The warmth of the fire barely touched the icy dread gnawing at Zarek’s heart as he stepped into his father’s house. The familiar scent of burning wood mingled with the cold, musty air, failing to dispel the chill that clung to him like a second skin. His thoughts were a tangled mess, frayed and scattered, as he tried to reconcile the past with the present. It had been six long years since he last saw his father, right after the agonizing death of his mother.
The wooden walls, adorned with relics and symbols of their lineage, loomed over him like silent judges. Each piece was a reminder of the bloodline he was born into, yet now, they seemed to mock him, as if to say he no longer belonged here. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a stranger’s domain—familiar yet alien, filled with memories that were both cherished and cursed.
On a fur bed lay the man who had once been a towering figure in Zarek’s life. His father’s once robust frame had withered away, leaving behind a frail, ghostly figure. Beside him stood Nara, his father's wife, and Elder Varek, her father. Their faces were masks of concern, but Zarek could see the undercurrents of ambition and calculation swirling beneath their expressions, like predators biding their time.
Disgust and unease coiled in Zarek’s gut as he looked at them. 'These are the ones who replaced us,' he thought bitterly. 'This is the family he chose over us.'
“Zarek, you’ve come at last,” Nara began, her voice a soft murmur that barely rose above the crackling fire, yet carried an unsettling undertone. “It’s been so long since we last saw you, but that isn’t what matters now. There’s something far more urgent that you must know.”
Zarek approached cautiously, the tension in the room thickening with every step. His eyes flicked between his stepmother and her father, both of whom seemed to exude a coldness that made his skin crawl. “What is it?” he asked, his voice steady despite the unease creeping into his bones.
Nara’s eyes gleamed with a mix of urgency and something darker—something that sent a shiver down Zarek’s spine. “The council is considering a sacrifice,” she said, her words like the hiss of a serpent. “They believe you might be a suitable candidate. Your birth under a bad omen has put you at great risk. You must be careful, Zarek. Very careful.”
Zarek nodded slowly, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He knew better than to trust these people. Beneath his calm exterior, a storm of anger and disbelief churned. 'As if isolating me wasn’t enough. Now they want to sacrifice me?'
Varek, his blind eyes unseeing yet strangely penetrating, nodded in agreement. “In life, one does not choose their destiny, nor how they are brought into this world. One must live with no regrets,” he intoned, his voice carrying the weight of a truth that felt more like a noose tightening around Zarek’s neck.
A stirring came from the bed as Tharion, Zarek’s father, struggled to sit up despite the pain etched across his face. “Leave us,” he commanded weakly, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet full of authority. “I need to speak to my son alone.”
Nara and Varek exchanged glances—glances filled with the silent communication of those who have conspired together for far too long. Their pride was clearly stung by the dismissal, but they complied, stepping out of the cabin. As the door closed behind them, the atmosphere in the room shifted, the tension giving way to an oppressive silence that bore down on Zarek like a physical weight.
“Zarek, Time is brutal,” Tharion began, his voice rasping like the dry whisper of autumn leaves. He reached beneath the furs and pulled out three heavy, worn-out gold keys. “These keys represent the three guardians of our family. They are not of great material value, but they are our legacy, passed down through generations.”
Zarek took the keys in silence, their weight feeling almost insignificant in his hand, yet laden with the burden of his family’s history. “Why are you handing me this now, Father?”
Tharion's eyes softened, a flicker of regret crossing his weathered face. “Death is fast approaching,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a resignation that sent a chill down Zarek’s spine. “Son, death is the shadow that follows us all, always closer than we realize. Time slips through our fingers, but in the end, it’s not the years that matter—it’s how we choose to live before the shadow catches us.”
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He paused, drawing a shaky breath that seemed to rattle in his chest. “The day you were born, a stream of shooting stars crossed the sky. The elders saw it as a bad omen and wanted to sacrifice you that very night, but I refused to bend down to those superstitions.” Raising his hands as if grasping something, he continued “I called in nearly all the favors our family was owed, and they relented. Not because they were kind, it was because no one from above came!!”
Remaining quiet, Zarek just sat down and watched his father, he honestly held a grudge against him for throwing him away, for banishing him from his home. Yet, meeting his father after many years, it felt like nothing has changed, his father was still the same. His thoughts drifted, yet they were quickly brought back.
A story he had never heard, an explaining for most of his misfortune was being revealed.
The room was thick with the heavy scent of smoke and old memories, the dying fire casting a weak, flickering glow on the stone walls. Zarek stood at the foot of his father’s bed, every muscle tense, a storm of emotions boiling beneath his calm exterior.
He felt as if the world was closing in on him—crushing him beneath the weight of revelations he hadn’t been ready to hear. His father’s voice, frail and broken, hung in the air like the ghost of a once-mighty king.
“Your mother and I,” Tharion mumbled, his voice trembling with the weight of long-buried grief, “we tried, Zarek. We tried to bring more children into this world, hoping they would succeed where I failed. But the stars… the stars were cruel. Each child we brought into this world died within days, and the last… the last took your mother with her.”
The silence that followed was suffocating, like the calm before a storm that could destroy everything. Zarek’s chest tightened as he fought to breathe, to comprehend the depth of his father’s sorrow. The years of distance between them now seemed like an impenetrable chasm, one Zarek could never cross. His father had been lost to him long before today.
Tharion coughed, the sound rattling in his chest like dry leaves in the wind. When he pulled his hand away from his mouth, it was stained with blood. A bitter smile crept across his lips. “Our world was once a paradise,” he whispered, his eyes distant, lost in memories of a time Zarek could only imagine. “People lived long, prosperous lives, but we angered the stars. And in a single day, everything was destroyed. Only the Titans’ sacrifice saved us from total ruin.”
Zarek’s heart pounded in his chest. He had heard this tale a hundred times, perhaps a thousand, but this time it was different. This time, it felt more like a warning than a legend.
Tharion's voice grew quieter, as though the secrets of the past weighed on him like chains. “The animals, they were cursed too—granted the power to evolve, while we were left to freeze in the eternal cold. But as I grow older, Zarek, I find myself doubting the truth of it all. What if the stars didn’t curse us? What if we cursed ourselves?”
Zarek clenched his fists at his sides, his mind racing. He needed answers, not riddles. “What do I need to do?” he asked, his voice hard and steady.
Tharion’s hand tightened on the coarse blankets, his knuckles turning white with effort. “You must leave the village, my son,” he said, each word laced with urgency. “You must escape before it’s too late. The others will come for you when I am gone. You must be gone before that happens.” Pausing, he remained quiet for a short while as if contemplating something, “There are forces at work beyond this village—forces you cannot yet understand. Outsiders… they will come. And when they do, they will bring with them misfortune and misery.”
He looked Into Zarek’s eyes, his gaze piercing, filled with the weight of a father’s final plea. “Take what you need and go. Seek the world beyond our borders. Accomplish what I could not.” His breath grew labored, his coughs more violent than before. “The spear,” he rasped, nodding weakly to the corner of the room where a finely crafted weapon leaned against the wall. “Take it. It’s yours now. It’s your inheritance—your legacy. Use it well, and honor yourself.”
Zarek reached for the spear, his hands trembling as he gripped the cool metal. It felt heavier than he expected—heavier not just in weight, but in the burden it now symbolized. His father’s life was slipping away before his eyes, but the future stretched before him like an endless, unforgiving road.
Tharion coughed again, his voice barely a whisper now. “Your mother… your mother believed in you. She named you Zarek, hoping you would shine brighter than any star in the sky. She believed you were destined for greatness. Prove her right, my son. Prove us both right.”
Zarek swallowed hard, his throat tight with concealed emotions. He knew this would likely be the last time he would see his father alive. The cold air outside the home was a bitter contrast to the warmth of the dying fire, a reminder of the harshness that awaited him beyond the village walls.
“I don’t believe in the stars,” Zarek said, having finally gathered his courage to speak, yet his voice was low and unsteady.
Tharion smiled, his hand slipped from the blanket, his strength gone, his eyes half-closed as he drifted into darkness. “Go, Zarek,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Go… and claim the world as if it’s yours.”
With a heavy heart and the weight of his father’s words on his shoulders, Zarek turned and stepped out into the biting cold. The wind howled in his ears as he gripped the spear tightly, the first step of his journey heavy with the knowledge that from this moment on, he was truly alone.