Cyrus struggled to keep up with his father as they traveled through thick forest searching for the next village they would live in for a time. His prepubescent body although trained since he could walk still struggled to keep stride with his father after walking for hours on end.

“Why do we always have to move right when I start to make friends in the village?” Cyrus shouted ahead of him.

“Well us moving isn’t because you made friends. If anything I want you to have lots of friends. So hopefully the next village we make it to you can make more friends.” His father said as he slowed pace to let Cyrus catch back up to him.“Anyways I’m getting hungry so let’s catch something for dinner and camp for the night. This will be a good opportunity for you to practice your archer skills on a moving target.”

His father who had gone by a different name every village they had been to since Cyrus could remember reached behind Cyrus with his only arm and unstrapped the bow passing it to Cyrus with some string saying

“Start with stringing the bow but make sure it doesn’t get wet or else the string will stretch and possibly deform.”

“Why do you always treat me like a child! It’s not like I haven’t strung the bow a thousand times. Why can’t you just let me do it without lecturing me about moisture or how bows need to be properly finished with oil and beeswax.” Cyrus grumbled back.

“Cy, I don’t mean to lecture you or make you upset, but we as humans become complacent with monotonous work and although we can do something a thousand times. It tends to be the one time it counts where something will go wrong. So I want to drill it into you to the point where even when I’m not around you hear my voice reminding you of the small details.” His father responded patiently.

They both then worked in silence as Cyrus strung the bow and his father checked each arrow in the quiver for any that maybe crooked or fragile. Finally after struggling for a bit to get the bow properly strung Cyrus broke the silence

“The bow’s ready, So am I finally getting to hunt on my own.”

“Nah, It’s not that I don’t trust you, but it’s better we stick together since we’re in the borderlands of the war. I will treat it as though I’m not here so if you miss your prey we’ll be going to bed hungry” his father said with a grin.

Cyrus scoffed at the fading smirk on his father’s face. “I swear since when did I raise such a grumpy boy. Must be from your mother” his father mumbled. “And I thought you were a soldier not a delicate dandy!” Cyrus responded as his voice cracked in annoyance.

While he threw the quiver of arrows over one shoulder and the bow over the other and marched in the forest with little stealth.

“Hey who taught you such slander. Is it from the books Scribe Nika was lending you. Wait for your dear papa you know I get scared by myself!” His father called after him while hurriedly hiding their supplies in some shrubs and grabbing his hunting spear with his only arm.

Cyrus after a bit of stomping through the forest out of frustration. Decided to start moving more stealthily. Thinking he lost his father and none of the other inhabitants of the forest could sense him. He slowed his movement making them with patience and precision searching for tracks from deer or any other animal he could make his prey. Finally after stalking through the forest for what felt like ages Cyrus came across a pair of hoof prints. With further examination he could tell these prints were too short and rounded to be from deer. So it had to be some type of boar he was going to be tracking.

After hours of following the tracks and almost losing the trail a few times. Cyrus heard a squeal not far from his position. This squeal was a lot deeper and more intimidating than any he had heard before. Stalking closer to where the squeal originated. He saw the largest and plumpest boar he’d ever laid eyes on with massive tusks shaped more like curved swords than actually tusks. Quickly Cyrus scurried up the closest tree straining not to make any sound. He found a solid branch that overlooked the boar’s position. Quietly he pulled an arrow from his quiver and took aim. Remembering what his father had taught him the best place to aim at the broadside of the boar would be slightly above his front leg.

Waiting patiently for a good Cyrus took a deep inhale of breath then released the arrow on his exhale. The arrow landed perfectly in his target, but something wasn’t right instead of collapsing to ground or giving its final squeals the boar seemed to be enraged. Frantically searching its surroundings looking for whoever or whatever dared to hurt it. Cyrus taken aback from the sudden change started to retreat back towards the trunk of the tree, when the branch he was standing groaned ever so slightly.

Cyrus looked back just in time to see the boar charging his tree. Not taking any chances he jumped over to the tree next to his and not even a second after landing and getting his footing on another branch. The tree he was standing on toppled with the bottom of trunk shattered into a thousand splinters. Calming himself like he’d been instructed all those times during his father’s rigorous training. He assessed the situation and decided he could still handle the boar as long as he kept himself in the trees and misdirected the boars attention. It clearly was all brawn and very little brain.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Cyrus then nocked his bow again intentionally aiming away from the bow and towards a tree behind. He quickly released the arrow and with one fluid motion drew the another arrow and knocked it before the first one hit its target with a thunk. The boar hearing the thunk immediately turned and charged where the arrow landed. Taking what little time he had Cyrus lead his arrow in the path the boar was charging towards. Then released it before the boar reached where he was aiming. Right before the boar impacted the tree it was charging an arrow penetrated the back of it’s causing it to stumble and collide with the from all the built up momentum.

The boar not even close to having its fiery rage quenched got back up and searched for its target. This stoked something deep inside Cyrus. He loved to see the boar struggle and wanted to make it suffer for defying his will. So Cyrus continued his tactic of drawing the boar’s attention and shooting it while it was distracted, but even as the boar slowed from fatigue and blood. Cyrus did not finish it off he instead reveled in this feeling of superiority and finally when the boar collapsed he jumped from his tree. Pulling a hunting knife from his sheath so he could make it suffer just a bit longer.

That is until he heard a shuffle behind him. Without thinking he dropped the hunting knife and drew his bow knocking it and turned to face this new threat. Upon turning he saw his father looking at him not with anger for wasting so many arrows or making the boar suffer, but with a great sadness and concern. A sadness that was born of love for his son and the man he never wanted Cyrus to become.

Cyrus continued to aim the bow at his father even drawing the string a little farther. They both stood there for what felt like an eternity neither speaking nor breaking eye contact. Cyrus looked deep in his father’s trying to find a reason to shoot some kind of challenge or threat that would stand against him so he could revel just a bit longer in this feeling of pure bliss, but there was nothing just a reflection of a boy whose darkness was consuming.

Cyrus dropped the bow falling to his knees and wept for what he might have done and what he had already did. His father slowly approached shoving his spear into the ground and hugged him weeping with his and for the struggles he knew they both were to face in the times to come.

After some time the sun began to sink into the sky. Cyrus and his father walked back to their supplies. His father carrying the boar turned pin cushion with his one arm. While Cyrus carried his father’s spear and the bow.

Once they reached the supplies which were closer than Cyrus had thought, because he had lost his direction too caught up in tracking and the hunt. His father stripped the hide from the boar and took the tusks out placing them both to the side. While Cyrus prepared a fire to cook the meat on. They went on in silence until dinner was done cooking.

His father finally breaking the silence. “You know this hide would’ve made a good cloak for you, but now it’s so holey priests would have to start worshipping it.” He said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“But these tusks I can probably make some really nice twin daggers and maybe be able to upgrade them later if you find some nice metal.” The smile that was there a moment ago slowly faded replaced with a neutral expression.

“I’m sorry” His father said

Cyrus then looked up in shock. “Why are you sorry I about killed you and destroyed most of our arrows and tortured that boar and” His father cut Cyrus off before he could finish his train of thought.

“It’s not your fault. I didn’t prepare you enough or tell you what you will really have to deal with in the future. There’s a darkness inside you one I was hope the relic I make you wear would contain, but it seems it can still affect your decision making. Especially during the heat of battle it looks like.” Cyrus’s father seemed to go into deep contemplation after stating this.

“How did I end up with this darkness inside of me? Does it have to with mother?” Cyrus asked but his father seemed to go even deeper into thought from this question.

“I honestly don’t know how to explain all of this to you, but I just want you to know I love you and I’m sorry this life was forced on you. This darkness won’t only just make you want to do evil but if you remove the relic it will give you a great power a black flame that consumes everything. I wish I could teach you how to control it, but I can only help you with controlling your emotions or at least trying to help. I believe in you though as you grow I know you can master yourself and your powers. So you will be able to help people who won’t be able to help themselves.”

Cyrus looking even more confused than before asked “Why are you saying all of this like you’re about to die or something. Which now I have even more questions than before and don’t know where to even start.”

His father looked up with a slight genuine smile. “Don’t worry I’m not planning to die for a while. I just was thinking soon we’ll go meet an old friend of mine. Who can hopefully help you control your powers. If I didn’t destroy my bond with the crest I may would be able to help with my magic but now my magic pathways are burnt. I’d probably kill myself trying to use them again.”

Cyrus examined his father as though it was his first time seeing him. “Maybe you’re more than just some one armed hobo after all. You have a lot of explaining to do.” His father chuckled softly. “I prefer vagabond or wanderer, but I’ll try to answer all your questions soon. For now let’s get some sleep so we’re ready for tomorrow’s journey.”

Cyrus beginning to protest realized just how fatigued he was from the hunt and the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Decided to comply for now and pulled out his bed roll. Not a second after his head touched the ground darkness took him.