The village was shrouded in the shades of sun by the time he headed back home, the cold air was biting at Zarek’s skin as he sprinted through the winding paths, clutching the three heavy gold keys his father had given him. Though the keys themselves were small, they felt as though they carried the weight of entire generations—a weight Zarek had never asked for, but now could not escape.

His breath came in short bursts, misting in the night air as he ducked into the familiar darkness of his pit. It was a small, earthen place—humble, yet the only sanctuary he had ever known. The weight of his father’s words echoed in his mind, their meaning sinking into him like a blade. Zarek had never truly forgiven his father for the years of silence, the distance that had grown between them like an unspoken rift. And yet, now that his father’s end was near, the regret of that distance felt like a cruel twist of fate.

“Why now?” Zarek thought, his hand tightening around the keys. The thought gnawed at him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. His father wasn’t supposed to die—not yet. Not like this.

He moved quickly, his hands steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him. Lifting the worn leather cover, he retrieved the few belongings he had managed to hold onto over the years.

First, he reached for the large animal hide bag that had seen countless journeys through the wild. Its surface was weathered and scarred, but still strong—just like him. Carefully, Zarek packed the items he had gathered over the years: dried plants, preserved insects, unique stones, all small fragments of a world he had long been trying to understand.

His two sets of clothes were next—plain, simple, but necessary for survival. He folded them neatly, placing them atop the samples, each movement deliberate, as if organizing his belongings could somehow bring order to the chaos inside his mind.

Finally, he lifted the three gold keys. Worn and heavy, they bore the scars of time—just like the legacy they carried. Zarek fashioned a necklace from a strip of leather, threading the keys onto it with slow, measured movements. He slipped the necklace over his head, the keys resting against his chest like a silent vow, a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep.

But as the cold metal pressed into his skin, the uncertainty grew too heavy. He removed the necklace and buried it beneath the contents of his bag, tucking the keys far out of sight. For now, at least, they were safe. But safety was fleeting, and he knew it.

Zarek stood and tossed a log onto the fire pit at the center of his pit. Sparks flew as the flames roared to life, casting flickering shadows across the walls. The warmth of the fire crept over him, but it did little to ease the chill that had settled deep in his bones.

He stripped off his worn leather shoes, setting them by the fire to dry. His tunic followed, then his trousers, leaving him bare to the night’s cold air. Despite his years spent alone, the physical demands of survival had left their mark on him. His body was lean, muscled—each scar a testament to the harshness of the world he lived in.

Wrapping himself in his fur blankets, Zarek allowed himself a moment to relax. His breath steadied as he lay down, the fire crackling softly beside him. But even in the quiet of the night, the weight of what lay ahead pressed down on him, as heavy as the keys buried beneath his furs.

He had barely begun to drift off when a noise broke through the stillness—a rustling outside his pit. Zarek’s eyes snapped open, his heart hammering in his chest as he strained to hear. The sound grew louder, accompanied by the low growl of some unseen creature.

Zarek sat up, his hand reaching instinctively for his spear. But before he could grasp it, a large shadow burst through the entrance of his pit, barreling toward him with alarming speed.

His breath caught in his throat, but just as quickly as the creature appeared, it stopped—its massive frame settling over him with playful intent rather than malice.

‘What is that?’ he thought, fear creeping into his mind. ‘Could it be an animal? Or worse, a beast?’

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Without any warning, a four-legged animal entered, its shadow reflecting in the firelight. Zarek held his breath, and he instantly got up, ready to defend himself.

The creature rushed over, jumping on him before he could even point his spear, throwing him on his back into the warm embrace of his covers.

An old manly voice crackled behind the creature, sending a terrifying chill but bringing great comfort to Zarek. “That’s enough, you beast!” the voice called out.

The creature stopped licking Zarek playfully and returned to its master’s side.

Zarek exhaled in relief as the creature retreated, allowing him to sit up. He recognized the figure standing in the doorway—his Uncle Mako, a short man with a wooden leg that creaked as he moved.

Carrying something behind him, he sat down without asking for permission. Following him was a giant woman, carrying a water pouch and a big leather bag filled to the top.

‘Uncle Mako!’ Zarek thought with relief. He playfully sneered at the creature, "You are a disgrace to all beasts.” The creature ignored him, continuing to stand next to its master.

Finally, taking a good look at his guest and especially the supposed beast that had visited him, Zarek sighed a sigh of relief. “Uncle Mako, your visits are always a little unexpected.” he said.

Suddenly recalling that he was completely naked, he quickly sat down and covered himself with his blanket, feeling embarrassed.

The woman laughed heartily. “No need to be embarrassed,” she said. “I’ve seen you running around bare-bottomed since you were a child.”

Instead of her words comforting him, Zarek’s cheeks flushed red, he quickly pulled the fur blankets tighter around himself, and he stuttered, trying to think of ways to change the subject.

The lighthearted moment didn’t last long. Coming to his rescue was another figure, an old man who entered right behind them, surprising everyone.

“Enough, Yara!!” he said, addressing the woman. “No need to embarrass the young man.”

“Orin!!” Yara exclaimed before she quickly smiled and said nostalgically under her breath, “I can’t believe how fast these kids are growing up!”

Greeting each other, and feeling a little crowded, everyone took a seat near the fire, except Zarek, who remained covering his privates with the blanket while exposing his upper body.

Everyone put down what they brought next to them, and their faces turned serious. The mood shifted immediately, and the room grew tense.

Orin wasted no time. “We’ve all heard,” he said gravely, his eyes meeting Zarek’s.

Mako and Yara exchanged solemn looks, and Zarek’s stomach twisted with unease. He looked around at the gathered faces, confusion and dread mounting. “What is going on?”

Mako spoke first, his voice heavy. “Your father… Tharion… he’s dead.”

The world seemed to tilt beneath Zarek’s feet. He clutched the fur blanket tighter around him, his breath catching in his throat. “Dead??... He is Dead? How? I just met him!!”

Orin’s gaze didn’t waver. “Murdered. They found a dagger in his chest.”

Yara, her tough exterior nearly cracking, added, “They found a dagger impeded into his chest!” pausing and with a saddened face, “some are saying it’s yours!!”

The blood drained from Zarek’s face. He quickly got up not caring about those around him and began looking underneath his scrambled out of bed, tossing aside the blankets as panic took hold. “My dagger!” he exclaimed, searching desperately beneath his furs. “It’s gone!”

Yara knelt beside him, her voice soft but firm. “Someone is trying to frame you, Zarek. The village is already buzzing with rumors. We don’t have much time.”

“The stars were spotted last night,” Mako intoned, his voice as heavy as the weight of the truth he carried. “The time for the sacrifice draws near, and now... you've become the easiest target.”

Yara’s tone sharpened as she leaned closer. “Human nature is cruel, Zarek. Anyone with a sliver of wit knows you didn’t do it, but that won’t matter. People will stay silent.”

Orin’s face twisted with a grim certainty. “They won’t defend you. After all, you were the last to see him. Instead, they’ll push for your sacrifice, convinced that the old omen is rising once again to claim its due.” His laugh was hollow. “Superstitions... foolish but deadly. When fear grips the heart, it cuts deeper than any blade.”

Mako’s nod was slow and deliberate. “The sacrifice—the one that comes every 50 years—is upon us. The shooting stars were seen last night, and with them comes the storm. People are afraid, Zarek. They’ll stay quiet, lest they draw the gaze of those who would harm them... or worse.”

Zarek’s eyes darted between them, his thoughts swirling as the truth pressed down on him like a vice.

Mako’s expression grew more somber, his voice laced with caution. “It doesn’t matter whether they believe you did it or not. The whispers are spreading too quickly, and whoever is behind this... they have power. Perhaps even one of the elders. No one will dare to speak against them. Not now.”

Silence thickened around them. The weight of their words settled in Zarek’s chest like a stone sinking into deep waters. He felt the familiar cold of inevitability creep into his bones.

Without a word, he sank back down onto his bed and covered himself again, pulling his blankets around him as if they could shield him from what he now knew was coming. His heart felt as heavy as the keys hidden beneath the furs. He knew all too well where this was heading!