Ten years had passed since Roland and Brynja began their quest, and now, the next Blood Moon was just a night away. Throughout those years, Roland had traversed countless paths, consulted libraries and monasteries, always searching for answers. That night, after hours of study in an abbey, he stepped into the cold darkness with a discovery that could be key to his investigation.
He had uncovered a hidden mention, a name crossed out in an old manuscript, a name that had been nearly erased from history: Isolde. The name echoed in his mind like a whisper, and although he still did not fully understand its connection to the curse, Roland knew he was on the right track. The missing piece he had been searching for had been revealed, along with the certainty that he would soon reach the truth he had long sought.
"Isolde..." Roland murmured as he walked through the deserted streets. "If I can discover who you were and what role you played, perhaps I can stop all of this..."
But as he pondered his discovery, he did not realize that the darkness around him was coming to life. In the shadows of the alley, sinister figures moved, following his every step.
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Roland felt a shiver run down his spine when he heard a crack behind him. He quickly turned, his eyes adjusting to the dim light, and for a moment, he glimpsed several silhouettes emerging from the shadows, blocking his path. His heart began to race, like a war drum resonating in his chest. Without thinking twice, he changed direction, darting into a side alley, hoping to lose his pursuers.
But in the silence of the night, the unmistakable sound of fast, determined footsteps echoed behind him. Panic seized him. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as his mind filled with images of what could happen if he were caught. He ran with all his strength through the narrow streets, his feet pounding the cobblestones in a frantic rhythm, feeling the footsteps multiply behind him like an ominous echo. Each turn, each corner he rounded, became another trap, and he knew there was no way to stop.
The darkness seemed to come alive around him, as if the shadows themselves were complicit with his pursuers. He was just a few meters from the alley's exit when suddenly, a gigantic man appeared before him, blocking his way. His figure was imposing, and a mocking laugh echoed in the air, making him feel that his fate was sealed.
Desperate, he turned on his heels, but the air became thick and heavy, as if the world itself had turned against him. In an instant, his pursuers had already caught up to him. There was no time to think, no time to react. A sharp, forceful blow to the head plunged him into darkness.
As he fell, the world faded into a whirlwind of lights and shadows. The echo of his thoughts intertwined with a sense of abandonment, and in a split second, his mind filled with images of Brynja, of their love, and of the promise to free her soul from the curse. But darkness enveloped him, pulling him into an unfathomable abyss.
In that moment, the echo of his footsteps faded, and the cold of the night took hold of his being. The struggle extinguished, and with it, a spark of hope flickered out momentarily. What would become of him? What would happen to Brynja if he could not fulfill his mission?
However, just as silence settled, a shadow slipped through the gloom, and Roland's fate was about to take an unexpected turn. The fight was not over, and though he was unconscious, his spirit continued to cling to life, to the truth he had been seeking for so long.
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When Roland woke up, the cold, damp air of the cell enveloped him. His body was bound hand and foot to a rough wooden chair. He tried to move, but the ropes were too tight. Beside him, a guard stood silently, watching the door of the cell. The guard noticed that Roland had regained consciousness and, without a word, signalled toward the shadow of the door, where another unseen guard responded with a slight movement.
Moments later, the door creaked open and a figure slowly entered the cell. It was a tall man with gray hair and dark eyes, dressed in black robes adorned with unknown symbols. His presence radiated authority and danger. Roland watched him warily.
"You finally wake up, Roland," the man said in a cold, calculating voice. "I am Osric, the leader of the Order of the Black Cross, a secret organization in the service of the church. We have been tracking your steps for years."
Roland gritted his teeth, knowing he was in serious danger, but he tried to remain calm. "What do you want from me?"
Osric smiled with a mixture of disdain and satisfaction. "It’s not what we want from you, but what we already know about you. You have been probing into secrets that should not have been uncovered, and worse yet, you have the audacity to associate with a troll."
Roland's stomach tightened. They knew about Brynja.
"You have been judged, Roland," Osric continued, walking slowly around the chair. "Your actions have proven that you are an accomplice of the troll threat, an enemy of the divine order. And for that, you have already been condemned."
Roland swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the words. "Condemned? For what crime? I only seek the truth."
"The truth is dangerous, young Roland. It is not something everyone should know. Especially when the truth threatens the balance we have maintained for centuries. You have discovered too much, and for that, at dawn tomorrow, you will be executed. The pyre will be your fate."
Roland's blood ran cold. They were going to kill him at dawn. Everything he had done, everything he had fought to uncover, would end in just a few hours. But something inside him refused to give up. Brynja. He thought of her, of their love, of the promise to free her soul from the chains of the curse. He couldn't die now.
"And what about Isolde?" Roland asked, trying to buy time, knowing that this information could unsettle Osric. "You know so much, but I doubt you know the truth about her. What role did she play in the curse?"
Osric stopped short, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Watch your words, boy. You have touched upon a name that was meant to remain forgotten... No matter what you think you know, the truth is far beyond your grasp."
Roland realized he had struck a nerve. The name Isolde was not only key to his investigation, but it was also a threat to those who wanted to keep the curse intact.
"You have been a pawn in something much larger than you understand," Osric continued. "And tomorrow, when the sun rises, you will be eliminated, like so many others who have dared to challenge the established order."
Osric leaned closer to Roland, his dark eyes penetrating into his. "Pray for your soul, for you will not have much time left."
With those words, Osric turned and left the cell, leaving Roland with the sound of the door slamming shut behind him. The guard resumed his position, watching silently.
Roland took a deep breath, his mind racing. He had to get out of there; he had to survive to free Brynja and put an end to the curse. He gritted his teeth and looked at his bindings, searching for a way to escape. He knew time was running out, but his determination remained unwavering.
He would not die that night. Not while the truth was so close.
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At the same time that Roland fell into the hands of his captors, Brynja found herself navigating the vast and unsettling spiritual world. In this ethereal plane, where the boundaries of time and space blurred, Brynja had learned to see beyond physical reality. As her mastery of the spiritual realm grew, she discovered the luminous threads that connected people in both worlds, a web of relationships and emotions woven over time.
She could clearly see the bright bond that tied her to her family: her father Rundak and her mother Vilda shone with a constant, warm, and reassuring light. The connection to the elder Zugmar, her mentor and guide, was also evident, though more faint and tranquil, like a serene river under the moonlight. However, the bond that shone the brightest was the one that linked her to Roland. The thread that connected them glowed with an intense purple hue, vibrant and full of life, as if reflecting the depth of the feelings they both shared.
As she explored this vast spiritual tapestry, Brynja suddenly felt a change in the thread that connected her to Roland. For a brief moment, his light flickered out. Roland had lost consciousness. At first, she thought he had simply fallen asleep, but soon, as she sensed the light beginning to shine again, she felt something she had never experienced in her connection with him: terror.
The vibration emanating from the thread was frantic, as if something dark and dangerous surrounded him. Her heart raced. Roland was in danger, and she had to do something.
Without wasting any time, Brynja ran to seek out Zugmar in the physical world, momentarily breaking her spiritual connection. The elder received her in his modest cabin, his calm gaze deeply concerned as he observed the urgency on the face of his young apprentice.
"Zugmar, something terrible is happening to Roland," Brynja said, panting as she tried to explain herself. "I can feel his fear... I must find him!"
Zugmar nodded slowly. He was aware of the relationship between Brynja and Roland, and although he did not fully approve, he understood the purity of their hearts and the special bond that connected them. With quiet resignation, he accepted that nothing would stop Brynja in her quest.
"Listen closely, Brynja," Zugmar said, his voice soft but firm. "The spiritual world can show us more than what the eyes can see, but finding someone in the physical world from there is a dangerous task. However, I know how to guide you."
Brynja watched him attentively, her heart racing as she absorbed every word.
"You must follow the thread of your connection with Roland," Zugmar explained. "Pull on it gently, refine it. You will feel his essence, and if you concentrate all your will, you will be able to find him in the physical world. But be careful: the closer you get to the truth, the more resistance you will encounter."
Without hesitation, Brynja returned to the spiritual world. She closed her eyes and, just as Zugmar had instructed, began to pull on the purple thread that connected her to Roland. She felt his presence slipping through the layers of the ethereal world, getting closer to her beloved. The thread grew stronger, clearer.
However, just as she was about to locate him, a dark presence appeared in her path. The darkness was thick, tangible, as if it were trying to rip away the control she had gained. Brynja felt the air around her becoming dense, and the darkness, like an invisible beast, roared around her, trying to divert her from her goal.
The pressure was unbearable. She was about to give in when suddenly, Zugmar appeared beside her in the spiritual world, his face grave but resolute. Without hesitation, he positioned himself between Brynja and the darkness, raising a barrier of light that prevented the shadow from advancing.
"Go! Find Roland," he urged her. "Do not stop."
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"No! Zugmar, you can't...!" Brynja tried to reach for him, but the elder stopped her with a firm gaze.
"This is my destiny, Brynja. Your mission is far more important than mine. Now run... and don’t look back."
The darkness surged toward Zugmar like an unstoppable wave. Brynja, in tears, felt the thread that connected her to Roland vibrate with greater intensity. She could not allow Zugmar's sacrifice to be in vain. With one last push of will, she managed to locate Roland.
At that moment, Zugmar's light flickered out. The elder had given his life to protect her. Before disappearing completely, his voice resonated softly in the spiritual wind: "She knows you can do it. Only you can break the curse. And remember, Brynja, even if it doesn't seem like it... you have control."
Back in the physical world, Brynja opened her eyes, her heart shattered by the loss of her mentor, but her determination intact. She knew exactly where Roland was. Time was running against her, but now she was not alone. Zugmar's sacrifice would not be in vain. Brynja would fight to free Roland and break the chains that held them trapped in the curse of the Blood Moon.
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The night stretched out like a cloak of shadows, and Brynja ran with a speed and grace befitting her nature as a troll. Trolls were creatures of the night, and under its dark cover, their physical abilities multiplied. With each step, she glided between the trees as if she were part of the forest itself, almost flying among the branches and the damp leaves. Her breathing was steady and controlled as she advanced toward her destination with unstoppable urgency.
Time was her enemy. Dawn was just a few hours away, and Roland was in mortal danger. Brynja felt it with every fiber of her being, and the determination in her heart propelled each of her movements.
When she reached the outskirts of the city, the first signs of morning activity began to appear. Few people were visible on the streets at that hour: bakers heading to their ovens, some security guards patrolling, and the occasional drunk staggering back home. Brynja, hidden in the shadows, moved stealthily, her steps silent like a whisper in the wind. No one saw her, and those who did did not notice her presence.
Finally, she arrived at the house where Roland was imprisoned. At first glance, it seemed like an ordinary dwelling, but the large number of warriors guarding it indicated otherwise. Brynja, crouched in the darkness, observed each of their movements. Although she had the strength to take on two or three of those men, the number of guards made a direct assault impossible. If she wanted to save Roland, she would have to be more cunning.
Focusing on her innate abilities, Brynja called upon a silent ally. Trolls shared a deep connection with nature, and one of their gifts was the ability to communicate with the animals of the forest. She closed her eyes for a moment and whispered a request to the beings that lived nearby. Moments later, a wild boar emerged from the bushes behind the house, drawn by her call.
The boar made noise as it moved through the underbrush, grunting and stumbling over branches. The guards, alerted, turned toward the sound. One of them went to investigate, while the other stayed on watch from a distance. Brynja seized the opportunity. Like a shadow, she slipped around the side of the house and crept through a small window in the basement.
The basement was dark and damp, but what struck Brynja the most was its organization. It was not just a simple storage area; the entire space was divided into cells, a hidden prison under the guise of an ordinary home. Brynja, with the agility of a creature well-acquainted with her surroundings, moved among the beams of the ceiling, climbing silently as her eyes scanned every corner.
Finally, she saw him. Roland was bound in one of the cells, illuminated by several torches. A guard stood nearby, watching. Brynja quickly assessed the situation. The guard's position was challenging; any direct attack could raise the alarm. She couldn't take that risk.
She glanced at Roland, and in that moment, decided to use the language they had developed over the years. A system of signals using animal sounds that allowed them to communicate secretly. With a soft whisper, Brynja emitted the hoot of an owl, so delicate it seemed to come from outside. The sound of the owl had always meant “danger,” and Roland recognized it instantly.
Cautiously, Roland raised his gaze toward the beams of the ceiling. When their eyes met, a mixture of relief and hope shone on his face, although there was also a shadow of fear. Brynja, from her position, tried to reassure him with a steady look. Everything would be alright. With a series of quick gestures, Brynja indicated to Roland what he needed to do. The plan was simple: lure the guard close enough to the door so that she could act.
Roland, without wasting any time, dropped to the floor with a dull thud, causing the chair he was bound to to topple loudly. The guard, hearing the commotion, hurried to the cell, concerned that something had happened to the prisoner. Roland, gasping in feigned distress, pretended to have a seizure.
"You can't die now, boy! Not before dawn!" the guard shouted, cursing as he hurriedly opened the cell door.
Just as the guard entered, Brynja dropped down from the beams of the ceiling with the precision of a predator. She fell on the guard in a single, silent movement, knocking him out with controlled force before he could let out a single scream.
The guard's body hit the ground with a dull thud, unconscious. Brynja, not wasting any time, ran to Roland and quickly cut the ropes that bound him. As soon as he was free, they embraced for a brief second, the weight of years of struggle, fear, and hope crashing down on them.
"There's no time," Brynja whispered, pulling away as Roland nodded. They both knew that their greatest challenge was yet to come: escaping.
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Brynja knew that every second counted. Her original plan was to escape through the same way she had entered, but when she peeked through a small crack in the basement wall, she saw that everything had changed. The patrols had been reorganized, and the exit was now under constant surveillance. The situation was more dangerous than she had imagined.
"The way is blocked," she whispered, turning back to Roland with a furrowed brow.
Roland, who had already regained his strength, approached cautiously. "This house is not just any prison," he explained in a low but urgent tone. "It's the headquarters of the church's secret troll hunter organization. Osric, the leader, told me all about it... he enjoyed doing so, knowing that my execution was scheduled for dawn."
Brynja's eyes filled with a mix of horror and determination. They could not waste any more time. Roland continued, his voice pressing: "Osric is going to give a sermon to his followers before the execution. That will be our moment. When everyone is focused on him, we will have our chance to escape."
Brynja nodded, knowing it was their only option. They prepared, watching as footsteps above them moved toward the main hall. When they heard the sound of many boots stopping and Osric's deep voice beginning his speech, both of them knew the moment had come.
They silently ascended the basement stairs, making their way to the first floor. When they arrived, Brynja cautiously peeked from the shadows into the main hall. Before her eyes, she could see about thirty troll hunters, all armed to the teeth with swords, bows, arrows, and axes. They formed a semicircle around Osric, who stood in the center, proclaiming with his deep, authoritative voice.
"Today, at dawn, we will deliver divine justice," Osric declared, his voice resonating throughout the hall. "The enemy of the church will be purged for their crimes against humanity."
Fortunately, Osric could not contain himself. He was a grandiloquent
man, and as he spoke, he accompanied his words with exaggerated gestures and walked around the space in front of his followers. Often, he lost direct line of sight to the hall, which provided Brynja and Roland with the opportunity they needed.
"Now," Roland whispered, and both moved stealthily down the hallway, taking advantage of the moments when Osric had his back turned or was distracted with his gestures.
With almost millimetric precision, they managed to cross the house without being seen and reach a side door. They opened it carefully and, without making a sound, stepped out into the fresh morning air. Once outside, Brynja let out a small sigh of relief, but the danger was still not over.
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They had managed to distance themselves a few dozen meters from the house when a sound that neither of them wanted to hear shattered the stillness of the night: an alarm began to ring, loud and piercing, echoing throughout the village. Something had happened inside, perhaps the guard in the basement had been discovered, or maybe someone had noticed their escape. It didn't matter. The only certainty now was that they had to flee at full speed.
"Run!" Roland shouted, and both abandoned any attempt at stealth to launch into a frantic sprint through the streets.
The first light of dawn began to wash over the sky while the houses remained shrouded in shadows. As they ran, the first villagers began to notice their presence. Some curious eyes peeked through windows, while others stared at the scene in surprise, and gradually, fear spread among them. Behind them, the sound of horses' hooves began to resonate on the cobblestone streets. The troll hunters were already in pursuit, and they knew that if they didn't reach the forest before dawn, they would be lost.
"We have to get to the forest," Brynja said, her voice breathless as they ran. "It's our only chance."
The narrow streets of the village were a maze of alleys and turns, but Brynja and Roland ran without stopping, dodging obstacles with surprising agility. However, the sound of the horses was getting closer, and the metallic clanking of the troll hunters' armor grew louder.
It was then that Brynja saw something that could change the game: an improvised cell where a huge boar was trapped. The animal, destined to be sacrificed, was exactly what they needed. Without hesitation, Brynja ran to the cell, broke the latch with her powerful hands, and freed the boar.
The animal, confused and enraged, bolted out with tremendous strength. Brynja paused for a moment, looking into its eyes, and with a whisper in her secret tongue, she asked for its help. The boar, understanding her purpose, calmed down enough to allow her and Roland to climb onto its back.
Riding atop the powerful animal, they galloped through the narrow streets with a speed that no horse of the hunters could match. The boar zigzagged through the alleys with surprising agility for its size, while the sound of the horses fell behind.
The wind whipped against their faces as the village abruptly woke to their passage. The hunters shouted orders, but confusion and chaos reigned in the streets. After a few frantic minutes of pursuit, the forest appeared before them, its shadows promising the protection they so desperately needed.
Once among the trees, Brynja and Roland knew they would have the advantage. Nature was their ally, and in the thick of the forest, the troll hunters would have no chance of following them.
The boar safely brought them through the trees before finally stopping, panting from the effort. Brynja ran her hand along its back in gratitude before dismounting with Roland.
"Thank you," she whispered to the animal, and with a soft grunt, the boar disappeared into the underbrush, fading into the silence of the forest.
"We did it," Roland said, his voice trembling but filled with relief.
Brynja nodded, though deep inside she knew that the real fight was still yet to begin. But for now, at least, they were safe.