I stared down at his face. It once was so full of life, and now it lay there on the ground, lifeless. He seemed fairly young, no older than twenty, but would anyone even be able to guess his age? His helmet was broken, now covering only his forehead, and the rest of his face was battered beyond recognition.
I pulled my sword out of the young man’s chest and swung it around a few times to throw his blood away before placing it back in its sheath by my side.
“You should be thankful. You will meet the Gods you so clearly love.” I said, my voice a whisper in the wind. “All your life you prayed to them, and they did not even try to save you.”
I could feel the disgust in my eyes and I looked around me.
Corpses.
No matter where I looked, all I saw were corpses, countless corpses lying on the ground, scattered like a painting of death. The beach was adorned with the corpses of knights and soldiers alike, the sand now crimson as it was stained by blood, my own hands were stained with blood, my whole life stained by blood.
I walked towards the sea, my eyes fixed on the horizon. The suns began to set, turning the sky into a beautiful crimson red, so similar to the ground below, and yet so magnificent.
I turned once again to see the mountains of corpses, piles of bodies thrown on top of one another. Corpses were the only thing I could see
“For the Glory of the Gods!”
Suddenly I heard a noise, a chant in the distance.
I closed my eyes, focusing on all the sounds around me, slowly homing in on the chant. Voices of hundreds of men and women became clearer, the sound of their footsteps grew closer.
They were just beyond these woods, they would reach me within minutes, and within minutes, they would all die.
I pulled my sword out of its sheath and stabbed the sand, placing both of my hands on the hilt, the rough leather feeling so familiar. I took a deep breath, inhaling all the decaying air of the hundreds of corpses surrounding me and I stared at the sky.
The suns had yet to fully set, but they will, and then they will rise again. They have always done that, and they will continue to do so. It did not matter what happened beneath the sky, it did not matter how much violence this world would see, the suns would always rise and set.
A few stars began shining faintly like splatters of paint on canvas, and I raised my arm, imagining how nice it would be to grab a star with my own hands, but I knew that no matter how hard I tried, I could never reach them.
But I will reach Them. And I will kill them. I’ll kill them all.
“For the glory of the Gods!”
The chant grew closer, we would meet any second now. I clenched my fist as my arm was still raised, and I dropped it.
My face contorted as I looked at the sand, a deep pain growing within my chest. The sand had lost completely lost its golden colour, even the crimson colour had grown darker with each passing second.
I could not even imagine how many people I killed to change the sand of this island, and I could not even imagine how many more I was about to kill.
I took another deep breath, trying to calm the whirlpool of emotions stirring with me, and turned to look at the sky behind me. The suns were no longer visible, now covered by giant boulders engulfed in flames descending upon us.
It took mere seconds before the chanting turned to fear-filled screams. There was nothing they could do. The meteors would fall down, and countless more people would die today.
The Island was now full of screams and prayers as they foresaw their inescapable death. I saw them running as far as they could as they left the woods, they pushed against one another and many of them fell, trampled by their own companions.
My eyes fell on one particular man; he seemed to be barely of age, and within seconds he was stepped over by countless people, all his limbs were now broken, and his body was bruised and bleeding,
I stood before them, both my hands resting on the hilt of my sword still stabbed into the ground, and they could only run. Some ran to the woods, trying to find cover in the trees, whilst others tried to reach the ocean, trying to find salvation in its violent embrace. All of them would run, but none dared approach me.
Despite being surrounded by them, I was still alone.
Soon, they would all die.
And then everything turned black.
***
The boy suddenly jerked awake, his hand tightly clutching his necklace; he struggled to breathe, each breath was quick and shallow, and his entire body was drenched in sweat, maybe because of the dream he just had or maybe because of the Long Summer.
He turned in his bed, burying his head into his pillow, now rather thin after having been worn out in the last few years.
The boy, Caine, could not stop thinking about what he just dreamt, the confusion he felt was indescribable, it was the first time he ever had a dream feel so vivid.
Caine laid in his bed, waving his arm around in his empty room, recalling each movement, each action he took in the dream, trying to replicate them.
He never had a dream like that. But to Caine, that was not a dream, but a nightmare; he was on some island, in the midst of a battle, clearly having slaughtered countless people, and countless more were going to die by his hand.
He hated the thought of it.
And yet, the feeling of his hand on the hilt of the sword lingered in his mind, the thought of wielding a weapon as he had in his dream was something he found exhilarating. He thought about the rough feel of the leather on the hilt, the way the blade shone as the suns began to set, and the way it fit perfectly in his hand.
That was strength.
The strength he needed in order to become a knight.
Caine fought the urge to remain in his bed, and slowly got up, looking at the floor and searching for his shoes. He found them on the opposite side of the room, near the rotten floorboard, and cursed his habit of kicking his shoes off when taking them off before going to sleep.
He walked over to grab them, ignoring the squeaking of each floorboard, and sighed at the state of them, barely held together and riddled with holes. The boy wished for a new pair, but he knew how difficult things were for this family, and he had long given up hope of getting new things.
Hope was a luxury – another luxury they couldn’t afford. Maybe, one day, if he ever became a knight.
“Caine! Get up! Breakfast is ready!” His mother yelled.
He let out another sigh, dreading the thought of getting another boiled potato for breakfast. Despite wanting more food during his first meal, Caine knew that they needed to save food for a ‘larger’ lunch, so he unhappily accepted what he received.
The one time he had asked his mother for something different, she nearly cried, her inability to give her son what he wanted was unbearable for her, and Caine regretted making the request.
He clearly remembered her ever-present smile instantly disappearing, the tears welling up in her eyes, and the way she held back her tears... it was something he never wanted to see again.
He hurried to put on his shoes, ignoring how tight they had been feeling lately, and left his empty cramped room, heading to the kitchen.
His father, with his huge frame, sat hunched at the table he made seem small, while his mother sat opposite him, her smaller frame making the table seem large.
“How many times, Bamel? How many times do I need to tell you to be careful when you’re working?” His mother’s voice carried the usual mix of frustration of concern as she stared at her husband’s blood-stained, bandaged hand.
“It’s nothing, Lisa. I cut myself on the axe.” Bamel replied, his voice so deep and rough, and yet so full of love towards her.
Caine walked in to find them having the same conversation they would have nearly every day.
“Morning, Caine.” His mother, Lisa, said pulling him into a tight hug.
“Morning mom.” He replied, returning the hug and kissing her cheek.
Caine turned around, facing his father. “Morning, dad.” He awkwardly greeted him.
“Morning.” His response was blunt, the softness his voice carried when speaking to his own wife was nowhere to be heard when he spoke to his own son.
Caine sat near his mother as she offered him a plate of - not to his surprise - just a boiled potato, which he ate in silence until he felt his mother’s hand on his face.
A green light emanated from her hand, and a surge of energy overcame him. healing magic.
There were very few people who could use healing magic, it was an extremely rare element. Although healing mages were extremely sought out, not much was known about the edict of their magic, which made Lisa a magical wonder.
Caine always felt a certain pride in seeing her magic, knowing that his mother was special, always gave him hope that he himself may become an exceptional mage.
Most people had the potential of using magic, once their mana cores developed, they would be able to use at least one of the basic elements, although the potential to use magic did not always mean that they would.
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Often, the amount of mana that could be stored in their mana cores was insignificant, nowhere near enough to even cast a basic spell.
On the other hand, those who could store a good amount of mana, could have the opportunity to become knights and adventurers, especially if they had a good affinity for any elemental mana.
And those truly blessed by mana could use magic beyond any common sense.
Mana chose the strong, and only the strong were blessed with mana.
Caine would often wonder if he would be able to use any when he grew up, hoping to maybe become a healing mage like mother, or maybe be able to use wind magic like his father, though he had never seen him actually use magic.
“There you go. Completely fine.” His mother smiled at him.
His mother, Lisa, was a beautiful woman, with silky, long jet-black hair that would flow down her back like gentle waves. Her deep brown eyes always looked at everything with unyielding positivity, her own gaze always making everyone smile at her.
She was an extremely kind woman, more than she should be; despite how people in their small village treated them, she had always made sure to extend a helping hand and would heal anyone in need, regardless of who they were.
‘Magic is meant to be used to help people, Caine.’ That is what she always used to say, instilling the thought that he should help people, that magic is meant for the good of the people, rather than causing pain.
Caine looked away from his mother, and his gaze fell upon his father, Bamel.
He was different, the complete opposite of his mother. Where she looked delicate, he was rough; had it not been for his wife, his hair and beard would always look a mess, full of knots and unkept, but Lisa always took her time to comb through them, making sure he always looked presentable; but they both enjoyed that, they were a few intimate minutes they had fully to themselves.
Bamel was strong, ridiculously strong. He was a logger, every day he would chop down trees with his unusually large axe, and would carry the logs himself, selling them for firewood in Arzamac.
While Caine loved his parents, a part of him resented his father, or rather he resented the distance that was created between him and his father. Years ago, Bamel would always spend as much time as possible with Caine, he used to pick him up and throw him in the air, throwing so high despite his wife’s protests, but he always caught him.
Months ago, for the first time, Caine even received a present, an old necklace, just a rusty chain with an old ring, far too large for Caine’s finger, but nevertheless it was his. His own little treasure.
Caine’s eyes stayed upon his father, wondering how they ever grew apart, now so distant from one another, and regardless of how much he tried to lessen the distance, his father remained coldly detached.
“What are you going to do today, Caine?” Lisa asked, her voice breaking the silence as usual. “Going to play with your friends?”
“Yes, we’re going to play in the playground.” He lied. He did not want to burden her with the truth.
How could he tell his mother that he did not have any friends? That the people she loved to help were nothing but cruel to them, simply taking advantage of her kindness.
However, as he replied, the corners of her lips arose, her smile beaming, making Caine smile in return. This all just made it easier for Caine to lie to her. There was nothing he hated more than seeing her sad.
“Don’t forget your chores, boy.” Bamel’s voice echoed. “You can play after you do what you are supposed to do.”
He looked at his son, his gaze cold and distant, empty of any signs of love. Caine felt a lump in his throat and anger surged within him.
‘Why does he keep me at a distance? Am I not his son? Does he not love me?’ Caine could not help but harbour these thoughts whenever he spoke with his father.
“Yes, father.” Caine replied, a hint of annoyance slipping into his voice. “I will do my chores and then I will play. Does that suit you? Or would you have me stay home the entire day?”
“Caine!” Lisa’s voice thundered, “He is your father, and you will show him respect. Watch your tone.”
“It’s alright, Lisa.” Bamel replied, an unlucky smile appearing on his face. “He is growing, he is bound to speak his mind more often. Even disrespectfully at times.”
A mixture of anger and embarrassment emerged at their words within Caine. He never intended to be disrespectful, and frankly he did not think he was. But he never wanted his parents to think he did not respect them.
He just wanted freedom, he no longer wanted to feel imprisoned in Arzamac.
He would often dream about leaving, moving somewhere else, anywhere else, to a place where they wouldn’t be hated for just existing.
That is where his dreams of knighthood began, as a means to free his parents and himself from the shackles of Arzamac.
Before he realised it, Caine finished his breakfast, still not fully satiated, but refusing to ask for more after noticing that his portion was much bigger than that of his parents’.
He stood up and ran out of the door after giving his mother a kiss and nodding politely at his father and ignoring their heavy gazes on his back as he left.
He headed to the dense woods minutes away from his home, the bright green scenery always overwhelmed me as it made him forget about the village behind him. Caine loved walking by these woods, he loved the sight of the trees, their colours, their musty smell, all the small animals he would always notice; he found it refreshing.
As he faced the woods, behind him stood Arzamac, with its small wooden walls to protect them from bears and boars; and while they lived within those tiny walls that gave them a sense of security, Caine and his family lived in a run-down hut, closer to the woods.
Closer to The Forest.
Lisa always told Caine to be careful when approaching The Forest, to never even consider exploring that cursed place; there had been whispers, stories of monsters and demons roaming, ready to attack and kill anything that stood in their way.
And stories of adventurers and knights killing those demons. Stories that Caine wished to be a part of one day.
He would often hear faint howls in the distance, but regardless of how much he focused, he could never catch even the faintest of glimpses of anything similar to a demon.
The boy could not wait for his mana core to develop, wishing to venture inside as one of his heroes, wishing to be able to earn enough money for his parents so that they would never starve ever again. But for now, he was stuck with chores.
The chore of the day consisted of simply of gathering some branches for their indoor fire, enough to last them a few days; it did not take long for Caine to be done, after all very rarely would they have a need for their indoor fire.
The suns always shone bright and warm, the summer had lasted many years, and it was expected to last another seven years, after which the Long Fall would arrive, which would be a warning for the world to prepare for the Great Cold.
Caine never thought about such things, for as long as he had been alive, the weather had been warm and comfortable, and he was ignorant of the pain and suffering that would come for the world when the Long Summer would end.
The second that he finished gathering enough firewood, Caine took a deep breath and steadily made his way into The Forest.
“Just three minutes.” He told himself. “That’s all I need to find those berries mother likes.”
He would often venture inside the woods, just to gather some berries. Most of the ones that grew at the edges of The Forest were sour and nearly inedible, but walking inside for mere minutes, one could find a completely different type, berries so sweet that would be fit for a king.
Caine walked carefully, with each step he took, with each branch he stepped on, with every bird chirping he felt fear, the fear The Forest would inflict upon those who were weak.
As soon as he saw the bright yellow berries, he grabbed as many as he could, throwing them in the pouch he carried, and ran away. He ran as fast as he could, his heart racing uncontrollably and yet feeling a strange excitement in doing so.
Two hours had passed, and he made his way home, basking in the warmth of the suns. He ignored his constantly grumbling stomach, having gotten used to the feeling and entered his home, wanting to give his mother the berries he collected. However, he only found his father.
“Where’s mother?” He asked awkwardly.
“Some people got hurt, and she was called in the village.” His father’s voice was cold, devoid of any feeling, making Caine feel uneasy.
“...” Silence lingered in the air.
“Before she left, she made food for us, stew with rabbit meat.” He removed the pot from the fireplace, holding it with his bare hands, not feeling any pain despite how hot it was.
Caine put the firewood away in the kitchen in a basket, and sat at the table, watching his father silently prepare the table. His father prepared the two portions and Caine’s heart felt heavy seeing his portion much larger than his father’s and stared down at it.
“I’m not hungry.” Bamel said, as if he read his son’s thoughts.
Caine glanced down, embarrassed at how easily his father saw through him, although that was overshadowed by the anguish he felt seeing his father’s portion; this was not the first time he would eat less so that he would not starve, now he was doing it again, and Caine knew it.
He hated it.
They sat opposite one another, eating in silence as a wall stood strong between them. Caine often wondered what caused this rift to appear between the two, Bamel used to be so loving and warm to him, and one day he suddenly became distant and cold, refusing to let him get close.
“Boy.” His father broke the silence, his voice sounding unexpectedly gentle. “I know your mother loves those berries, but you should not go into The Forest so often. You’re not strong enough yet.”
‘Yet.’
That word lingered in Caine’s mind; this was the first time his father expressed any belief in Caine’s strength.
The boy believed that his father grew distant because he was not what he expected: Bamel was strong and imposing, whereas Caine was small and frail, even for a child his age. The boy believed the distance was created because he was weak.
‘Yet.’
His father believed in him. It was only one sentence, one sentence that was said in passing, one sentence Bamel did not put much thought into, but it was one sentence that deeply affected Caine.
For the first time in a long time, Caine felt happy with his father. His hand was drawn to his necklace, to the gift his father gave him, and he happily ate, looking down to prevent his father from seeing the large grin on his face.
Caine continued eating, now no longer finding the silence awkward, and while he still felt the distance between the two, he was hopeful that would not always be the case. His father cared for him, that much was certain.
Unbeknownst to him, Bamel’s eyes portrayed an indescribable feeling at the sight of his son holding onto his necklace so tightly, a gut-wrenching sorrow overcame him.
He stared at his son for a few minutes, not even bothering to eat the little stew he had in front of him.
The moment he noticed Caine had finished his stew, he pushed his plate towards him, offering what he had left, but Caine quickly shook his head, still grinning.
Bamel stood up, and Caine looked at him smiling as he walked towards him, placing his trembling hand on his shoulder; his imposing figure always made him seem threatening to anyone, but there was no one that could deny the love Bamel was feeling for his son at this moment; the gentleness of his touch, the expression in his eyes, everything was that of a loving father.
Only Caine was unaware of this, for so long he did not feel his father’s love, this moment just seemed strange to him.
“My son.” Bamel’s voice was shaking. “I’ll do the dishes. You go out and play as much as you want.”
Bamel could not look at his son anymore, now just staring at Caine’s empty bedroom. His jaw tightened, and his cheeks were twitching almost as if he was holding back tears. This was the first time Caine had seen his father be so vulnerable, and he simply did not know how to react.
Caine handed him his empty plate, stood up, feeling compelled to give him a hug, and walked out of the hut as his gaze was constantly drawn back to it.
“I’m sorry, my sweet boy.” Bamel whispered in the empty kitchen as he began putting away the dirty plate.
Caine walked along the path to enter Arzamac as he struggled to compose himself, but before he could even think about what had just happened, he heard someone call out his name.
He saw his mother walking towards him, but suddenly she began running towards him, dropping down to her knees, and pulling him into a big hug, nearly knocking him to the ground.
Lisa was exhausted, she was drenched in sweat, partly because of the summer’s heat, but more because she had spent the last hour and a half healing many people in Arzamac after one of the defensive walls collapsed on the other side of the village.
Caine always felt weird seeing his mother work herself so hard, especially for those ungrateful people.
“Caine, I don’t think you know how much I love you.” Her arms were still around him, holding him tight as he struggled to breathe properly.
“Mom... Can’t breathe.” He managed to mumble.
“Sorry.” She replied, reluctantly letting him go, and stared into his eyes for what seemed to be an eternity. “I just want to make sure that you know I love you. A lot. Never forget that.”
Her voice felt loving and cheerful as always, but the look in her eyes was completely different from what it should be. It felt like... pity.
Lisa kissed her son’s forehead and after exchanging goodbyes, she went back home, leaving Caine by himself, wondering what had happened for his parents to act so strangely, but he ultimately decided to ignore it, just feeling happy about his newfound understanding of his father.
Now, he just needed to spend a few hours outside, after having told his parents he was going to play with his ‘friends’. He walked into Arzamac, heading towards the playground on the other side of the village.
A crowd gathered in the village square; it seemed as if everyone from the village was there. He pushed his way into the crowd, trying to see what exactly was happening, but the people suddenly opened up a path, and Caine bumped into something hard and fell to the ground.
He looked up and saw something bright. Sunlight was reflecting onto a shining armour. A knight. Behind him there were three others wearing similar armour, all staring at the boy.
A party of knights had come to Arzamac.