The cabin door burst open, letting in a blast of cold air and Kaelor, who stepped inside with a deep frown and alert eyes. Behind him came Kael, breathing hard from running, and Alden, pale and gasping, his gaze unfocused.
“Take what you need. Quickly,” Kaelor ordered, his voice low and urgent. “We have to leave. They’ll be here soon.”
Kael, still trying to catch his breath, managed to ask:
“Who were those men?”
“Galathor’s Crows,” Kaelor replied grimly. “I didn’t think they’d dare come this far south.”
Without another word, he crossed the room and disappeared through a side door, leaving the two boys alone.
Kael grabbed a cloth bag and held it out to Alden.
“Pack what you can. We’ll be fine.”
Alden stared at him in silence before giving a small nod. Kael had always been his anchor whenever fear or uncertainty threatened to overwhelm him. Today was no different.
***
In the adjoining room, Kaelor pushed aside an old trunk. Beneath it, a few loose floorboards revealed a hidden compartment. Inside, wrapped in dust and years, lay a piece of fabric that had once been fine and costly. Now it was nothing more than a faded rag—but the sigil of House Galathor was still visible on it.
Kaelor paused, staring at it with a hint of melancholy, before folding it carefully and placing it in his bag.
From the same compartment he took a small pouch filled with gold, silver, and bronze coins—years of quiet preparation for a day he had always known would come. Then he retrieved a slender, elegant dagger with an ornate hilt. Finally, he lifted a short sword, beautifully crafted, its pommel engraved with the head of a wolf. He held it for a moment, remembering the man who once carried it, then fastened it to his belt.
When he returned to the main room, the two boys were already prepared: dark cloaks, light packs, and tense expressions. Kael adjusted a knife at his belt beside his sword, while Alden struggled to do the same with his own.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“Let’s go,” Kaelor said.
The door closed behind them as the three slipped into the forest. In the distance, flames devoured the village, and the echo of galloping horses grew closer while a group of torch-bearing men approached the now-abandoned cabin.
***
At dawn, Riven rode slowly through what remained of the village. Smoke rose in gray columns from the charred ruins, and the air smelled of ash and burnt wood. Bodies lay scattered along the road among debris and collapsed homes.
His gaze landed on a small overturned wooden cart—an infant’s toy, now blackened with soot.
He stopped his horse in the central square. A subordinate approached quickly and bowed his head.
“My lord, the village is secured and fully searched,” he reported. “Some villagers escaped during the night, but most have been captured. Among the dead and the prisoners… the bearer of the Mark is not present.”
Riven exhaled slowly, frustration etched across his face.
“All of this… for nothing.”
“There is more, my lord… Garr and the three Crows who first reported seeing the bearer of the Mark were found dead. Clean sword wounds.”
Riven stared at him in silence for a few seconds, his expression shifting between disbelief and contemplation. Then he dismounted, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
“Are you telling me farmers killed Garr… and three trained Crows?”
The soldier swallowed.
“Yes, my lord.”
Riven surveyed the smoking remains of the village, lost in thought.
“They weren’t simple farmers… The Bearer of the Mark? So it was true. And he’s not alone.”
He turned to the soldier.
“Send the scouts. Split the search parties in all directions. If they escaped, I want to know where.” His voice hardened. “And remember this: if it’s him, we need him alive.”
The soldier nodded and galloped away, leaving Riven motionless, his eyes fixed on the horizon as though searching for something beyond the drifting smoke.
***
Hours later, Kaelor, Alden, and Kael reached a small clearing where a narrow stream wound between scattered stones. The murmur of running water mixed with the songs of morning birds—an unexpected moment of peace after the chaos.
Kaelor turned to them.
“We’ll rest for a bit. I don’t think they’re following.”
The boys knelt by the stream, exhausted. Alden dipped his hands into the water… then froze.
Elena’s dried blood began to dissolve into the stream.
Red fading like a memory torn loose.
Alden looked away, inhaling deeply, as though trying to release something still clawing at him from within.
Kaelor stood watch a few steps away, scanning the forest.
Kael rummaged through his bag and pulled out a piece of bread. He broke it, tossed one half to Kaelor, and handed the other to Alden.
“Eat. You’ll need it.”
Alden took the bread, but hesitated before taking a bite. He lifted his eyes toward Kaelor.
“They were after me,” he said quietly. “One of them said it. ‘Get him.’ This has to do with this mark… and the visions.”
He placed a hand on his chest.
Kael’s eyes widened in surprise.
Kaelor regarded Alden in silence before speaking firmly:
“That mark… is no ordinary mark. And yes—Galathor is searching for you because of it. But this isn’t the place to talk about it. First, you tell me what you saw.”
Alden closed his eyes briefly, brow tightening.
“Ruins… a temple… a woman I couldn’t quite see… and a voice telling me to go to Aeryndor.”
Kaelor went still for a moment, as if the name echoed from somewhere far in his memory.
“Aeryndor…” he repeated softly, almost reverently. “Then we have our destination.”
He faced the two boys.
“We head west, to the kingdom of Valdara.”
The stream shimmered with the first light of morning. The air carried the scent of wet earth… and distant ash drifting on the wind.
As the three prepared to continue their journey, the flames of their past still burned behind them, on the horizon.
And in the glow of dawn, the destiny of the Bearer of the Mark began to take shape.
Thank you for reading this chapter.As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts and impressions.
I invite you to continue on to the next chapter, and thank you for following this story.
