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1628 G.D

I strolled through the dense forest, the crunching of leaves beneath my feet marking each deliberate step toward an open field that stretched out to meet a tranquil river. Despite the high sun casting warm rays through the trees, an unusual chill clung to the air, denying my skin the expected embrace of sunlight. As I neared the clearing, an inexplicable force halted my advance. At the woodland's edge, I paused, my gaze fixed on a lone tree adorned with vibrant green leaves. It stood distant yet captivating, a singular presence against the backdrop of nature's symphony. Suddenly, a feminine voice resonated, repeatedly calling my name. "Zarek! Master Zarek!"

My awakening came not in the enchanting realm of my dream but in the tangible reality of my room, where Eva, one of our household servants, stood at the entrance, beckoning me. A few days of intense training with my sword master, Lernarc, had left me fatigued, and Eva's urgent summons disrupted the remnants of my slumber. "Master Zarek!" she called again.

"Not a heavy sleeper, but perhaps weary," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes. Eva, a recent addition to our household, entered when I was ten, a few years older than me. Her red hair was intricately braided, and freckles adorned her green-eyed, beautiful face.

"What's the matter, Eva?" I inquired, still groggy.

"Your family awaits your presence in the dining hall. It's your farewell party before the ceremony."

"Ceremony... right," I acknowledged, sitting up and shaking off the last vestiges of sleep. "Should I bother attending? I doubt anyone will miss me."

Eva placed the clothes for the occasion on the dressing table and approached me, sunlight streaming through the window, casting a fiery glow on her hair. "Young master, your family cares for you deeply, including your parents and siblings."

"My brother, not so sure about that," I replied, recalling the change in Fabien's demeanor since our grandmother's demise.

"Regardless, you should go," Eva advised before leaving my room.

I sluggishly rose from my bed, eyeing the outfit gifted by my uncle from the elvish nation of Cartha. Standing before the mirror, I contemplated the isolation that had become my companion. In gardens and by fountains, I found solace alone, with only my sister, Anya, and my parents treating me as more than a mere shadow within the family.

"Why can't I be normal?" I sighed, reflecting on my unruly hair and the distinguishing feature—the red eyes that had become the source of my isolation.

Dressed and ready, I stepped into a hallway adorned with red hues and elegant black flower embroidery. Walking toward the dining hall, sunlight painted intricate patterns on the floor through the designed windows. The double doors bore carved images of wyverns, and with a light knock, I entered, the doors creaking slightly.

An unexpected nervousness gripped me as I approached the mahogany table where my family sat. The embroidered black wyvern cloth draped over the table heightened the formality of the gathering. I took my place beside Fabien, my father's serious gaze making me uneasy. He seemed regal, with black hair untouched by gray, while my seemingly ageless mother possessed golden eyes that sparkled with vitality.

"Good morning. Apologies for my tardiness," I greeted, head bowed.

"Tardiness is an understatement! Do you realize how long we've been waiting?" Fabien retorted, his outburst met with reproach from our father.

"Enough, Fabien! Sit!" Father commanded, attempting to quell the tension.

"Come on, dear," Mother urged Fabien. "Is this how you treat your brother on his last day with us?"

Indifferent to the farewells, I sought my father's sentiments regarding my departure and entry into the knight's order. While Fabien continued to argue, I interrupted, raising my voice, "Father!" He turned toward me, surprise etched across his face.

"

"Why can't I just stay here with you, Mother and sister? Why can't I assist Fabien when he takes over?" I sensed annoyance in his response, but I needed to understand, to find closure before my departure.

"Zarek! What kind of question is that? I thought you were smarter than this!" Despite knowing the answer, I pressed on, seeking reassurance and acknowledgment.

"Son, if you stay, it would likely lead to a power struggle for the head of our house. The nobles are not benevolent; they see youth as a vulnerability, sowing discord among you."

"I don't care about those people!"

"No! Son, you need to carve your own path. I've laid the foundation; now build on it. I don't want you living in your brother's shadow. Understand?"

"Yes, Father." His words held more weight than I anticipated, a departure from his usual interactions with my siblings.

Satisfied, I joined the farewell feast. After lunch, my sister, Anya, hugged me tightly. "Hope you come back to us soon, Zarek."

"Don't worry, Anya. I'll be back in no time," I assured her. Even my brother made a half-hearted effort, offering a wish for my success.

"What is it, Mom?" I asked as I noticed her beaming at me.

"Looking at how far you've come fills me with optimism about your future. Thank you for making it this far, Zarek."

"Couldn't have done it without you, Mother."

"Let's talk," she suggested enthusiastically, but I inadvertently mentioned we could talk the next day, unaware that my mother expected prompt compliance. She silently urged me to sit, and the conversation began.

"Zarek, do you know where you are headed?"

"Yes, Asallerolon, Mother!" I replied confidently.

"No! What order are you joining?"

"The Knight's Order of The Sacred Hand. Why are you asking me this?"

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"Because you are heading into a den of wolves. Those men are dangerous; they'll do anything to achieve victory."

"Why are you saying this, Mother? Are you trying to scare me?"

"Zarek! Get out of your head and listen. You are heading into the fire. You'll witness things you never knew existed. Be strong; the dark is rising, and creatures of the dark come with it."

My mother's seriousness resonated with me. "Understood, Mother."

"Good. When the time is right, I will send a letter. Return it to me without hesitation. There are things I want to tell you before you go."

"Why can't you tell me now?"

"Because you are young and foolish. Acquire more wisdom, and I will tell you everything."

At the edge of the training yard, my mother kissed me on the cheek. "You've come a long way, my son. You're almost as tall as your father."

"I still have a ways to go, Mother." We hugged, and she headed back inside, leaving me with a heart pounding in anticipation of the journey ahead.

"I still have a ways to go, mother." We hugged and she headed back inside, tomorrow my journey is about to start, and my heart is beating out of my chest.

My swordmaster, Lernac, stood sentinel by the weapons rack, a towering figure with muscles that rippled beneath his armor. His hair, a cascade of white, was intricately tied at the back, a testament to the discipline that echoed in the armory. A convexed nose pointed with precision, and his eyes, deep blue orbs, seemed to pierce through the veil of one's soul in moments of eye contact.

"You attended your farewell party; that's good. You never know if you'll ever get to see your family again. Cherish every moment," Lernac's words carried the weight of a seasoned warrior, a man who understood the ephemeral nature of life's moments. He was the epitome of mastery, a swordsman whose skill transcended the realms of conventional understanding. Rumors swirled that he had attained mastery in swordsmanship at an age younger than mine.

"Okay, young master, this is the last day we will be together, so you get to fight me... with a real sword." The revelation hung in the air, an electrifying charge that hinted at a departure from our usual wooden weapon duels and the mechanical rhythm of striking dummies.

"Are you sure we should fight with real weapons?" I ventured, a thread of trepidation threading through my voice.

"Master Zarek, do you not have trust in your skills?" Lernac's response resonated with unwavering confidence.

"Yes! I do, but that seems a little dangerous," my admission bore the honesty of a warrior confronting an uncharted path, the unknown dangers casting a shiver down my spine.

"Master Zarek! Put on the armor from the rack and pick any weapon of your choosing. This is your last time training with me, so I expect you to show me the results of your hard work. You're gonna need the experience where you're going."

I adorned the armor, a symphony of metal plates meticulously overlapping to shield every inch of vulnerability. Underneath, the chainmail cradled me, a resilient fortress against the impending onslaught. The weight of the armor, a tactile reminder of the gravity of the battle ahead, would have been unbearable had I not worn a padded cloak underneath.

Approaching the weapons rack, I reflected on my five years of training, the mastery achieved with two weapons: a longsword and a throwing knife. These instruments of war, extensions of my being, held the promise of victory. With throwing knives secured in straps crossing my body, I tightly gripped the longsword with both hands, a silent vow etched into the hilt.

"Zarek, are you ready?" Lernac's face bore a smile, a veneer that concealed the intensity of the impending encounter. He gestured towards a bell suspended from a rope, an arbiter of the impending clash.

"Here are your rules! When the bell drops from the rope, attack. If you hesitate, I'll make you regret it." The sinister edge to Lernac's demeanor emerged, a predator surveying its prey with a calculating gaze.

In the center of the training ground, amidst the clamor of the bell's chimes, we faced each other. The anticipatory rhythm of my heart crescendoed as the bell dropped, signaling the commencement of a visceral dance. Lernac, with the swiftness of a striking serpent, lunged towards me, his short sword a gleaming extension of his lethal intent.

A defensive stance met the onslaught, my arms reinforced with magic, blue runes weaving a protective cocoon. His strikes came with ferocity, an arcing motion that reverberated through my arms. Vulnerable, I deflected a thrust toward my stomach, a dance of blades where every move bore the weight of life and death.

Mana surged through me, empowering an offensive gambit. I parried high, then thrust, forcing Lernac to retreat, surprise etched on his face. The dance continued; throwing knives hurled in a desperate bid to maintain distance. Unbeknownst to me, Lernac's repertoire extended beyond mere swordplay—he wielded ranged magic with precision.

A battle of attrition unfolded, fire attacks dodged, but the well of Lernac's mana seemed bottomless. Seeking respite, I darted behind a pillar, breathless in the interlude.

"Think, Zarek! Think!" Amidst the echoes of my thoughts, an audacious idea emerged. A leap of faith, a smokescreen spell cast. The battlefield obscured, I sprinted toward Lernac, a phantom in the murkiness.

His silhouette emerged through the smoke, a vulnerable prey unaware of impending demise. Knives launched in succession, a swift and silent requiem. But victory, a fleeting illusion, dissolved upon the revelation—a blade to my throat.

"You lost. It was a good strategy, Master Zarek, but a good fighter sees all the flaws before executing the plan." The blade withdrew, and the reality of defeat sunk in.

"I didn't even know you could use illusion magic!" The admission hung in the air, a testament to the complexity of the enigma that was Lernac.

"You see, always think of every possibility before executing a plan." Lernac's words hung in the air, a lesson etched with the weight of experience.

I let out a disappointed sigh. "So, Lernac, have I failed?"

He stood there, a statue in contemplation, chin cradled in thought. After a while of staring into space, he gave me an answer. "No, Master Zarek, you have not. You showed me that you have an excellent mind for combat." His response, a reprieve, carried the wisdom of a mentor acknowledging the subtleties of strategy.

"Thank you, Lernac." His faith in me filled my sails with optimism as I contemplated the impending journey to the Sacred Hand Order. With his affirmation, I returned to the castle just in time for dinner, the voices of my brother and father weaving tales of harvests and profits. Although tempted to join the conversation, I knew this life was behind me, a chapter closing as I stood on the precipice of a new dawn.

My thoughts scattered as my father called my name. "Zarek! I have a gift for you!" The anticipation swelled, and two men emerged carrying chests, promising treasures yet unseen. Eager, I asked, "Can I open it now?"

"Of course! After all, it's yours."

The blacksmith's assistant handed me a key, unlocking the first chest to reveal a masterpiece of black armor. Silver dragon designs adorned the pauldrons, a cuirass that embraced me in reinforced black, bracers with silver outlines, and boots with intricate dragon motifs. My elation overflowed, and heartfelt gratitude spilled from my lips.

"Father! Thank you so much!" I expressed my joy, but he urged me to unveil the second chest. The key turned, revealing a longsword of exquisite design. The pommel shaped like a dragon and its runes etched onto the blade, ready to store magic. My father's gesture moved me deeply.

"Thank you, father. I will cherish these with my life." The chests were taken away, and my father declared, "When it dawns, your chest will be brought to the gatehouse, understood?" Excitement bubbled within me as I nodded, anticipating the adventure that awaited.

I retired to my chamber, basking in the happiness that coursed through me. As my head touched the pillow, sleep claimed me swiftly.

Abruptly, I awoke, startled by the realization that morning had arrived. Yet, something was amiss. The light filtering through my window bore an unfamiliar lightish-blue hue. Alarmed, I rushed to the window, only to find myself in an alien landscape, a world draped in snow.

In confusion, I ventured outside, hoping to find my family. The door revealed not the familiar surroundings but an expanse of snow, with a distant castle standing as a sentinel. Frustration erupted within me, and I screamed, "What is going on?"

My frantic search led me to a figure approaching. As I closed the distance, my excitement morphed into trepidation. She wore black armor, her eyes glowed red, and an aura of otherworldly beauty surrounded her. A mixture of fear and fascination rooted me in place as she approached, face to face.

My heart pounded in my chest as she held my face, her gaze piercing into my soul. No words passed her lips until, with a voice that resonated with authority, she broke the silence. "It's about time we finally met!"

Perplexed, I asked, "Who are you?" Her cryptic response lingered as she walked away, leaving me stranded in a surreal dreamscape. Desperation fueled my cry, but she paid no heed. The world around me blurred, and darkness enveloped my vision.

Suddenly, I was free-falling, light receding behind me. Panic set in as I twisted my body, realizing the imminent plunge to my demise. The ground seemed an inevitable destination, and I braced for the impact. With a jolt, I snapped awake, panting and drenched in cold sweat.