Prologue:

WHERE THE RED FLOWERS BLOOM

I

Mist of dawn lay on the shroud of the thick forest, small bugs traverse through the marsh when suddenly a boot trampled on them. It belonged to a foot soldier, holding a spear and looking suspiciously and nervously in different directions. Following behind him were more men, all dressed in red uniforms, and they all possessed a striking fear as they slowly advanced through the woodland.

 In the midst of the ancient forest, one of the soldiers suddenly halted, his fingers tightly gripping the shaft of his spear. He turned to his comrade, his voice hushed.

 "Did ye hear that, Copper?"

 Copper's ears perked up as he listened intently. Prominently displayed on his uniform was the emblem of a proud rose, elegantly embroidered onto a patch on the upper left chest, right above his heart.

 After a few moments, Copper shook his head and whispered back,

 "Nay, Rusty, I heard naught but the wind through the leaves."

 Rusty's brow furrowed, and he cast an anxious glance around the shadowy woods.

 "I'm tellin' ye, Copper, I heard somethin' eerie, like the wailin' of specters. The rumors we heard back in the village, they might just be true."

 Copper let out a soft chuckle.

 "Ye've got a wild imagination, youn' friend. There are no such things as specters or ghosts. 'Tis just the forest playin' tricks on yer mind, simple as that,” he sighed, “Gods be forgiven if I ever knew what me sister saw in ye to marry."

 But before Rusty could offer a response, their conversation was abruptly halted by the gruff voice of their sergeant, a weathered warrior with battle scars etched into his hardened face.

 "Enough of your chatter, lads!" he barked in a stern tone, his eyes scanning the surroundings with utmost precision. "Keep quiet and stay alert. We've a mission to complete, and idle talk will get us nowhere!"

 Rusty and Copper exchanged uneasy glances before nodding obediently, knowing better than to question the authority of their sergeant in these perilous times. With their fears momentarily silenced, they resumed their cautious march through the dark woods.

 The forest, an age-old realm of towering trees and tangled undergrowth, surrounded them like a primeval fortress. Shafts of dappled sunlight pierced through the dense canopy, casting shifting shadows upon the forest floor. The air was thick with the earthy scent of moss and decaying leaves, and the faint hum of unseen creatures could be heard along the path.

II

At the head of the column, proudly mounted on a powerful steed, rode an armored knight whose shoulders bore the insignia of a Captain. His gleaming armor, covered in small details, hinted at his status within the ranks. Personal guards and loyal aides surrounded him, their armor glistening in the morning sun as they rode alongside their commander.

 Captain Rowan, appearing remarkably relaxed for a man leading a formidable force, sat with an air of quiet amusement, a scrolled letter held open in hand. His Master Aide, a trusted confidant, approached him with a respectful nod.

 "My lord, do tidings from home bring good news?"

 The Captain, his eyes still fixed upon the scroll, let out a small chuckle.

 "Ah, good news indeed. It seems my lady wife has taken issue with her new surroundings. The excess of luxuries is likely to have made her forget the value of simplicity. You see, when we had naught but rags to wear and a simple meal to share, she never once complained."

 The Master Aide raised an inquisitive brow.

 "Troubles, my lord?"

 The Captain nodded.

 "Aye, there's a nuisance of a terrible spider lurking in the darkest corner of her newly acquired castle. It seems this spider has caught her beloved butterfly in its web." He closed the scroll with a dramatic flair, leaning back in his saddle. "Now, she sends word of this dire predicament, and I find myself pondering the mysteries of a wife's heart."

 At this point, one of his most loyal companions, a grizzled veteran, couldn't resist chiming in with a hearty laugh.

 "She takes both her castle and her butterflies far too earnestly, it seems."

 Captain Rowan smiled.

 "Indeed, my dear Brick! Such is the nature of women, always finding dragons where there are but flies. Why, I have half a mind to send her a knight in shining armor to rescue that poor butterfly!"

 Laughter rippled through the party of men, a brief respite from the weight of their impending mission. But not for long, for suddenly, one of the riders rushed from the other direction towards the company, calling out urgently as he reined his horse to a halt.

 "Captain Rowan!" came the distant cry of the rider. "Quick! Where is the lord Captain? Sire, I regret to inform you, that as of the last hour, we have lost all connection with the advancing force ahead... It appears the scouts have no sight of them!"

 "What?!"

 The Captain swiftly turned his gaze to the group of loyal advisors.

 "A misstep in navigation, no doubt," suggested the Master Aide, stroking his beard. "Charted routes, particularly when relied upon from royal maps, often deceive. Rarely do they reflect the true lay of the land."

 Lieutenant Brick, the grizzled veteran, offered his own wisdom,

 "The chance of misdirection seems slight, considering the sizable force in motion. It is more likely that the General has simply stumbled upon an ambush. If that is the case, shouldn't we lend him assistance?"

 Captain Rowan weighed the unsettling possibilities carefully, his hand instinctively drifting toward the hilt of his sword.

 "It is difficult to say, Lieutenant," he replied. "At this point, there's a chance we've become the ones marked for a trap. We must proceed with utmost caution."

 He sat atop his sturdy steed, his eyes scanning the dense forest in all directions. As he turned his horse back, he observed the line of his loyal soldiers stretching far behind him, a sea of red uniforms punctuated by the glint of armor. His gaze fell upon a sergeant, a weathered warrior with battle scars etched into his hardened face.

 "Sergeant! Select volunteers to scout the rear end and report back immediately!"

 The sergeant's face broke into a knowing grin as he eagerly accepted the Captain's order. He scanned the ranks and then pointed at two soldiers.

 "Copper! Rusty!" the sergeant barked, singling them out. "You two are with me. Prepare to scout the rear and report any findings promptly!"

III

The two soldiers, Copper and Rusty, now found themselves alone in the heart of the intimidating woods, their grip on their spears white-knuckled with tension.

 "Somethin' does not sit right," Copper said suddenly. "Why, in the name of the gods, have we come to a halt in this place?"

 Rusty, equally apprehensive, replied in a whisper,

 "Can't ye see? The company's gone astray… We've been separated from the others!"

 "This ain't good, ye know," Copper said softly, glancing downward to avoid any hidden obstacles. "This is how folks get lost, jus' like those poor souls from the fifth brigade we're meant to find. Remember what they said down at the tavern? One day they're out on patrol, same as us now, an' then... they're gone, vanishin' like shadows in the night..."

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

 Their quiet conversation abruptly ceased as they emerged into an open area within the thick woods. It was a serene, grassy clearing, untouched by the foreboding shadows of the trees. But what truly captured their attention was the striking sight in front of them. It was as if a carpet of red flowers stretched out before them, contrasting beautifully with the lush greenery.

 Rusty's eyes widened in astonishment.

 "A poppy field!"

 The young soldier carefully set down his spear and started to stride quickly towards the open field.

 "Nay, Rust! Go back and tread careful! I've no desire to make me sister a widow just yet!"

 Ignoring Copper's call, Rusty took a few more steps forward, his gaze completely captivated. Only then did he eventually turn to face his friend.

 "Worry not, me dear Copper! 'Tis only a field of poppies, and their red hue stands like our very own! Such a sight, appearin' in the midst of nowhere! Surely, it must be a sign of good fortune bestowed upon us by the gods themselves!"

 Copper, initially wary, found himself drawn to the mesmerizing beauty of the flowers. With a nod of agreement, he cautiously followed Rusty into the enchanting sea of red blooms, both soldiers basking in the unexpected wonder that had unfolded before them, their fears silenced by the enchantment of the moment.

 "These poppies are like nothin' I've ever seen before!" said Copper. "Aye, we could make a pretty penny sellin' 'em back in the village."

 "True that, Copper! And we can bring some back for our families, too. I know Rosy would care for one. She'll be overjoyed by such a gift!"

 They began to pick the red flowers, carefully placing them in a bundle to carry back with them when their mission was complete.

IV

In the middle of the poppy field, an utter silence hung in the air, broken only by the rustling of leaves and the faint hum of insects. Time itself seemed to stand still among the flowers, held in their delicate embrace. It lasted a while longer, and then, it happened.

 From the depths of the dark woods faint cries began to echo. At first distant and indistinct, they grew louder and more urgent with each passing moment. Rusty's ears perked up, and he cast a concerned glance at his partner.

 "Pray, tell me ye hear that, Copper? Or has me mind begun playin' tricks on me again?"

 Copper rose up, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the sound of the cries.

 "Oh, Rusty, if yer mind be playin' tricks, then I fear it’s started to deceive me as well..."

 He fixed his gaze with growing worry on the edge of the forest where the dense trees gave way to the clearing.

  A bird, black as midnight, soared above the tree line. Very quickly, another appeared in its path, then another, followed by more, until a vast flock darkened the sky as they all scattered in different directions. Then, out of the shadowy woods and into the open field burst forth soldiers by the dozens, their faces filled with terror as they fled from an invisible menace. They scrambled wildly, many dropping their weapons and shields in their frantic escape. Behind this fleeing tide of soldiers, flashes of bright light erupted, casting an otherworldly glow upon the scene. Within moments, these ethereal bursts became harbingers of death, their radiant glow piercing the soldiers' bodies. Across the field, blood sprayed forth like crimson rain, painting the green grass with gruesome patterns.

 Copper and Rusty knew not the nature of this malevolent force but understood the dire peril it posed. Without hesitation, they sought refuge in the tall grass, praying that the natural cover would shield them from the relentless assault of whatever lurked in the shadows.

 Among the frantic escapees, one soldier suddenly trembled uncontrollably. His legs gave way beneath him, and he collapsed to the ground in exhaustion, right beside Copper. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, a glance that revealed the soldier's identity.

 It was their sergeant, a battle-hardened warrior who had led them through the march. But now, he was a man running for his very life, much like the soldiers he had once commanded.

 As the fleeing sergeant attempted to rise from his fallen state, a sudden and inexplicable calamity befell him. It was a force unseen, a malevolence that left no mark upon the mortal realm. Copper, with a chilling realization, watched in absolute horror as this spectral force struck the sergeant.

 Four times it struck, each impact tearing through the sergeant's upper body, leaving behind gushing torrents of blood as it punctured his flesh. The once-fearsome leader, who had weathered many battles, was brought low by this unseen assailant. His body crumpled to the earth, a lifeless shell of the man he had been just moments before.

V

A shroud of eerie silence fell over the clearing. The morning mist unveiled the bodies of fallen soldiers, their lifeless forms littering the field in great disarray. Then, from the distant depths of the woods, a haunting sound pierced the stillness. It was not the cry of a wounded man, but rather the furious roar of a warrior consumed by rage.

 Rusty began to rise slightly from their concealed position amidst the tall grass. Copper's swift and urgent intervention brought him back down, the older soldier chastising him in a hushed tone for his recklessness.

 "Fool! Stay low!"

 However, their refuge was short-lived, as both Copper and Rusty were grabbed and yanked upward.

 It was none other than Captain Rowan himself, his armor now marred by grisly stains of blood. On foot and seemingly alone, the captain made his way from the forest's edge toward the clearing and their hiding place.

 "You pitiful wretches,” he hissed. “Did I lead this force to be met with spineless runners?"

 His gaze swept over Copper and Rusty, his expression demanding an answer.

 "Nay, Captain! Tell 'im, Copper!"

 "'Twas not us who fled!"

 "'T-tis the others, ye see… They left us alone."

 Captain Rowan's voice thundered with fury as he seized both Copper and Rusty in an unrelenting grip.

 "Find Lieutenant Brick and the remaining fighting force," he ordered. "Have them wait for me at the forest's edge, swords in hand, ready for battle. Or else, by the gods, I swear I'll return and bring a swift end to you all myself!"

 With a final, dismissive kick, he sent them tumbling away. Copper and Rusty scrambled to their feet and hurried to carry out their commander's orders.

VI

Captain Rowan now stood alone in the desolate grassy clearing. His heart pounded in his chest as he drew his sword, a finely crafted blade that had seen many battles. He stood tall and resolute, a lone figure amidst the carnage.

 "Come forth, foul spirits!" he shouted. "Show yourselves, if you dare! I, Rowan of Scarlet, Captain in service to the Royal Army, shall not be cowed by the likes of you!"

 As if in response to his challenge, a chilling wind swept through the clearing, rustling the grass and sending a shiver down Rowan's spine. Shadows seemed to dance on the periphery of his vision, and he knew that the specters were near.

 Soon, Rowan's heightened senses picked up the distant but unmistakable sound of approaching hoofbeats. The rhythmic clopping grew louder with each passing moment, echoing through the stillness. Rowan's heart quickened as he turned back, his eyes scanning the dimming horizon.

 Through the soft morning light, he saw a shadowy figure, a horseman, steadily and stealthily approaching. The rider's brown cloak billowed gently in the wind, but Rowan's astonishment came not from the cloak but from the face that remained uncovered. It was a face he knew all too well, one he had thought he'd never see again.

 As he drew nearer, the features of the rider became sharper, etching themselves into Rowan's memory with chilling clarity. It was a face that had haunted his dreams for years, the face of someone he had believed to be long gone, a face he had sworn never to forget.

 The rider reined in the horse, bringing it to a stop just within arm's reach of Rowan. Their eyes locked, and the recognition in those eyes was undeniable. It was as if the past had been brought back to life, a past filled with betrayal and tragedy.

 "This... this is impossible!" Rowan exclaimed, his sword trembling in his hand. "You are not real. You cannot be real. You must be a specter, a cruel trick played by the forces that haunt this place. Your very presence here, now, defies all reason!"

 The familiar face gave an unpleasant smile.

 "Every moment finds its place in the grand design of existence, Captain. Even for the dead."

 He reached up, slowly drawing back the cloak, revealing burnt, scarred skin.

 Rowan found himself once more facing his old enemy. Not a specter, but a man in flesh and blood.

 "Throughout the years, I believed you had vanished," Rowan said. "Now, it occurs to me. You were biding your time. Those missing patrols, that was your handiwork. Yet you remained in the shadows, cunning and patient, like the spider that lurks upon my chamber walls. Have I, too, been trapped in your intricate web?"

 "With every thread woven with purpose," said the rider. "And this I promise, they will all face retribution, from the King to the most common of soldiers - none shall withstand! And now, my dear Rowan, you too shall perish before me."

 He deftly turned his horse aside, making way for another figure cloaked in brown. This mysterious figure walked toward Rowan's direction, their face concealed within the shadowed depths of their hood. With deliberate, measured movements, the cloaked figure extended both hands toward the chest, its fingers interlocking in a gesture of solemn invocation. In a voice that resonated with a divine authority, it called upon the heavens, the single word it uttered carrying a weight that transcended the mortal realm.

 "L I G H T !"