Saif had grown into a young man in his prime, his muscular body sculpted by years of hardship, and his thick, dark hair flowing with the forest breeze. Standing among the towering trees, his daily training had become a ritual. He struck the air with precision and fluidity, as if each movement told a story of internal conflict, while the sound of birdsong harmonized with his steps. At eighteen, he had become stronger and more skilled, yet the pain of the past and the hope for the future still weighed on his heart.
Saif returned with steady steps to the small hut hidden among the trees, where Serena, the woman who raised him as her son, awaited him. He saw her weary face as she lay on the bed, the years and effort etched into her features, yet her eyes still radiated love and tenderness. He approached her quietly and sat on the edge of the bed beside her.
Serena placed her hand gently on his face, her fingers tenderly touching his cheek. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him, as if she saw in him the hope she had waited for all these years.
With her warm and wise voice, she asked,
"Are you well today, my son?"
Saif looked at her with his sharp eyes, as if all his suppressed emotions melted away under her care. He placed his hand on hers and replied in a deep voice filled with respect and love,
"I am well, Mother, but my heart still yearns to return to our home... to the North."
Serena, despite her exhaustion, smiled softly at him, as if to say without words that everything would happen in its time.
"Don’t rush, Saif," she said. "One day, you will return. But always remember... you are the hope, and time will make you stronger than you think."
The hut was filled with a heavy silence, as if the whole world paused for a moment where love and optimism triumphed over the surrounding darkness.
Later, Saif went to work to support himself and Serena, becoming a source of strength rather than a burden. He joined a group of villagers heading to a nearby village, where he labored tirelessly to earn food and money, ensuring the life Serena had provided him would be secure.
Meanwhile, in the training grounds of the southern kingdom, Loris, the son of Laloris, was training with intensity and ferocity. His exercises were unlike before. Each movement was filled with power and rage, as though he bore the burden of an entire kingdom on his shoulders. It was no ordinary day—Loris felt he had grown much stronger through his relentless practice. After finishing his grueling session, he took his sword and headed to the market to observe the people's conditions.
In the bustling market, life went on as usual, but Loris’s attention was drawn to a painful scene. A cruel, overweight merchant was beating one of the boys working for him mercilessly. The boy, a slave from the North, endured the merchant’s abuse with eyes filled with fear and pain, his body trembling under the blows.
Without hesitation, Loris approached the merchant with cold eyes. In a swift and unexpected move, he drew his sword and severed the merchant’s finger. The man’s harsh scream tore through the air. Loris turned to him and said in a stern tone,
"The next time I see you oppressing the weak, I will cut off your entire hand."
The people in the market stood stunned, not expecting Loris to show such a side of himself. Everyone knew him as the king’s son, as ruthless as his father, but they had never seen such compassion from him before.
News of the incident quickly reached Laloris, who erupted in anger when he heard what had happened. He stormed into the training hall where Loris was practicing again, approaching him with heavy steps and eyes blazing with fury.
"These are our enemies!" Laloris roared. "No mercy for them. They are the ones who killed your uncle! How dare you protect one of them?"
Loris stood firm before his father, unmoved, his eyes reflecting pride and defiance. He replied in a calm yet powerful voice,
"The man being beaten was not the one who killed my uncle. You, Father, in your raging fury, rushed to judgment and killed innocents without evidence. I will not allow the weak or the poor to be harmed before my eyes, even if they are from the North."
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The hall grew heavy with silence. Laloris was unaccustomed to being challenged, especially by his own son. But this time, he realized he was facing someone with a strong will, someone who would not easily break under his wrath.
On a quiet night under a star-studded sky, Saif, the young man with dark, flowing hair, lay on his simple bed in the hut deep within the forest. His eyes were closed peacefully, but he wasn’t deeply asleep. Inside him, a whirlwind of strange dreams clashed with his reality. Suddenly, he found himself in a surreal world.
In the dream, he saw a small seed sprouting from within his chest, slowly growing into a massive tree. Its branches extended far and wide, and its leaves brushed against the sky in a breathtaking and captivating sight. Saif was stunned, marveling at this strange transformation.
He woke up suddenly, his breaths quickened and his heart pounding, unsure of what the dream meant.
Meanwhile, in the kingdom, a group of mercenaries moved silently like ghosts in the dark, sneaking through narrow alleys and silent castles. They were well-trained, knowing exactly what they were doing, and moved unnoticed. They planned to execute something dangerous, something that would change the course of events in the kingdom.
At the palace, Loris had just finished his long day of training and market visits, ready for rest. He entered his room quietly, throwing his tired body onto the bed, prepared for sleep. But before he could close his eyes, he felt something strange. Opening them, he saw a shadowy figure standing in the corner of the room, motionless and silent.
Before Loris could react or shout, the figure lunged at him quickly, pressing a deadly grip against his neck. Loris felt his body collapse under the effect of a sedative, his vision darkening as he lost consciousness.
The kidnapper, experienced and calm, hoisted Loris’s unconscious body over his shoulder. He moved cautiously, evading guards and watchful eyes. Knowing the palace layout well, he managed to escape the kingdom without anyone noticing.
On the forest path, Saif walked slowly, his body weary but his mind still preoccupied with the strange dream. As he neared his home, he spotted a cart moving slowly on the narrow dirt road. It seemed unfamiliar, surrounded by a group of men whose faces were hidden in shadows.
Saif sensed something unusual. His instincts told him something was amiss. Watching from a distance, he caught sight of something that made his heart stop for a moment. Beneath the cart’s covering, a hand emerged, limp and motionless.
Saif took a cautious step forward, trying to confirm what he saw. But the cart had already begun to move away, the men around it alert and tense. The air was thick with unease, as if something significant was about to unfold.
The mercenaries finally arrived at an abandoned hut deep in the forest. The place was completely isolated, with only the sound of the wind whistling through the trees. They moved cautiously before one of them threw Loris's unconscious body roughly to the ground. The dull thud of his body echoed, as the mercenaries stood around him, laughing.
"We’ve caught the grand prize," one of them said, while another began tying Loris tightly. These men had no honor or mercy. They were nothing more than soul hunters, willing to do anything for money.
Afterward, they sent a carrier pigeon with a message to the castle, where Laloris sat in the throne room. When the message arrived, he opened it eagerly and read the words written in dark black ink:
"Oh, tyrant, how much are you willing to pay in gold for the life of your son lying before us?"
Laloris's heart nearly exploded with anger. His fist trembled as he slowly tore the paper, then stormed into Loris's room, only to find it empty.
His anger turned into a raging storm. He shouted in his mighty voice and ordered his soldiers to spread across the entire forest, searching for his missing son. His eyes blazed with hatred and fury, unable to believe that his son had been kidnapped.
Meanwhile, Loris woke up inside the dark hut, finding himself tightly bound. His eyes scanned the room until he saw the mercenaries sitting around him, laughing and mocking him.
"This is the king’s son?" one of them said mockingly, looking at Loris with disdain. "How can someone like him become a king in the future? Hahaha!"
Another added, "He’ll be nothing but a toy in our hands."
As the cruel laughter filled the hut, suddenly, from outside the door, a terrifying sound was heard. The sound of a sword striking one of the mercenaries stationed outside, followed by the heavy thud of a body hitting the ground and the spilling of blood.
The mercenaries froze in shock, the laughter halting for a brief moment before the door burst open violently. A figure stepped into the hut with confident steps, his sword dripping with blood, and his gaze cold as ice. He didn’t give the mercenaries time to react, immediately striking them down one by one. Each blow was deadly, leaving no chance for them to fight back.
The sound of the sword was terrifying, every strike delivered with precision and lethal force, as if cutting through grass rather than human lives.
Loris sat in stunned silence, unable to comprehend the scene before him. The person who had stormed into the hut killed the mercenaries without hesitation or mercy. He was calm, unwavering, and unaffected by the blood splattering around him.
Within moments, the hut was filled with the lifeless bodies of the mercenaries. The silence returned, broken only by the deep breaths of this mysterious figure. He approached Loris calmly, cutting the ropes that bound him before extending his hand with a small, innocent smile—so out of place amid the bloody scene.
"Hello, I’m Saif," he said gently.
Saif’s voice carried an unexpected innocence, as if the person who had just slaughtered the mercenaries wasn’t the same man. His smile was calm and warm, as if what had just happened was an ordinary occurrence.
Loris looked at the young man in shock, unable to believe what he had just witnessed. How could someone be so fierce and ruthless in battle, yet so gentle and innocent in the next moment?
After ensuring the area was safe, Saif looked at Loris, who seemed exhausted and overwhelmed by what had happened. In a calm tone, he said,
"Come, I’ll take you to the hut where I live. You need rest, and in the morning, I’ll return you to your family."
With no other options, Loris followed Saif through the forest, darkness enveloping them from all sides. But Saif seemed to know every step he took, as if he had been born among these trees.
The journey was long and silent, save for the sounds of nature around them.