Extract from the -{ Tome of Light }- the divine scripture of the Church of Light.
"In the annals of eternity, recognize the frailty of mortal existence. Embrace the inevitability of my judgment, for I alone hold the scales of justice that weigh the faults of man against the purity of my divine light." (The Faults in Man - 3:9)
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The great forest of the Tower of Fortuna's Folly stretched endlessly, its ancient trees casting long shadows in the fading light. The air hung heavy with the scent of pine and earth, now tainted with the metallic tang of fresh blood.
"Haaah... Haaah... Haah..."
Rowan's ragged breaths echoed in the eerie silence that had fallen over the forest. His chest heaved as he faced the monstrous beast before him, his remaining arm trembling as he gripped his enchanted spear. The towering shadowstalker loomed over the lifeless body of the Eldertine stag, its massive paws leaving bloody imprints on the once-proud creature's hide.
The stag's warmth was rapidly fading, its specially bred lineage—meant to protect trading caravans—now nothing more than cooling flesh. These beasts had been nurtured to awakening, a process that stunted their growth but granted them power. Yet even that power had proven insufficient against the nightmare that now surrounded them.
Rowan's mind raced, cataloging their dire situation. Seven shadowstalkers, each awakened, led by a mutant that had surpassed its brethren. The pack leader stood at the peak of its second minor breakthrough within the first realm, a terrifying adversary that outclassed their small caravan in every way.
The beast's eyes bore into Rowan, gleaming with predatory intelligence. It seemed almost bored, as if awaiting some final, futile act of defiance. Rowan's gaze drifted to his severed arm, lying discarded nearby. If not for the sacrifice of his loyal stag, he would have lost far more than a limb to those savage jaws.
Slowly, painfully, Rowan surveyed the carnage around him. Patches of earth still smoldered from his desperate attacks, the acrid smell of burned fur hanging in the air. His gaze drifted to the wreckage of Marigold's carriage. Only two of their three stags remained standing, and even they were being overwhelmed by the relentless shadow stalkers. Their anguished bellows cut through the forest, a haunting dirge for the slaughter unfolding.
The sight made his stomach churn. The bodies of the other stag lay scattered on the blood-soaked ground along with the marigold family members, its once-proud forms now little more than mutilated husks. Limbs had been torn away, leaving gruesome stumps. Entrails spilled onto the forest floor, steam still rising from them in the cool evening air. The beasts that had been their steadfast guardians and companions now reduced to little more than carrion.
It had been an unfair fight from the start. seven awakened beasts and their mutant leader against six newly awakened beings and seven unawakened. The difference in power was insurmountable, each realm of strength an exponential leap beyond the last.
As hope drained from Rowan's eyes, even the enchanted flame coating his spear's blade seemed to dim. The massive beast, its black fur glistening with blood and saliva, advanced with terrifying patience. Rowan knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that his end was near.
Rowan's gaze drifted to the wreckage of their caravan. His brother's half-devoured corpse lay sprawled beside the overturned wagon, unseeing eyes staring at the darkening sky. Nearby, his sister-in-law's body rested against the carriage wall, her final act one of desperate protection.
A flood of memories washed over Rowan. He recalled the day his brother had first introduced him to Clair, her eyes sparkling with joy and promise. He remembered the pride in his voice when he'd asked Rowan to be his best man, and the tears of happiness they'd all shed at the wedding. The birth of the twins had been a moment of pure bliss, with Rowan swearing a solemn oath to always protect his newfound family.
Life hadn't always been kind to Rowan. He'd lost his own wife and unborn child to a plague years ago, the grief nearly destroying him. It was his brother and Clair who had pulled him back from the brink, giving him a reason to live again. The twins became the children he'd never had, their laughter healing wounds he thought would never close.
This trip was supposed to be a new beginning. Rowan had finally felt ready to move on, to perhaps find love again in the town once they returned. He'd even packed a small gift for a woman he'd been corresponding with, a delicate wooden carving he'd spent months perfecting. Now that future, like the carving, lay shattered among the wreckage.
The world began to spin as blood loss took its toll. Rowan's vision blurred, then sharpened on a small compartment built into the carriage wall. Four eyes, wide with terror and brimming with tears, stared back at him. In those innocent gazes, he saw a glimmer of hope—fragile, flickering, but not yet extinguished.
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More memories flashed through Rowan's mind, vivid despite his weakening state. He saw himself years ago, playing with his niece and nephew, regaling them with tales of heroic deeds. In their eyes, he had been invincible, a paragon of courage and strength. He remembered teaching them to fish in the clear streams near their home, showing them how to track animals in the forest, and comforting them during thunderstorms with his silly shadow puppet shows.
'Rowan the Mighty,' they had called him, a title he'd always worn with a mix of pride and humility. He'd promised them adventure, sworn to show them the wonders of the world beyond their small village. This journey was meant to be the fulfillment of that promise, a chance to broaden their horizons and create lasting memories together.
That thought, that memory of innocence and faith, ignited something within him. He couldn't falter, not while those children still believed. Not while they still needed him. He had to give them one last chance, one final heroic act to remember him by.
Rowan turned back to face the advancing shadow-stalker, his jaw set with grim determination. He closed his eyes, drawing upon reserves of strength he hadn't known he possessed. In that instant, as he stood on the precipice between life and death, Rowan's entire existence seemed to crystallize into a single, brilliant point of light.
They say the moments before death are when life shines brightest, and for Rowan, this adage rang true with startling clarity. Every memory, every emotion, every triumph and regret—all of it coalesced into a dazzling tapestry of experience. He saw himself as a young boy, full of dreams and potential. He relived the joy of his wedding day, the crushing sorrow of losing his wife and unborn child, and the redemptive love he found in his brother's family. He felt once more the small hands of his niece and nephew in his own, their eyes wide with wonder as he showed them the secrets of the forest.
All of it, every moment that had shaped him, now fueled the fire within. When his eyes snapped open, they blazed not just with fury, but with the accumulated power of a life lived fully, with love and purpose.
The enchanted spear erupted into brilliant flame, its light so intense it forced the shadow stalkers to halt their feasting and turn toward him. Even the pack leader squinted against the sudden radiance. At that moment, Rowan truly became the hero his niece and nephew had always seen him as—his life's light shining at its most brilliant in this final, light of defiance against fate.
"COME AT ME, FOUL BEAST!" Rowan's voice thundered through the clearing, a final act of defiance against the encroaching darkness. At that moment, he was every inch the hero his niece and nephew had always believed him to be.
For a heartbeat, it seemed as though his courage might turn the tide. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.
The pack leader's body began to glow with an eerie, pitch-black aura. Before Rowan could react, the beast vanished from sight. In the next instant, massive jaws materialized from Rowan's very shadow, engulfing him in an instant.
The brilliant flame that had momentarily lit up the forest was snuffed out, as swiftly and finally as a candle in a gale. With it died the last vestiges of hope in those four young eyes watching from their hidden sanctuary.
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Inside the carriage, Clover acted on instinct. He clamped one hand over his sister's eyes and the other across her mouth, stifling any sound she might make. He pulled her close, feeling her body tremble against his. Sarah's tears flowed freely, soaking through Clover's shirt as she burrowed into his chest, desperate to escape the horror of their reality.
Clover's own heart felt as though it might shatter, but the very real warmth of his sister in his arms kept him from crumbling entirely. Their mother's final lessons echoed in his mind—lock the doors, use the scent-masking cloaks, stay silent, stay hidden.
But even as he clung to these instructions, Clover knew their time was running short. The heightened senses of the awakened beasts would soon overcome their meager defenses. As if to confirm his fears, he caught the gaze of the pack leader staring directly at their hiding spot.
Ice flooded Clover's veins. He ducked down, praying he had imagined that knowing look, but deep in his heart, he knew the truth. The beast had found them.
A strange calm settled over Clover as he accepted their fate. Perhaps, he thought, it wouldn't be so bad to join their parents and uncle. But then Sarah's quiet whimpers pierced through his resignation, and a new wave of anguish washed over him.
The thought of his little sister enduring what was to come... was unbearable. His hand trembled as he reached for the small pouch their mother had entrusted to him—a final, terrible gift for an unthinkable situation.
"Sarah..." Clover's voice cracked as he spoke, causing his sister to loosen her grip and look up at him. Her eyes, normally so bright and full of life, were now red-rimmed and haunted.
Sarah's gaze followed her brother's to the two small purple pills resting in his palm. Recognition dawned in her eyes, followed by a profound sadness that no child should ever have to bear.
"I'm sorry for being so useless," Clover choked out, his hand shaking uncontrollably. He couldn't bring himself to offer the pill to his sister, the final act too horrific to contemplate.
Sarah, seeing her brother's agony, summoned a courage beyond her years. She reached out and plucked one of the pills from Clover's palm.
A bone-chilling howl shattered the moment. "RAWWWRRRRRRR!"
The carriage shook violently as something massive collided with its side. THUDD The end was near, and both siblings knew it.
Their eyes met, and a lifetime of love and shared experiences passed between them in that single glance.
"You scared?" Clover asked, a ghost of his usual teasing smile flickering across his face.
Surprise flashed through Sarah's tear-filled eyes, a tiny seed of their old dynamic taking root amidst the despair. She puffed out her chest, matching her brother's forced bravado. "You WISH!"
A low snicker escaped Clover's lips, heedless of the danger of being overheard. In that moment, nothing mattered but this final connection with his sister.
"Hehe, at the count of three then," Clover said, his voice steadier than he felt. "Three."
Sarah held her pill at the ready, a fierce determination replacing the fear in her eyes. Clover mirrored her stance, their gazes locked.
"Two."
"No cheating, okay?" Sarah's cheeky remark brought a genuine smile to Clover's face. He nodded solemnly, drinking in every detail of his sister's face.
They paused, taking in these last precious moments of life, steeling themselves for what lay beyond.
"One."
CRASHHH
HOWWWWWWLLLLLLLLL
The carriage wall exploded inward in a shower of splintered wood and twisted metal. The siblings' world dissolved into chaos, their final moment of peace shattered by the unstoppable force of nature's fury incarnate.