How much time has passed since he faced those terrifying monsters again? Was it forty years ago? Maybe fifty now? To what extent can one suffer losses because of the masked individuals with blackened corruption on their fingertips? It is astonishing to see how vulnerable he and his people were, as if they could be torn apart like stuffed animals, exposing their drenched insides for everyone to witness. Merciless eyes boring onto the barely whimpering victim as they stomped, kicked... violated... merely transforming into a statistic for the unnatural creatures lurking in the shadows. How he had tried to flee from the menacing shadows lurking right behind him... perhaps playing with their food, or waiting simply for their prey to give up. A cycle without resistance or hope, destined for eternity.

The darkness soon faded though, the nightmare finding its amusement satisfactory. The light coming in to grace him with a moment’s reprieve before his consciousness arose. Instead of the intense glares, he now sensed the warmth of numerous pillows. And a different kind replaced the eerie chill; a calmer one that basked in his neck and face. Opening his eyes to his world, he sensed the discomfort in his back and knees, reminding him of what had happened moments before he became unconscious.

He remembered telling his son, Ronan, to get the people and run, and him trying to find the Pencari to deal with them. The raining embers that fizzled on the dirt ground as he ran with haste in the crumbling structures that was home. All the bodies there melted like candle wax, eyes splattering onto the ground like sardines. The calls morphed with the fire, becoming one with the crackling wood and stone and fallen black buildings. Everything and everyone gone like dust on a bookshelf. And he blamed himself for disappointing his people once more.

At that moment, he recollected the marketplace. Although not close to the fire, it still suffered a tragic fate. His mind swarmed by the haunting, horrific scenes of humans and Pencari alike, both grotesque and human, ripping into the fabric of life itself. Some stood still, trapped in a bubble as blood drenched from their arms, their throats slashed open wide. But everyone experienced the same emotion... The same harrowing sadness and panic that drowned them into silence and horror. A battlefield filled with innocence, honor, and terror.

And through it all, there he stood amid the red sea, encased by the murky eyes that never moved, no sound coming from their throat. It was the calm before the storm, until another person, seemingly a boy, ran towards him. He should have realized it was a trap based on his appearance; a boy too clean for the surroundings they were in. There he was, going to comfort him, just as he had always done for Ronan. The child’s grasp swiftly suspended the man in the air, choking his throat. His own blood suffocated him, blinding his vision as his very own body sought to rip him apart. Quickly, his eyes closed, finding peace until the light woke him once more. This time, it was from Ronan’s voice, pleading with him to wake up. Although drowsy, he remembered how his heart threatened to jump seeing his only son bloodied and wounded. Everything became a blur after that.

As he reflected on the past, he heard someone walking up to him. His drowsy eyes spotted a stranger. “Who--” He coughed, his throat dry from lack of activity.

Malik noticed him waking up and held a smile. “What a relief. Some were worried you were beyond saving. How are you doing?”

River noticed the man’s exceptional height, along with black horns and red eyes. The red eyes alone made him tremble and clammy, but the man wasn’t concealing his face and didn’t appear violent. “My age is showing, it seems,” he coughed. “Please... please... where’s my son?”

The hellhound examined the elderly man, searching for anything unusual aside from his old wounds. “Your son is alive and well. He is outside right now. Let’s focus on you, ok?” Malik cooed. “Your wounds are pretty severe, so do try not to strain yourself.”

“Then I can see him? Please?” River begged, not even wanting to ask what the creature was in front of him. “I just want to see him...” He wanted to add more, but couldn’t formulate the words, still too drowsy from before. His mind was a jumbled mess, and the shock made his heart thump wildly against his chest. His stomach twisted at the thought of not seeing his son himself, solely to observe with his own eyes that he was fine. But the stranger’s expression... it softened, like a wave of relief washed over him. River didn’t fully grasp the other’s struggles to care for him, but he valued their kindness.

The hellhound nodded. “Yes, of course. He can come in here for a bit, but you must stay down until I deem you healthy enough, understand?”

He nodded, too tired to reply with a verbal answer. Afterward, River witnessed the departure of the horned creature from his sight. Once again, his thoughts took control of him. How did Ronan handle seeing his father on the brink of death, the person he admired and relied on for guidance and safety? His heart must have been shattered into a million pieces; cursing and begging and screaming. And he had left him alone.

After a moment, the sound of footsteps returned. With difficulty, he glimpsed his son; eyes watery and heaving as if he had run all the way here. Ronan said nothing, but got next to his father and held his hand. His body shook, relieved that father and son survived the Pencari’s hell. “My boy, you’re ok.” River smiled, sensing the burden lifted from his chest.

“I am... I am... what about you?”

“Like I told that... strange man, my age is showing, it seems.” He drawled out a soft laugh at the end of his sentence. “What happened while I was unconscious?”

Ronan explained what had happened: how they could save only half of their people, and it would’ve been worse if the Hellhounds and Raygnar’s father didn’t show up. And they are right now traveling together to get to Trevor’s home; the Draconic elf settlement. After a few days, they were getting close to settling. Despite the confusion and amazement, he didn’t complain.

“A few days?” River blurted out. “Oh dear... you must have been worried sick.”

“Of course I was! But... I did what you said and found the people and led them to safety. I’m here... Kyle and his family, Huon, Mrs. Stark, families with children, and the orphan children, Stungalm and Nahele. They’re all here.” His smile faded as he realized he forgot one prudent information. “Father... I almost forgot. Nahele is a Pencari, and he’s traveling with us.”

River’s face fell. He puzzled over why a Pencari, their foe, was present. “That creature was with you?” He rasped. “It must have been for a reason then.... if he was with Stungalm.”

“Yeah... Huon wasn’t happy when he found out. He had to be detained by Stungalm to prevent more violence. That whole situation stopped our travel, but once it was handled, we resumed. I had been trying to talk to him, but he seems to avoid everyone.”

River frowned, understanding the time required for adaptation. “Stay patient, and eventually, you will get the answers you need. How are these... men? This Aralt and Trevor you mentioned to me.”

“They seem good. One, they are quite tall... makes me feel like I am a child again.” He chuckled, “Aralt’s people seem to respect him, and Trevor has been helping keep ours under control... especially after they found out about Nahele’s identity. While I am iffy, I will give them a benefit of a doubt.”

River took in the information and processed it as his body needed a few moments to rest. “That is good. Those hellhounds are quite strong, and so is this Trevor fellow. Their arrival must have been quite a sight. Speaking of them, the man who helped me earlier... was he a hellhound?”

“Ah yes. His name is Malik, and he was the one who healed me and you. He seems nice and was making sure I wasn’t straining myself either. He has a son named Azim... and is a curious fellow. I heard he has been hovering over Kyle a bit, asking questions and all that.” He paused for a moment. “And so is this Aralt... I am a bit suspicious...”

“I see... then that Malik fellow has my thanks,” River breathed out. “As for this Aralt person, it’s ok to have healthy suspicions, but like you said, give him a benefit of a doubt. Is he harming Kyle?”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“No, in fact, the opposite. He’s been pretty nice to Kyle, asking about him and his likes, as well as trying to get closer to him.” Ronan shifted uncomfortably. “I’m just... nervous about him and how he is handling Kyle... I mean... they’re so different!”

River grunted and adjusted his position. “Nothing wrong with being friendly, son. But do keep an eye on your friend. I know you are, but don’t go breathing under your friend’s neck. Ok?”

“Ok, Father...” He coughed and went quiet for a few moments. “Sorry Dad, this must be so overwhelming you.”

“It’s alright, it’s nice to be caught up. By the way, if given permission... I want to see this Aralt and Trevor for myself. Perhaps not at this moment, as I am tired, but potentially later when I wake up again.” He closed his eyes, slowly relaxing. “I am glad though... I am glad.”

Ronan kept his eyes on his father as he slowly entered a state of sleep, and he stayed by his side until he was certain of his unconsciousness. Having nothing more to say or do, he exited the cart and became aware of the changing scenery outside. From his position, a good five feet above the ground, he observed the expansive waters in the distance. He stared at it for what might’ve been a long time, if Malik didn’t interrupt it: “That’s the ocean.”

“Ocean?”

“I can assume your people never seen it before,” Malik continued. “Seawater, it’s what makes up most of our world. A body of water that is all connected, but it’s divided by land.”

Ronan continued to stare. The name rang a bell, but no specific memories came to mind. “Must be so, since we only knew about lakes and rivers.”

Malik stayed quiet as he allowed Ronan to reflect. Once the man finished, the hellhound broke the silence, “Is your father still awake?”

“No, he is asleep now.” He turned to Malik. “But he wanted to talk to Aralt and Trevor when he woke up again.”

“I will tell them both, then.” The hellhound smiled, “In the meantime, get yourself ready. That ocean is the sign that we are close to the settlement.”

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With his eyes darting right and left, he felt that there were no more potential threats coming their way. He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that they were protected for now. He subsequently whistled loudly, turning back to the people following him; a signal for Stungalm to come back. Once done, he patted Raygnar’s cart. “Meet with your mother once we’re inside. Tell her I’ll be right there when I am done settling matters.”

Raygnar nodded as they approached their home. A wooden gate encircled the coastline, shielding them from the outside world they were unaware of. Trevor recognized the potential threat of ignorance today, given his people’s perpetual stubbornness. He walked on to notify the guardsmen at the entrance. The men bore leather armor, adorned in fur and patches of metal they scavenged. Some wielded melee weapons and shields, while others had ranged weapons like spears and hand-axes for throwing.

As Trevor approached them, they had to do a double-take. “J-Jarl Havon? How did you--!” One of them exclaimed, “I-I mean, welcome back!”

Trevor smiled with confidence. “Long story, and I will explain once everyone is inside. But right now, I need one of you to get the soldiers here to help me. And I need them now.”

“O-of course!” One guard left while the other approached Trevor. Upon seeing the unknown people behind him, he pointed at them with his spear. “And who are these people?”

“At ease, boy, these are the people that need help. Step aside now, they are not your enemy. They are allies and refugees. So I suggest you put your weapon down.” He held onto the spear and pushed it down to enforce his order. Despite confusion, the guard allowed the carts to enter; followed by the remaining humans and hellhounds. Stungalm soon appeared, slipping through the crowd and inside the settlement before the gate closed shut behind them.

Stepping forward, Ronan and Aralt observed their surroundings. Around them were buildings of various sizes, made of stone and wood, with shingled roofs on top. The sound of various people with livestock echoed around them, complimented by a pleasant ocean breeze that tickled their skin. Despite the dusty and dirty homes and streets, Ronan found himself pleasantly surprised by the liveliness of this place.

“Everyone, welcome to your new home.“ Trevor told the refugees, then he turned to his soldiers and civilians, who were gawking at them. “All of you, please! Get back to work! There’s nothing to see here! Questions that you may have shall be reserved for later. Once I have them settled, then I will start a meeting. Finish up what you are doing, and we will meet at the Banquet Hall.” His words put everyone back on track, and the street was filled with people going about their business. He then turned to Aralt and Ronan. “We’ll need to find a place for your people in the meantime. Perhaps a temporary spot until we can get you settled in.”

Ronan was the first to speak. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Until then,” Aralt pointed behind him with his thumb; Stungalm being the target. “Should we get him fuckin’ unmasked? Don’t need your people freaking out.”

“I can hear you.”

“Good.” Aralt responded sharply.

“Enough, and he’s fine. I know what he looks like, and my people can be at ease with that knowledge.” He held his hand up, hoping to prevent a mild altercation. “Just focus on getting your people to rest up.”

“I’ll go on ahead, Dad,” Raygnar dismissed himself and left the scene with his horse-drawn carriage. Giving a brief nod to his son, he signaled for everyone to accompany him as he walked away. With his guidance, Trevor led the remaining people through the busy streets. Ronan seized the chance to further inspect the new location. They passed by even more buildings, catching a brief view of where the ocean and land converged, and where the ships called their home. Their appearance astonished Ronan with their grace, length, narrowness, and light wood color. It had a shallow draft hull, and the boats were double-ended. “Trevor, what are those boats?”

“Longships. Been with my people since... well... forever. We use them mostly for fishing now, but it has been said my ancestors were big on navigations and sailing the oceans.” He gave a shrug, with a small smile. They continued walking while others admired the longships; mostly humans, as they never saw ships in person.

They kept moving ahead until they reached an open clearing on the town’s edge; but still protected with the wooden settlement gate. It looked to be mostly empty, so Trevor signaled everyone to take residence there. “I’ll see if I can get some provisions delivered here until we can figure out your next step.” He told Ronan, who nodded. Aralt simply moved on ahead and brought his hellhound towards the campground.

“We are grateful for you helping my people,” Ronan said. “I will try to get things sorted on my end as well, and maybe we can discuss how we can possible pay you.”

“Worry about that once your people get themselves situated. For now, I need to let my people know about all this, as I can imagine they are very confused.” He gave a pat to Ronan’s shoulder. “It’ll be a while, but I will be right back.”

“Before you go,” Stungalm’s voice interjected, stepping forward toward Ronan and Trevor. “Are you the leader of this settlement?”

“I thought that to be obvious,” Trevor blinked, “but yes, I am.”

The question initially confused Ronan, but then he understood Stungalm’s intention. “This is not the time for that!” He called out as Stungalm unsheathed his pistol sword and pointed at Trevor.

The Draconic Elf leader frowned, his eyes narrowing. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“Stungalm... he... he was raised to fight every leader of settlements he visited. Whether the leader or their adult children. It’s nothing hostile!” Ronan tried to reassure and then turned to Stungalm, “this is not the time to do this!” He got in between them, hoping to de-escalate before it got worse. This moment compelled everyone to cease their actions and observe.

With a crowd forming, Trevor shook his head and sighed. “Funny enough, my people wouldn’t be opposed to witness this. We have ever been people about strength, valor, and fortitude.” He drew his sword and shield out, causing the alarm in Ronan and the others. He set himself into a battle stance, hoping to put Stungalm off. “We value tradition, but we can be rather hostile. So if you think you can intimidate me, think again.”

Ronan quickly got in between them both and held his hands up. “Please, there is no need for this!”

“While I’ll respect your ideals,” Stungalm took a step back to assess his situation, “but I have my own. There’s a saying: ‘You are only as strong as your leader’. However, I haven’t witnessed that personally among your people.

“Step aside Ronan.” Trevor nudged the human with his shield. “And no worries. This won’t change our relations.” He smiled, “besides, I need to let off some steam, anyway.”

With an exasperated sigh, Ronan relented. Realizing his lack of effectiveness, he made way for others. Aralt then pulled him aside by the arm and urged him to back up. The surrounding crowd backed up, forming a ring for the fight.. In the ring, fighters positioned themselves and eyed each other, readying for the first fight; the first match between human and draconic elf.