Eldric sat up straighter, his attention fully on June
“Your father and I used to be very close,” June continued. “But when he was fifteen, he left our family. I was only ten at the time.”
“You’re thirty years old?” Fiora blurted out, her eyes widening in surprise. “But you look so young.”
June gave her a faint smile, clearly amused. “A little perk of good genes, I suppose,” she said before continuing. “We all lived here in Aldcliff back then, and for a time, life was happy and peaceful. That changed when the war began.”
Her gaze darkened, the memories clearly painful. “Your father could have stayed to help us defend Aldcliff, but instead, he ran. He abandoned our family and joined about a hundred others who fled into the woods. I was furious. We were left to fend for ourselves.”
June paused, gathering herself. “Eventually, as I later learned, they stumbled across the ruins of Valifield. It was once a thriving village, long before your time. They restored it and made it their home. They settled down and started families. Funny enough they must have ‘Settled’ at the same time. As I understand it, you were all thirteen.” She chuckled softly.
“Did you know my mother?” Eldric asked, his voice tinged with both curiosity and hesitation.
“Yes,” June said, her expression softening. “She was a beautiful woman and a dear friend. Your father used to write me letters, telling me about life in the village. He described how peaceful it was there—a stark contrast to what we endured here. I hated him for it. I was envious of the life he had built for himself while we were left to fight and survive.”
June’s voice cracked slightly as she continued. “When you were born, he wrote me again. His letter was full of joy, and he told me how proud he was when you stood up for Fiora the day you met her. Every letter I received from him made my anger worse. I was furious that he had found peace while we struggled.”
“So why did you come to Valifield?” Fiora asked after a long pause.
June took a deep breath. “Your father sent me a letter saying he was going to start teaching Eldric to fight—more specifically, to train him in the art of Aetherguard. That told me he believed trouble was coming. I began investigating and eventually uncovered the plot to raid your village.” She paused to take a sip of water, her hands trembling slightly.
“When I found out, I ran as fast as I could, but I was too late. When I arrived and saw him lying there…” Her voice faltered, and she closed her eyes briefly before continuing. “It made my blood boil. And then I saw you, Eldric. You look so much like him at that age. It… it was overwhelming.”
“He died protecting us,” Fiora said softly, her voice filled with quiet resolve. “That has to give you some comfort.”
June nodded slowly. “Yes, he did. But if he had stayed in Aldcliff, he might have survived. He could have been here, with me.”
Fiora glanced at Eldric, then back at June. “You’re right that he was training us in Aetherguard, but we didn’t get far. We barely made it past the basics. What can you tell us about it?”
June leaned back slightly, her expression growing thoughtful. “You remember how I told you earlier about the wizards?” she began.
“There are real wizards?” Eldric interrupted, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Fiora turned to him, her face lighting up with excitement. “Yes, there are,” she said, nodding eagerly.
June took another sip of water, her gaze steady as she continued. “Yes, there are wizards, but their abilities are exceptionally rare. What most people don’t realize is that everyone—not just wizards—has the potential to control magic. However, for the vast majority of people, that ability is incredibly limited and often remains untapped.”
She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in before continuing. “One traditional practice where magic is commonly utilized is in infusing blades. While not particularly flashy, it has practical benefits. A properly infused blade becomes unbreakable. With mastery, the sword-bearer gains the ability to cut through anything and deflect nearly any attack. These are some of the finer techniques your father had intended to teach you.”
Her voice softened, tinged with regret. “But it seems he ran out of time.”
Fiora stood suddenly, walking over to the wall. She unsheathed her sword, holding it tightly in both hands. “Like this?” she asked, her voice steady as the blade began to emit a soft, ethereal glow.
Eldric’s jaw dropped. “That’s incredible!” he exclaimed, his amazement evident. “When did my dad teach you that?”
“Most nights,” Fiora replied, a faint sadness creeping into her voice. “I often couldn’t sleep, so he’d train me. But I never truly mastered anything. All I can do is make the blade glow.” She let out a disappointed sigh as the light dimmed, then slid the sword back into its sheath. Returning to her seat, she stared into the flickering fire.
Eldric sat in awe, his mind spinning with the possibilities magic might offer. His imagination ran wild for a moment before a memory surfaced—one he hadn’t fully understood before.
“Are there other ways that regular people can use magic?” he asked, leaning forward. “I mean, beyond just infusing it into weapons.”
June’s eyes narrowed slightly as she considered his question. “It’s not unheard of,” she said carefully, “but it’s highly uncommon. Why do you ask?”
Eldric hesitated, searching for the right words. “It’s… well, I don’t really know how to explain it. Something strange happened to me once—twice, actually.” He paused, glancing at Fiora before continuing. “The first time was when I stood up to the bullies in Valifield. For a brief moment, it was like I could see their moves before they made them. I knew exactly where one of them would attack, and I countered him with ease. It felt… natural.”
Fiora’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but she remained silent, listening intently.
Eldric rubbed the back of his neck, his voice quieter now. “The second time was when I was sparring with Fiora. It happened again—just for a moment. But only those two times. I have no idea what it means.”
June’s expression shifted, her brow furrowing as she touched her hand to her chin. Her gaze grew distant, as though she were piecing together a puzzle. “That does sound like magic,” she said slowly. “In fact, it sounds a lot like…” She trailed off, her voice tapering into silence.
“Like what?” Eldric asked, his curiosity piqued.
June shook her head quickly, her composure snapping back into place. “Nothing,” she said firmly. “It’s not important.”
“What about the Lunaflare flower?” Eldric asked, his tone soft but insistent. “Why is it so important? Why would someone want it so badly that they’d destroy our entire village to get it?”
June opened her mouth to respond, but Fiora jumped in, her voice tinged with excitement. “Because it can bring someone back from the brink of death and restore them to full health—in fact, even stronger than before!”
Both Eldric and June turned to look at her, surprised by her sudden outburst.
“When I was sick with my heart problem, my mom gave me some of its nectar,” Fiora continued. “It cured me in a single day. Not only that, but it also increased my physical stamina.” She paused, her expression darkening slightly. “But your father said it’s highly toxic.”
“Indeed, it is,” June cut in, her tone grave. “The Lunaflare works by allowing the cells in your body to rejuvenate rapidly. But that process puts immense stress on the body. If taken too often or in high doses, it will kill you. The body can only handle so much before it starts rejecting the flower’s properties as poison.”
Eldric’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But we were using the flower almost every day, weren’t we? Isn’t that why the pond at the hut seemed to heal us?”
June nodded, but her expression softened as she explained. “That’s different. The water diluted the flower’s toxins. It was one of the reasons Alaric was so clever to choose that hut for your training. The Lunaflare isn’t a common flower. In fact, that patch by the training hut may very well be the last in existence. By infusing the pond with its essence, your father created a way to rejuvenate you after each day’s grueling training without exposing you to the full toxicity of the flower.”
She leaned back slightly, her gaze distant as she considered her next words. “My best guess is that whoever is seeking the Lunaflare is gravely ill, perhaps even on the brink of death. They need it to restore their strength, to survive. But,” she added, her voice firm, “thankfully, the attackers didn’t get their hands on it.”
Silence settled over the group as June’s explanation hung in the air. The fire crackled softly, its warm glow casting flickering shadows on their faces.
June studied them closely, her sharp eyes moving between Eldric and Fiora as if gauging whether her words had satisfied their curiosity.
After a moment, Fiora broke the silence. “I have one last question,” she said, her voice quieter now but still resolute. “What is this war you mentioned earlier?”
“On the other side of these mountains lies the capital city of an ancient kingdom called Oaklea,” June began, her voice heavy with the weight of history. “For the past forty-three years, we’ve been locked in a deep and bloody conflict with them.”
Fiora and Eldric leaned forward, their attention riveted.
“Here in the Great Cities, we have freedom,” June continued. “The wizards who oversee our cities govern on behalf of the people. Oaklea, on the other hand, is ruled by a tyrannical king—an extremely powerful wizard. Almost ninety years ago, the most ancient of our wizards, Lord Jamdak, was a figure of great importance in Oaklea.”
June paused, taking a long sip of water. Her gaze seemed to drift, as if she were picturing the events she described. She stood, walking over to refill her cup before continuing.
“Jamdak and the king had a major falling-out,” she said, her tone tinged with gravity. “Their animosity reached a boiling point, and Jamdak betrayed the king, abandoning Oaklea for good. That’s when he and five other wizards established the Great Cities, a haven for those who supported Jamdak’s cause and sought refuge from Oaklea’s oppression.”
June turned back toward them, her expression somber. “This was a monumental event. Until that point, every known wizard had been loyal to the kingdom of Oaklea. Jamdak’s defection was a blow the king could not ignore.”
Eldric frowned, his mind racing to process the information. “So, what happened after they left?” he asked.
“Initially,” June said, “the king chose to ignore the Great Cities. Perhaps he lacked the support to raise an army in the immediate aftermath of Jamdak’s departure. For decades, we grew and thrived. But the bitter king never turned his mind from thoughts of vengeance. Over the years, he rallied enough support to form a formidable army. Then the bloodshed began.”
She returned to her seat, her movements deliberate as she settled herself.
“For the first thirty years of the war, we held our ground remarkably well. The king’s forces couldn’t breach our defenses, and his repeated failures became a source of embarrassment for him. Desperate to save face and regain momentum, the king shifted his strategy. He turned his attention to conquering other parts of the world, expanding his influence while leaving us in relative peace. For the most part, he has left us alone since then.”
“But he hasn’t forgotten us,” she added, her voice lowering ominously. “It’s clear he’s simply biding his time, consolidating power, and waiting for the perfect moment to strike again.”
A tense silence followed, broken only by the crackle of the fire.
Fiora was the first to speak. “So, why don’t the wizards just go and wipe him out?” she asked, her tone laced with confusion. “If they’re as powerful as you say, why let this drag on for so long?”
June’s lips pressed into a thin line. “The wizards do everything in their power to avoid direct involvement in warfare,” she explained. “Although they protect the cities and guide us, they’ve always maintained that their role isn’t to dominate or destroy. And…” She hesitated, choosing her next words carefully. “It’s believed by some that they fear the king’s power.”
“Fear him?” Fiora echoed, her brow furrowing. “Why would they be afraid of him if there are six of them and only one of him?”
June’s gaze grew distant again, as if weighing the wisdom of sharing more. “The king’s power is… unique,” she said finally. “No one truly understands the depths of it, not even the other wizards. They’ve never spoken of what happened between him and Jamdak all those years ago. Whatever occurred, it left an indelible mark on them.”
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Eldric shifted uncomfortably, a sense of unease creeping into his chest. “So, what does that mean for us?” he asked quietly.
“It means,” June said firmly, “that we must be prepared for whatever comes. Because when the king decides to strike again, he won’t just be coming for the wizards. He’ll come for everyone.”
“So, what about the two cloaked women?” Eldric asked, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the room. “You called them wizards. What do they have to do with any of this? Are they fighting for Oaklea?”
June’s gaze drifted into the distance, her expression pensive. “Those two are a mystery to me,” she said slowly, as if choosing her words with care. “It seems their only loyalties lie with themselves. I can’t shake the feeling that they’re the real enemy in all of this. Personally, I believe they’re the masterminds behind this war. I think they’re using it as a distraction for their own gain.”
Her words hung in the air, heavy and foreboding. Eldric and Fiora exchanged uneasy glances, each trying to digest the revelation.
After several moments of silence, June’s voice broke through their thoughts. “You two should consider joining the military,” she said, her tone firm. “Don’t make the same mistake Alaric did by running away. You have a chance to make a difference—to protect what’s left. I implore you to make this city your home.”
Eldric frowned, the weight of her words settling uncomfortably on his shoulders. He stared into the fire, the flames flickering in his eyes as he mulled it over. Finally, he spoke. “Speaking for myself, I’ll make this place my home. But I won’t join the military.”
June’s brow furrowed, and she opened her mouth to protest, but Eldric continued before she could speak. “I’m not a killer,” he said firmly, meeting her gaze.
June sighed, her disappointment evident. She turned to Fiora. “And you? I suppose you feel the same?”
Fiora nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line.
June leaned back, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I doubt there’s much more I can say to change your minds,” she said with a weary sigh. “But if you want to stay here, you’ll need to find work. This city doesn’t run on goodwill alone.”
She glanced at the two of them, her tone softening. “That’s enough questions for tonight. Get some rest.”
“Okay,” Eldric said, stifling a yawn as he pushed himself to his feet. His limbs felt heavy as he stumbled toward his bed, exhaustion from the day catching up with him.
Fiora remained seated, lost in thought. Her mind kept circling back to the field earlier that day. I can’t believe that little princess pinned me.
June’s voice pulled her back to the present. “Are you okay?”
Fiora forced a small smile. “Yeah, just tired,” she replied, yawning. She hesitated for a moment before asking, “Where does someone even start when trying to find work here?”
June regarded her thoughtfully. “Why don’t you talk to Jutta?” she suggested. “I’m sure she could use help working the fields. It won’t pay much, but it’s better than nothing.”
Fiora’s smile tightened. Just what I need… to rely on her for help. She pushed herself to her feet, her legs stiff and unsteady from sitting for so long. “Well, I’m going to bed,” she said, her tone clipped.
June watched her go, an amused glint in her eyes but said nothing.
Fiora climbed the stairs, her body aching with every step. I can’t believe that girl managed to pin me, she thought bitterly. As she flopped onto her mattress, her determination hardened. Even if I don’t join the military, I’ll keep training. I won’t let anyone make a fool of me again.
She stretched out on the bed, staring at the ceiling until sleep claimed her.
A month passed, and Fiora and Eldric fell into the rhythm of their new lives. Mornings began at four, and by sunrise, they were already in the fields. Ten grueling hours of picking and pruning stretched ahead each day, followed by a brief window of freedom.
Most afternoons, Eldric would run off with Jutta to play while Fiora returned home to train. Though her muscles ached from the day’s labor, Fiora pushed herself harder each evening, determined to improve. She couldn’t shake the image of being pinned by Jutta in the field. Meanwhile, she noticed Eldric’s growing distance from training, his focus seemingly consumed by his time with Jutta.
Fiora tried not to let it bother her, reasoning that Eldric was far too thickheaded to fall for Jutta’s playful advances. Still, a nagging unease settled in her chest whenever she saw the two of them together.
One afternoon, as they worked side by side in the fields, Jutta’s voice rang out. “Eldric, you’ve got something on your face,” she teased, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.
“Really? What is it?” Eldric asked, looking up in confusion.
“ME!” Jutta cried, tossing her tools aside. She launched herself at Eldric, wrapping her arms around his neck and brushing her nose against his with a playful nuzzle.
Fiora threw down her tools with a sharp clatter, her face flushing with anger. “Okay, this is seriously getting—”
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
The sound of the bell cut through the air, its tolling deep and resonant.
“What’s that?” Eldric asked, his voice uneasy as he pushed Jutta to the side.
Jutta’s expression turned serious in an instant, her usual cheer replaced by panic. “This isn’t good. It means we’re under attack!”
Without hesitation, she grabbed both Eldric’s and Fiora’s hands, tugging them toward the city.
“Wait! What are we supposed to do?” Eldric shouted, his voice rising in fear.
“We’re going to help, of course!” Fiora yelled back, her tone fierce.
As they approached the city gates, chaos unfolded before them. Eldric froze as memories of Valifield surged back with startling clarity. The screams of women and children, the sight of people running in terror—it was all too familiar.
But unlike Valifield, Aldcliff was prepared. Hundreds of soldiers poured into the streets, their brown leather armor reinforced with plates of steel. Blue capes, emblazoned with the sigil of the Great Cities, fluttered behind them as they rushed to defend the town.
Men and women wielding bows, swords, spears, and axes formed organized lines. The clang of steel against steel echoed through the air as defenders met the enemy with ferocious determination.
Eldric’s heart pounded as he looked to the walls. Enemy soldiers scaled them with ropes and ladders, pouring into the city like a relentless tide. The attackers wore armor similar to Aldcliff’s defenders but bore green capes adorned with an unfamiliar sigil.
“Is that… Oaklea?” Eldric asked breathlessly, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of battle.
“I don’t know,” Fiora replied, her jaw clenched as she surveyed the chaos. “But whoever they are, they’re here to destroy us.”
The three of them stood frozen for a moment, the weight of the situation pressing down on them.
“Let’s move,” Fiora said, her voice steady. “We can’t just stand here.”
The three of them weaved their way through the chaos, dodging soldiers, terrified civilians, and falling debris. The sounds of screams, clashing steel, and the tolling bell echoed in their ears, an unrelenting symphony of terror.
Abruptly, Jutta skidded to a halt, her eyes wide with horror.
“Mom!” she screamed, her voice piercing through the cacophony.
Eldric followed her gaze and froze. Marcy, standing in the middle of the chaos, dove in front of a spear to shield a small child. The spear struck her squarely in the chest, the force of the blow knocking her to the ground.
“Mom!” Jutta cried again, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face. She stood paralyzed, trembling.
Eldric felt a surge of rage boil inside him, but before he could act, Fiora grabbed both of their hands, her voice cutting through the haze.
“Let’s get to the house!” she screamed.
She pulled them forward, forcing them to move. They sprinted through the streets, dodging bodies—soldiers, civilians, and attackers alike—lying lifeless on the cobblestones. The acrid smell of smoke and blood hung in the air, suffocating and inescapable.
When they reached the house, Fiora slammed the door behind them and immediately grabbed the swords resting against the wall. She threw one to Eldric, who caught it clumsily, and strapped the other onto her back.
“Jutta, do you know how to use a sword?” Fiora asked hurriedly, her voice tight with urgency.
Jutta shook her head, her face pale and her hands trembling. “No, I’ve never used one,” she stammered.
Fiora glanced around the room, her eyes scanning for anything that might help. Her gaze landed on a carving knife in the kitchen. She snatched it up and pressed it into Jutta’s shaking hands. “Here, hold onto this,” she instructed. “Stay close to us.”
Without waiting for a reply, Fiora led them back outside into the chaos.
“Do you see June anywhere?” Fiora asked, her voice barely audible over the din of the battle.
“No, I don’t!” Eldric yelled back. “Jutta, stay next to me!”
Fiora drew her sword and charged into the fray. Her movements were swift and purposeful as she cut down attackers one by one, her blade flashing in the firelight. Eldric stood rooted to the spot, watching in amazement as she fought. She moved like a seasoned warrior, her strikes precise and unyielding.
“Look out!” Jutta screamed, snapping him out of his trance.
Before he could react, Jutta leapt toward him and shoved him to the side. Eldric stumbled, catching himself just in time to see an armored man plunge a spear into Jutta’s chest.
“No!” Eldric screamed, his voice raw with anguish.
Jutta staggered, blood bubbling from her lips as she crumpled to the ground.
Eldric fell to his knees, frozen in shock and guilt. Idiot! he berated himself. If you hadn’t let yourself get distracted…
Before he could rise, a soldier appeared seemingly out of nowhere, driving his sword into Jutta’s attacker. The man collapsed in a heap, his green cape pooling around him.
Eldric crawled to Jutta, cradling her fragile form in his arms. Blood poured from her wound, soaking through her clothes and staining his hands.
“Jutta!” he cried, his voice trembling.
Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy. She reached up weakly, her fingers brushing against his cheek.
“Eldric…” she whispered, her voice faint. “I can’t… see anything. I feel cold… Help me…”
Her hand fell from his cheek, leaving a streak of blood as her eyes closed.
“No!” Eldric screamed, clutching her tightly. Tears streamed down his face as he rocked back and forth, his grief consuming him.
“This isn’t fair!” he shouted to the heavens. His voice cracked, and he collapsed over her lifeless body, shaking with sobs.
A voice echoed in Eldric’s mind, cold and unrelenting. “You look for sympathy in a world where there is none.”
The words reverberated through him, a cruel reminder of the reality he now faced. Slowly, he lowered Jutta’s lifeless body to the ground, his hands trembling as he let her go. Tears streaked his face, but his sorrow quickly gave way to something far more potent, rage.
His muscles tightened, his fists clenched, and his breathing grew ragged. A fire ignited within him, unlike anything he had ever felt before. He could feel his heart pounding, his pulse quickening, as if his very blood demanded vengeance.
Footsteps approached from behind, pulling him from his thoughts. Spinning on his heel, Eldric unsheathed his sword in one fluid motion. The blade glowed an intense, brilliant blue, its light reflecting in his wild eyes. Without hesitation, he swung.
The soldier approaching him barely had time to react before her sword was sliced cleanly in half. Eldric’s movements were swift and feral, almost instinctual. He spun around again, the edge of his blade slicing across her chest. The soldier staggered backward, her lifeless body collapsing to the ground.
Eldric leaped to the side, narrowly dodging an attack from another enemy. The sound of a blade whistling past his ear sharpened his focus. He turned, driving his sword straight through the enemy’s chest. The man gasped, his eyes wide with shock before he crumpled to the ground.
Standing over his fallen foe, Eldric’s chest heaved with labored breaths. He looked down at the blood dripping from his glowing blade, and a strange chuckle escaped his lips.
“I will make you pay!” he shouted, his voice carrying across the battlefield.
From a distant hill overlooking the chaos, June stood frozen, her eyes scanning the scene below. The city square was a battleground, filled with smoke, fire, and the clash of steel. Amid the carnage, her gaze fell on a familiar form lying motionless on the cobblestones, Jutta.
Her throat tightened, and tears welled up in her eyes. “No,” she whispered, the word barely audible.
“Beautiful, is it not?”
The voice was soft yet chilling, and it came from behind her. June spun around, her spear at the ready. Standing just a few feet away were the two cloaked women.
The woman in white regarded her with a smug smile. “Really?” she said mockingly as the tip of June’s spear hovered inches from her hood. “You think that’s going to work?”
“Eira,” said the black-cloaked woman, her tone dripping with amusement, “this one has spirit. Perhaps you should teach her a lesson.”
“Syra,” Eira replied with a chuckle, “perhaps you’re right. It seems she’s forgotten her place.”
June’s grip on her spear tightened, her knuckles white. “Is this your doing?” she demanded, her voice shaking with both fury and fear.
Eira stepped forward, her movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. “Dear me, no,” she said, her words laced with mockery. She gestured toward the battlefield with a gloved hand. “Can’t you see? Those soldiers wear the mark of Oaklea.”
Syra let out a low, menacing laugh. “Of course,” she added, “that doesn’t mean we didn’t have a hand in it.”
June’s stomach churned. “Why? What do you want?”
Eira turned to face her, a wicked glint in her eye. “It is all necessary,” she said, her voice calm and measured, as if explaining a simple truth. “This chaos, this bloodshed—it’s all part of a greater plan. And this time…” She paused, her lips curling into a sinister smile. “We seem to have succeeded.”
“Yes, we seem to have been successful,” Syra replied, her voice calm and sinister. She pushed June’s spear away with ease and stepped past her to stand beside Eira. “Last time, I thought we might fail. He seemed so weak, so fragile. But now… Now he shows a spark. A thirst for revenge. A will to fight.”
“What do you mean?” June stammered, her voice trembling. “Who are you talking about? You don’t mean… Eldric?”
Eira turned to face her, a knowing smile spreading across her lips. “You are a clever girl. Yes, we need him.”
“Why?” June demanded, her voice breaking. “Why kill so many people just to provoke him? He’s only thirteen!”
“You couldn’t possibly begin to comprehend our reasons,” Syra said coldly. “We need him. The world needs him. This time, we will not fail.”
June’s grip on her spear faltered as she tried to process their words. She stared at Syra, her mind racing. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Syra slowly reached up and grasped the edges of her black hood. With deliberate movements, she pulled it back to reveal her face.
June staggered backward, her spear slipping from her grasp and clattering to the ground. Her eyes widened in disbelief, and tears streaked her face.
“No… No, this can’t be,” she stammered. “Why? Why would you do this? It makes no sense! Why?”
Syra’s expression remained unreadable. “The reason is beyond your understanding. It does not concern you.”
Eira stepped forward, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “You are in the way,” she said harshly, drawing her sword.
Before June could react, Eira lunged. The blade sliced cleanly across her knees, sending her collapsing to the ground with a cry of pain.
“We will use him for our purposes,” Eira said coldly, standing over June. “You have no say in the matter.”
June looked up at them desperately, her body trembling as her life drained away. Eira and Syra stared down at her with unfeeling eyes, their faces devoid of remorse.
“It’s okay, June,” Eira said softly, her tone almost mocking. “Just let go and leave the rest to us.”
With those final words, Eira delivered the killing blow. Blood stained the grass beneath June’s lifeless body as the two cloaked women pulled their hoods back over their heads. Without another word, they turned and vanished.
Eldric twisted and turned, dodging strike after strike as he fought his way through the battlefield. The glow of his sword illuminated his face, his movements sharp and precise. In a fleeting moment, his gaze was drawn up to the hill beyond the city square.
There, silhouetted against the smoke and fire, stood the two cloaked women. Their hoods were down, revealing their faces. Eldric’s heart raced as he strained to make out their features, but the distance and haze blurred them.
Distracted, he barely dodged the next attack, twisting his blade to dispatch his opponent with a swift and final strike. He turned back to the hill, but the figures were gone.
Without hesitation, Eldric ran toward the hilltop. His breath came in ragged gasps as he climbed the slope. When he reached the top, his heart sank.
“June!” he cried, falling to his knees beside her lifeless body.
Moments later, Fiora appeared at his side, having followed his anguished cry. She knelt beside June, her fingers trembling as she checked for a pulse.
“Dead,” she murmured, her voice heavy with sorrow.
She looked at Eldric, her face etched with pain. “What about Jutta?”
Eldric doubled over, sobbing uncontrollably. His grief was answer enough. Fiora swallowed hard, her heart aching for him, but she said nothing.
Eldric’s cries eventually quieted, replaced by a seething rage. He stood, his fists clenched, and his eyes burned with determination.
“I’m joining the army,” he declared, his voice low and resolute. “We will find out who those women are, and we will kill them.”
He turned to Fiora, his expression softening for just a moment. “I’m tired of losing the people I care about. I can’t lose anyone else…” His voice cracked. “Especially not you.”
He extended his hand to her. Fiora hesitated, then placed her hand in his.
“Then we’ll do it together,” she said firmly, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.