In the wake of the chapel's horrors, Kael snatched the amulet from the dead knight before he emerged into the blinding sunlight, his mind a tempest of turmoil and confusion. The vestiges of his recent ordeal clung to him in the form of blood stains, an ominous emblem that marked him as a figure of dread in the eyes of the horrified onlookers. Gasps of shock and horror erupted from those who witnessed his emergence, their voices echoing the name "murderer" through the air. Fear and revulsion rippled through the crowd, casting Kael as a pariah in his own city.
The voice within him, now a haunting echo, pressed upon his consciousness. "Run," it commanded, a stark reminder of the urgency to escape the judgmental eyes and accusing fingers. Acting on pure instinct, Kael sprinted away from the open streets, seeking refuge in the labyrinthine alleyways that wound between the towering buildings. These alleys, though shadowed, provided him little solace—each seemed more like a hidden street than a true escape.
As he navigated this unfamiliar territory, a gnawing doubt nestled in his mind. Should he return to the forge and risk implicating his master in whatever darkness had befallen the chapel? The weight of his choices bore heavily upon him as he sought sanctuary in the dim corners of the city's underbelly. The voice persisted, urging him on, but it wasn't alone this time. Whispers of his own doubt mingled with the voice's command, questioning its motives, its identity, and the price Kael might pay for heeding its call.
Finally, he found himself at a crossroads in one of the winding alleyways. Struggling to catch his breath, Kael surveyed his surroundings, aware that the authorities could close in on him at any moment. A pair of guards approached, their steel-clad forms an ominous portent. Fear clawed at his chest, a stark reminder of the perilous path he now tread. With little time to think, he instinctively sought refuge behind some wooden barrels, hoping his concealment would go unnoticed.
The guards exchanged words, their dialogue carrying a chilling undercurrent. One seemed to sense something—the lingering taint of blood that clung to Kael. The other, however, dismissed it as a minor detail, the aftermath of a fallen animal. But Kael's relief was short-lived. The guard who had caught the scent was relentless in his pursuit of whatever foul secret the air carried.
Tension hung thick as the guard neared Kael's hiding place. Heart pounding, Kael's voice trembled as he raised his hands in surrender, his words imploring them not to harm him. And then, in an instant, darkness surged forth, shrouding the alleyway in an ominous veil. Kael watched in awe and dread as the guards were ensnared by this abyss, their forms twisting, contorting, and finally crumbling into grotesque shapes. The darkness seemed alive, an embodiment of the nightmare that had invaded his life.
With the guards dispatched, Kael stood amidst the aftermath, his emotions a tumultuous storm. The power he had wielded, whether consciously or unconsciously, sent shivers down his spine. He felt a surge of both exhilaration and dread, realizing that he was no longer just a victim, but a wielder of forces beyond his comprehension.
The dark alleys had become both sanctuary and peril as Kael navigated through them, wary of people and the power that seemed to surge within him, a power he barely comprehended. It was a strange and daunting gift that both fascinated and terrified him, like a hidden blade he struggled to control. Guards and knights patrolled the city, their presence a constant reminder of the dangers that lurked. Kael realized that to protect his master and himself, he needed to draw the attention of these guardians away from the forge.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows in the alleyways, Kael seized his opportunity. He observed his master, Master Faelon, lock up the forge and head home, a surge of relief washing over him as he saw that his mentor was safe. He bided his time until the cover of night concealed his movements, and when the city was enshrouded in darkness, he ventured to the forge.
Entering the silent forge, Kael felt an odd sense of homecoming despite the weight of his predicament. He moved quietly, trying not to disturb the sanctity of the place where he had spent countless days honing his craft. Sitting by his makeshift bed, he contemplated his next steps. He was not safe within the city's walls, but the world beyond held myriad uncertainties.
Kael's mind became filled with conflicting thoughts and emotions, and in the stillness of the forge, he engaged in a silent, introspective dialogue with his shadowy companion. The voice, a beguiling presence that seemed to coil around his thoughts, whispered with an almost seductive quality. "Kael," it murmured softly, "imagine what awaits beyond these city walls. This stone cage of yours. The world is vast, untamed, and you now possess a power that can shape your destiny."
Kael's eyes, haunted and uncertain, flitted around the familiar but now eerie forge. "But at what cost?" he countered, his voice barely more than a whisper. "These gifts, these whispers... its evil.. I've seen what they can do."
The voice responded with an air of intrigue. "True, power is a double-edged sword. It can both create and destroy. But don't you hunger for a life free from the grind of this forge, from the confines of this city?"
Kael's fingers curled around the handle of a forging tool he had taken, its weight reassuring and familiar. "Yes," he admitted, his tone laced with longing. "But I fear what I may become, what price I might pay."
The voice seemed to envelop him, weaving its tendrils of persuasion. "Fear is a natural companion on the path to transformation, Kael. But it is also the crucible in which courage is forged. Embrace this change, and together, we shall navigate the darkness."
Kael's internal struggle continued, the voice's promises tempting him even as he clung to the remnants of his old life. "What is your name? Your real name." he asked, a tinge of desperation in his voice.
A sinister chuckle echoed in his mind, a stark contrast to the voice's earlier allure. "You may call me Elara," it whispered, its repeated answer and tone now imbued with an unsettling allure. After a night spent grappling with his own thoughts and the cryptic counsel of his unseen “guardian”, Kael managed to steal a few precious hours of rest.
As dawn approached, and the metallic clanging of city guards echoed outside the forge. He awoke with a sense of urgency, knowing that time was slipping away. With a heavy heart, he penned a letter to Master Faelon, his trembling hand scrawling the words that conveyed his intention to vanish into the world beyond. The message, despite its simplicity and the imperfections of his writing, bore the weight of his decision. He left the letter on the counter, a silent farewell to the one who had been both mentor and father figure.
As he made his way to the exit, the faint glimmer of sunlight on a wall-mounted hammer caught his eye. Without a second thought, he seized it, the solid weight of the tool providing a small measure of reassurance in the uncertain path that lay ahead.