“Did you hear the news? Zarek was caught trying to escape!” one guard whispered to his comrade.”
I heard it too! They say he was taken down just as he was trying to slip out of the village,” another replied, eyes wide with disbelief.
The guards had gathered in small groups, murmuring amongst themselves. To many of them, the idea of Zarek—a boy they had always known as quiet and outcast—attempting to flee the village, especially after the death of his father, was beyond shocking.
“But that’s not all. Rumor has it, he was the last one seen with his father before he died,” the first guard continued, lowering his voice even further.
”Are you saying… Zarek killed his own father?” another guard asked, his face growing pale.
“It seems like it. The elders’ servants are saying there’s enough evidence to accuse him of the murder. It’s hard to believe, but the village is buzzing about it. Some even claim they saw Zarek sneaking around the village late at night before his father was found.”
The guard listening clenched his spear tighter. “How can that be? Zarek barely ever spoke to anyone. Why would he murder his own father?”
“I don’t know,” the first guard responded, shaking his head. “But they say the proof is undeniable. The elders have him now. They’ll get the truth out of him soon enough.”
“Poor kid,” one of the younger guards whispered, barely audible above the murmurs of his comrades. “To think I used to see him running around the village fence gathering herbs, barely noticeable, and now… now he’s accused of murder.”
Another guard nodded solemnly. “This whole situation is a mess. His father was a respected elder, and now… with Zarek caught trying to escape… it’s hard to say what comes next. Even if he didn’t do it, him trying to escape paints a different narrative”
...
Within the chamber, Zarek knelt in chains, his hands and feet bound tightly. The flickering torchlight cast dark shadows over the stone walls, and the cold air was thick with tension. Across from him stood the elder, his sharp blue eyes piercing through the gloom.
The elder’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. “Don’t concern yourself with where you are, boy,” he said coldly. “You should be more concerned with why you are here.”
The man standing beside the elder stepped forward, his face obscured by shadows. “You’ve been accused of killing your father,” he announced, his tone final, carrying the weight of judgment.
Zarek’s heart dropped, the words echoing in his mind, filling him with dread. He struggled against the chains, his voice breaking as he cried out. “I didn’t do it!” He shouted, his eyes burning with desperation as he glared at Brannik, the man who had caught him.
The woman to the elder’s left stepped forward, a cruel smile curling at her lips. Her emerald eyes gleamed in the torchlight as she began to speak, her voice filled with accusation:
“A boy running away in the dead of night,
Within him, a bundle of fright.
Caught unexpected, he struggles with might,
Why was he running, and for whom does he fight?
A father’s death, so sudden, so grim,
Yet the son departs, not caring for him.
What secrets do you harbor, what truth do you hide,
Leaving behind, in the shadows, you bide?
Your father’s end, with poison and pain,
A son’s duty neglected, is this your gain?
To flee the scene, and leave without care,
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Is this the legacy that you dare to share?”
Zarek’s breath caught in his throat, the weight of his father’s death pressing down on him. Every word felt like a blade, cutting deep into his soul. His father… gone… And now this?
“I... I didn’t do anything...” he stammered, his voice trembling.
The woman’s voice grew sharper, cutting through his words like a blade:
“Yet here you are, in chains and despair,
Your actions speak louder than the words you declare.
Why did you flee, what drove you away,
From the body of Tharion, cold and grey?
Your keys, so heavy, your burden so great,
What role did you play in sealing his fate?
The stars may demand, and the village may cry,
But only the truth can absolve this lie.”
Gathering his courage and recalling the words of Yare, Zarek replied in kind, his voice steadying with resolve:
“A shackled lad in despair,
They accuse him of fleeing without a care.
A father’s death, with poison and pain,
Meeting him after years, what did I gain?
They treat me like an outcast, no place to fit in,
The only regret, not dying with kin.
For whom did I fight, why did I leave,
Questions they ask, but they won't believe.
My father's last words, elders he named,
Each one with a debt, none left unclaimed.
I make a deal, for benefit both,
To find the truth, to honor an oath.
Hear my plea, understand my plight,
Help me clear my name, reveal the night.”
The room fell silent, the flickering torches casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. The elder and the strange woman exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from skepticism to contemplation.
The elder smirked, his tone turning mocking as he replied in a similar way:
“A boy or a devil, what fate do you see,
A deal you propose, but it won’t come free.
Your father, a cunning fox in the night,
Now trapped in his own game, without a fight.
A serpent’s wiles, a fox’s den,
A son’s plea lost among men.
The game is played, the pieces set,
Fate’s cruel hand, a devil’s debt.
The matter is tangled, beyond your hand,
You've fallen prey to a sinister plan.
In the web of vultures, you twist and turn,
The fire of deceit, let it burn and churn.”
Zarek’s hope wavered, the elder’s words twisting in his mind like a cruel joke. His fate seemed sealed, his attempts to fight back futile. The elder gave a slight nod to Brannik, who approached Zarek silently, his footsteps echoing ominously in the hall. Standing right behind Zarek, he leaned down and whispered, his voice a low, haunting rhyme as if mocking him:
“A tragic path must you walk,
They've caught you now, you must be in shock.
Your fate is determined, steel your heart,
A sacrifice you will become, you were smart.
To escape, to run, to leave this curse,
What you thought was bad might be worse.”
With a swift strike, Brannik hit Zarek hard at the back of his head. Zarek crumpled to the floor, the cold stone biting into his skin as his vision darkened. He could hear the faint murmurs of the elders above him, but their words were lost in the growing blackness that swallowed him whole.
…
Outside the village, the guards and villagers stood in stunned silence as the glowing figures grew closer, their strange light illuminating the forest edge like fireflies in the night. The tension was thick, and fear rippled through the crowd.
“Who are they?” one villager whispered, clutching their torch tightly.
“I don’t know,” another replied, voice trembling. “But they glow… like something not of this world.”
The guards atop the archery towers exchanged uneasy glances, their hands shaking as they gripped their weapons. One guard dared to speak, “Are they beasts? Why do they glow?”
“No, not beasts…” another guard muttered back. “Something much worse, perhaps.”
The five riders appeared as silhouettes in the blinding light, mounted on massive beasts with dark coats and gleaming horns. Their armor shone in the light, their identities obscured by the glowing radiance surrounding them.
“STOP!” one guard called out from the tower, his voice trembling with uncertainty. But the riders didn’t stop—they advanced, their pace steady and unrelenting.
“STOP OR WE WILL SHOOT!” a man amongst the guards threatened, his voice loud and steady.
Still, the riders ignored him, they continued pushing forward. The man lit an arrow and let it fly—a warning shot. The arrow landed at the feet of the lead rider, startling the beasts and bringing them to a halt.
The smaller rider riding in the back tightly held his reins and approached, his eyes wild and filled with malice, gripped a dagger tightly, he raised his hand. Energy crackled around him as if he was ready to unleash fury on the village.
The lead rider raised a hand, prompting the smaller man to stop. He removed his helmet, revealing a face marked by a star-shaped symbol on his forehead. His silver eyes glinted in the torchlight, his blonde hair shining in the eerie glow.
“We come with a purpose,” the man announced, his voice calm and commanding. “Stand down, and we will explain.”
Terror rippled through the crowd. Orin, standing in the front after firing the arrow, could feel his heart pounding in his chest, but he stood proud and firm and didn’t back dow. He knew what the star-shaped mark meant. He had heard the stories, but to see it in person… it filled him with dread.
The smaller rider’s eyes darted to his leader, then to the Orin, his dagger still glowing with energy. For a moment, it seemed as if the air itself had stilled, the tension so thick it was suffocating.
The villagers held their breath, unsure whether the next moment would bring peace or devastation. The torchlight flickered in the darkness, casting long, distorted shadows on the village walls, as if the very air around them was bracing for something terrible to come.