the large crowd, there were no conversations. They all stared expressionlessly toward the forge.

Lyren immediately went to his room. The clicking of the door confirmed his intention to be left alone. Azrael decided to visit the house’s library. It had become his favorite room in the house.

"What shall I read today?" He wandered uncertainly through the shelves. A dusty scroll with no title caught his curiosity. Skillfully, he pulled it from the shelf. A cloud of dust accompanied the action.

"World Map," he read the title, intrigued. "This is interesting. It's possible we may need to flee. It would be helpful if I knew at least a bit about the world."

He grabbed the map and spread it out on the table. It covered the entire surface. The directions were noted on the edges—North, South, West, East.

A small sentence beneath the title caught his attention. "The world is flat. Anyone who believes otherwise today is a backward conspiracy theorist."

"I wonder what would happen if someone falls off this flat world. Where would they land?" he mused, as if he wanted to find out.

The world itself appeared to be circular. The edge was surrounded by water. "World Sea," he read, fascinated. Below, there was a small written explanation. "The closer one gets to the edge, the higher the density of corruption."

A river stretched straight through the middle of the world. The river appeared very wide. "Eternal Stream," was written beneath it.

The map itself was divided into different climate zones. His attention shifted to the area where he was located. Lindell lay at the foothills of the Manos Mountains in Tanerien. To the right was the border of Tanerien. Lindell wasn’t far from it. He carefully memorized the exact location, paying attention to borders, cities, and rivers. The vast Fagorn Forest nearly filled two entire kingdoms. It was mostly a coniferous forest. To the north, it grew denser, hillier, and more impassable.

6 August

Lyren still hadn’t recovered from his loss. He spent most of the day in his room. The sound of metal on metal made the question of what Bartho was doing unnecessary. He was working as always—a steadfast rock in the currents of madness. But how long would that rock hold?

Azrael passed his time reading, exercising, and observing. The people still stood in front of his window. It seemed there was some sort of shift system.

Azrael caught himself several times wishing they would all freeze to death. Unfortunately, they didn’t do him that favor.

7 August, 10:45 AM

As he flipped through a book titled "Monsters" and pondered beasts and horrors, something changed outside his window. For the first time in days, the people turned their gaze away from his window. The entire town seemed to converge in front of it.

After a few minutes, he noticed a strange order. A woman and a man stood facing each other. They locked eyes, unmoving and indifferent, like empty dolls.

11:25 AM

There were no new changes. The only thing that caught his eye was Bard and Madame Lorena. They too were facing each other, staring.

Azrael left his observation post and went to his friend’s room. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I think it’s about to start.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right there.”

11:55 AM

Lyren sat motionless on his bed, his gaze expressionless as it fixed on the wall. “What should I have done? Should I have intervened? Could I have changed anything? Would they have survived? Could I have...?”

Questions upon questions raced through his mind. He already knew the answers. He knew he couldn’t have changed anything.

“Whenever the question is 'could have...', nothing productive ever comes out of it,” Azrael had once told him.

“Skrr Skrrr.”

A strange sound pulled him from his thoughts. “Has Azrael come back?” he sighed, resigned. Of course, he only wanted what was best for him. And with his birthday approaching, something big had to happen soon.

“Skrr Skrrr.”

The sound came again, but this time it was close. Too close. Right beside him. A sense of foreboding crept over him. He jumped to his feet. His gaze swept the room, but found nothing. Nowhere.