Agan knelt by the edge of the path, pressing his fingers into the damp earth. His mind was sharp with exhaustion and adrenaline, every sense attuned to the shadows weaving between the trees. Garik crouched beside him, silent but alert, his gaze darting between the gnarled roots and hanging vines as though any shadow might suddenly come to life.
They had been traveling northward for two days, hugging the swamp’s less-traveled trails, moving quietly in the early morning fog and lying low when the sun was high. Murkrest’s fall haunted each step, a painful echo in every whisper of wind and trickle of water. The swamp was no longer a place of safety; it was a land riddled with memories, ghosts clinging to every twisted branch and flooded path.
“Any sign of movement?” Garik asked, barely above a whisper.
Agan shook his head. “Nothing yet. But the empire’s soldiers have been spotted this far out—they’re bound to be patrolling near the northern routes.”
Garik exhaled, his jaw tightening. “We keep going, then. No good waiting for them to catch up.”
Agan nodded, glancing at Garik’s face, noticing the lines of strain etched into his features. They hadn’t truly rested since leaving Murkrest. He knew they were both running on nothing but determination and raw anger, each step driven by the need to stay alive, to resist.
The forest grew thicker as they ventured deeper, the undergrowth closing in, leaving only narrow gaps between the dense trees. It felt like the swamp itself was pressing against them, a silent reminder of the home they’d lost. As they moved, the only sounds were the quiet rustle of leaves, the occasional drip of water, and their own breathing.
After a while, Garik broke the silence, his voice low. “Do you think anyone else made it out?”
Agan hesitated, feeling the familiar weight of grief press down on him. “I don’t know. Maybe some of the villagers found a way. But… it was chaos.”
Garik nodded, his gaze distant. “It’s strange, isn’t it? A week ago, we were just kids in Murkrest. Now… now we’re the last of it.”
Agan swallowed, feeling the words settle heavily in his chest. He wanted to say something, to offer some kind of reassurance, but nothing felt right. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, a reminder of all they had lost.
They pushed onward, the path winding deeper into the swamp, each turn bringing new shadows, new scents. The air grew thick with the smell of moss and stagnant water, the trees overhead casting long, crooked shadows that twisted like the memories of Murkrest’s fallen defenders.
As they reached a clearing, Agan paused, holding up a hand to signal Garik. He scanned the area, noting the broken branches and trampled ground—a sign of recent movement. His heart quickened, and he crouched lower, motioning for Garik to do the same.
“There were people here recently,” Agan murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “Could be Free Tribes. Or it could be…”
“Empire,” Garik finished grimly.
They waited, listening, every nerve on edge. After a few tense minutes, Agan gestured for them to continue, moving cautiously through the clearing and back into the cover of the trees. But the unease stayed with him, a creeping sense that they weren’t alone.
As the sun dipped lower, casting an amber glow through the trees, they reached a dense thicket that offered some shelter. Agan gestured to Garik, who nodded, and they settled in, keeping low as they prepared a cold meal from the sparse supplies they’d managed to carry.
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Agan glanced at Garik, his friend’s face set in quiet concentration as he carefully unwrapped a small bundle of dried meat. The hunger gnawed at Agan’s stomach, but he barely felt it. His mind was elsewhere, drifting back to the faces he’d left behind, the promises he’d made to himself.
“We’ll make them pay, you know,” Agan said quietly, his gaze distant. “For everyone they took from us.”
Garik’s eyes hardened, his hand tightening around the bundle. “We will. But we have to stay smart. If we rush in… they’ll crush us.”
Agan nodded, his jaw clenched. He knew Garik was right. The empire was a force that could level villages, extinguish lives without hesitation. He’d seen it with his own eyes. But the fire in his chest, the unyielding urge to strike back, refused to be snuffed out.
They ate in silence, the weight of unspoken plans hanging between them. Agan had ideas, fragments of a path that might lead them somewhere, might give them a chance to fight back. But for now, survival was all they could manage.
As the last light faded, Agan shifted, glancing around the darkening swamp. “We should keep watch in turns. I’ll go first.”
Garik nodded, settling back against the tree trunk. “Wake me when it’s time.”
Agan sat silently, his senses alert, his eyes scanning the shadows. Every sound seemed amplified—the soft rustle of leaves, the distant croak of a swamp frog, the quiet drip of water trickling from a leaf. The darkness felt oppressive, closing in around him, pressing down like a weight on his chest.
But as he sat there, his mind drifted to the memories of Murkrest, to Tarek, Elder Saka, and every friend and family member they had lost. He could see their faces clearly, each one etched in his memory, each one a reminder of why he couldn’t let go, why he couldn’t give up.
The hours slipped by, and when he finally woke Garik for his watch, he lay down, his body aching, his mind heavy with a mixture of grief and determination. As he closed his eyes, the last thought that crossed his mind was a promise—a vow that he would not let Murkrest’s fall go unanswered.
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At dawn, Agan woke to the faint sound of footsteps. He sat up quickly, his hand reaching for his spear as he scanned the clearing. Garik was already on his feet, tense and alert, his gaze fixed on the shadows.
“Did you hear that?” Agan whispered.
Garik nodded, his expression dark. “Someone’s close. Too close.”
They stayed low, inching toward the edge of the clearing, their eyes sharp as they scanned the shadows. The footsteps grew louder, the sound of armor clinking, voices murmuring. Agan’s heart pounded as he realized who it was.
Empire soldiers.
A group of them, moving slowly, their faces hidden by helmets, their eyes scanning the swamp with an unyielding focus. Agan felt his stomach twist as he recognized the insignia on their armor—the mark of the empire’s scouts, trained to hunt down and eliminate threats in the swamp.
He exchanged a glance with Garik, his mind racing. They could try to run, slip deeper into the swamp, but the soldiers were too close, their movements precise, their attention sharp.
Agan gripped his spear, his knuckles white. “We’re going to have to fight.”
Garik nodded, his jaw clenched. “We don’t have a choice.”
They readied themselves, crouching low, every muscle tensed as they prepared for the attack. But just as Agan was about to signal to Garik, a shout rang out, one of the soldiers pointing directly at them.
“There! Over there!”
The soldiers surged forward, weapons raised, their footsteps thunderous in the silence. Agan’s heart raced as he charged, his spear aimed at the closest soldier, his movements quick but desperate.
The clash was brutal, the empire’s soldiers moving with a deadly precision that Agan and Garik struggled to match. Agan felt the jarring impact of a blade on his spear, the force nearly knocking him off balance. He swung wildly, his movements fueled by rage and fear, but he was outnumbered, his inexperience painfully obvious.
A soldier grabbed his arm, twisting it painfully behind him, and Agan felt his knees buckle as he was forced to the ground. Garik fought beside him, his face set in grim determination, but he, too, was overpowered, a soldier pinning him down.
They struggled, but the soldiers were relentless, their grips unbreakable, their faces cold and impassive. Agan felt the sharp edge of defeat settle over him, his body aching, his heart pounding as he realized the brutal truth.
They were captured.
As the soldiers dragged them to their feet, Agan’s mind raced, his thoughts a blur of anger, grief, and unyielding resolve. He locked eyes with Garik, a silent vow passing between them—a promise that, somehow, this wouldn’t be the end.