《Arcastra》 1. An interesting proposition(Rouis) The dilapidated building seemed to stand upright out of sheer defiance, a precarious assembly of blackened planks and reddish stones. The walls, eaten away by fungi and invasive mold, allowed the wind to whistle through gaping cracks. The door creaked as it opened, revealing a suffocating and dim interior. The air, heavy with the rancid smell of beer and sweat, clung to the nostrils like an invisible threat. Beneath his boots, a floor of packed dirt mixed with filthy straw crunched softly, littered with debris and dried mud stains. Wobbly tables and benches, stained and poorly crafted, were scattered in a nearly chaotic disarray. On the walls, only a few tanned hides broke the grimy emptiness, while flickering candles and smoky torches cast dancing shadows like specters. Behind a soiled counter, a stocky old man watched with his gaze lowered. The innkeeper looked as worn as the establishment he inhabited. ¡ª ¡°Do you have the coin, Rouis?¡± Barca asked, his tone shakier than he had intended. His hand gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles whitening under the strain, as though seeking support to keep himself steady. A drop of sweat, cold despite the stifling heat of the room, slid down his spine. With a sudden movement, he grabbed a bottle from the shelf. The glass clattered against the wooden counter, releasing a splash of brown liquid that pooled into a sticky puddle, emitting an acrid smell. Barca carefully avoided Rouis¡¯s gaze, fixing his eyes instead on the puddle as if it held an escape route. ¡ª ¡°Drink it and go¡­¡± Rouis, unperturbed, took the glass between his fingers and slowly swirled it. A thin, sharp smile stretched across his lips. He raised the glass to his mouth and drank it down in one gulp, his expression unwavering, the bitterness of the alcohol drawing barely a furrow of his brow. Barca, on the other hand, trembled. His sweaty hands nervously grazed the bottles within his reach, searching for something to do. Rouis tilted his head slightly, his eyes fixed on the innkeeper¡¯s. He let the silence settle, sharp as a blade hanging over its prey. ¡ª ¡°Thanks for the drink,¡± he finally murmured. The tone, light and almost friendly, sent a chill through Barca greater than any explicit threat could have. Rouis straightened up, his imposing silhouette casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the old man¡¯s. With a mocking smile, he turned on his heels. Barely out of the bar, Rouis felt the darkness envelop him like a damp, icy cloak. Every uneven cobblestone under his boots seemed to conspire against him, their grime-slick surfaces faintly reflecting the sparse flickers of light. The air, heavy with the stench of rot and spoiled meat, clawed at his lungs, thick and suffocating. In the corners, mounds of refuse shifted imperceptibly, revealing massive rats whose robust bodies slid through the debris with unsettling ease. One paused briefly, its red eyes gleaming in the gloom, before vanishing into a crack in the wall. The facades of the buildings oozed with moisture, rivulets of filth tracing erratic paths down the blackened stones. Through gaping windows, flickering shadows hinted at deserted interiors haunted by silence. The wind whistled, making the rusted signs of abandoned shops creak. Tattered clothes hanging from sagging lines flapped feebly, like flags of surrender in this forsaken quarter. Farther ahead, dingy taverns opened their black mouths, swallowing staggering figures without question. Rouis moved forward, his eyes scanning the deserted alleys. His hand, almost instinctively, brushed the hilt of his sword¡ªa reassuring gesture amid the familiar chaos. Suddenly, at the corner of a narrow street, a shadow slipped by, swift and elusive. He slowed, his muscles tensing slightly. In this part of town, real danger never announced itself¡ªit waited in silence. A faint, flickering light, barely visible through a broken window, caught Rouis¡¯s attention. It danced in his memory for a moment, rekindling an image he hadn¡¯t summoned in years. ¡ª ¨¦milie¡­ His little sister twirled around candles, her bare feet skimming the floor with the effortless grace of a carefree child. Her hands, smeared with wax, flitted through the air as she laughed at her own wonder. The flames danced with her, casting shadows that seemed to breathe life into the walls of their home. Their mother, sitting nearby, would burst into that crystalline laughter capable of dispelling even the heaviest clouds. Her eyes shone with a brilliance Rouis had never seen elsewhere, a mix of strength and tenderness that could transform an ordinary moment into an unforgettable memory. A fleeting but painful warmth surged through his chest. That memory, so sweet, belonged to a world he no longer recognized. The darkness of the alleys seemed to press in around him, but he clung to the memory, like a shipwrecked man clutching a lifeline. ¡ª Why did I let that light fade? he wondered briefly, before shaking the thought away. The night did not forgive distractions. His still-numb legs pulled him back to the present. He moved forward, but a cold sweat traced a line down his spine, sticking his coat to his skin. Each step seemed louder than the last, amplified by the silence that wrapped itself around the place. Rouis scanned his surroundings, his eyes skimming over grimy walls and boarded-up windows. Nothing. Not a shadow, not a movement. Yet the feeling, that creeping sensation of being watched, intensified, seeping into his mind like a wave of black ink. He quickened his pace slightly, his senses sharpened to the edge. At the entrance of a narrower alley, he hesitated. The space was so confined that the walls, oozing with damp and mold, seemed ready to close in on him. A sliver of sky, barely visible, traced a pale fissure through the darkness. He stepped into the oppressive corridor, each step an effort. The facades, covered in crumbling plaster and rotting wood, emitted an acrid stench that clung to his throat. The windows, barricaded with nailed planks, stared back at him like empty sockets. No place to hide, no alcove to pause. Everything here was exposed, as though the alley itself was daring him to continue. The few abandoned storefronts, their signs eaten away by mold, resembled carcasses, locked in a state of eternal decay. A sudden crack broke the silence. Rouis froze, his breath shallow, his gaze sweeping through the shifting shadows. Nothing. But his heart pounded in his chest like a frenzied drum. Something was there¡ªhe could feel it¡ªlurking in the darkness, waiting for its moment. ¡ª "I know you''re there!" Rouis shouted, his voice echoing faintly before being swallowed by the thick, eerie silence. The mist came without warning, as if the ground itself had exhaled a foul breath. It erupted suddenly, spreading in a dense, shifting veil that swallowed everything in its path. The air grew heavy with an acrid, stagnant smell, reminiscent of a cellar where mold and decay had long taken hold. Each breath felt heavier than the last, filling his lungs with a sticky sensation and leaving a metallic taste lingering at the back of his throat. It slithered along the ground, sinuous, coiling around his boots and climbing in thick tendrils up his legs. It wasn¡¯t still; it moved, undulated, pressed against him, then withdrew, as if it were alive¡ªcurious or malevolent. At moments, he thought he felt a faint pressure against his skin, a cold, damp caress that vanished as quickly as it came. Rouis tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. Around him, the mist seemed to devour everything¡ªthe ground, the walls, even the sky. Every contour was swallowed by the shifting whiteness, leaving behind an oppressive void. He tried to orient himself, but every direction looked the same, as though this sea of fog was intent on engulfing him. A cold sweat slid down his neck. He didn¡¯t move, but a shiver ran down his spine. Then came the sounds. At first barely audible, almost like whispers, then clearer: footsteps. Heavy. Slow. Uneven. They echoed faintly, as if from some distant place, but the thick air seemed to draw them closer with each passing moment. The uncertain rhythm of the steps heightened his unease¡ªa tempo too erratic to belong to anything truly alive. Rouis drew his sword in a swift motion, the blade hissing sharply before sinking into the silent embrace of the mist. He stood ready, weapon raised, but a fleeting thought crossed his mind: this mist wasn¡¯t just an obstacle. It was aware, almost watchful. It encircled him like a predator toying with its prey, seeking to cloud his senses. At the edge of his vision, he thought he saw something move¡ªa shadow, or perhaps a form even darker than the mist itself. But every time he tried to focus on the movement, it vanished, swallowed by the white expanse. Was it his imagination, or was the mist deliberately deceiving him? He remained still, his muscles taut, as the air around him seemed to grow heavier. It felt suffocating, not from a lack of oxygen, but from the oppressive weight of this malevolent atmosphere. Yet he refused to move further, his senses sharpened to their limit, waiting for the slightest sign. Something was approaching, and he knew he wouldn¡¯t be alone for much longer. At last, a silhouette emerged. At first blurry, it gradually grew sharper, its contours cutting through the shifting haze. A hunched old man, dressed in a black top hat, advanced with a slow but deliberate stride. His movements were so measured they seemed almost calculated, and his face, etched with deep wrinkles, bore gray spots that appeared and vanished with the flicker of the shadows. Morven. ¡ª "I¡¯ve been looking for you, Mr. Rouis," said Morven, his voice smooth and devoid of warmth. His gaze locked onto Rouis¡¯s, but it wasn¡¯t just a simple exchange of looks. It felt probing, as though Morven were digging into something deeper, rifling through his very thoughts. Rouis felt a tension building in his chest, the unsettling sensation of being examined from within, but he betrayed nothing. ¡ª "You¡¯re lucky to meet me in the flesh," he retorted with a light, almost mocking smile. Yet the faint tightening of his fingers around the hilt of his sword betrayed his heightened alertness. ¡ª "I need you for a mission," Morven said, his voice resonating through the mist. There was something hypnotic about his tone¡ªa softness, almost musical, each word rolling off his tongue with a captivating fluidity. Yet beneath that perfection lurked a subtle discord, an imperceptible tremor or strange resonance that sent a shiver through Rouis. It wasn¡¯t a natural voice; it felt crafted, engineered, like an auditory mask meant to charm or manipulate. And yet, something was off¡ªan anomaly, difficult to pinpoint but impossible to ignore. Morven tilted his head slightly, a movement of mechanical precision, almost too fluid to seem natural. Then, without a word, he turned slightly, revealing another figure in the mist. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.Draxis. The albino giant stepped forward with a heavy tread. Each step landed with a faint resonance, absorbed by the thick, shifting air. His massive form seemed to emerge from the mist itself, a spectral figure in the endless whiteness. His skin, so pale it was nearly translucent, reflected the last traces of light, giving him the appearance of a statue carved from living marble¡ªsmooth, yet deeply fissured. The scars crisscrossing his face etched irregular, unsettling lines, as if some cruel artist had tried to reshape him, only to abandon the work in a fit of senseless rage. His lips, stitched shut with thick black threads, formed a grotesque and unmoving line¡ªa mask of silence betraying no words, no emotion. But it was his eyes that captivated. Bright and unblinking, they seemed to absorb everything: the light, Rouis¡¯s gaze, and perhaps even a piece of his confidence. Those narrow sockets radiated a cold, disarming intensity, like a void pulling in any attempt to understand. Rouis turned his eyes away, more out of survival instinct than conscious choice. Draxis didn¡¯t utter a word. He extended a massive hand, gnarled and rough, as if carved from ancient bark. With a slow but precise motion, he tossed a leather pouch. The dull thud it made upon landing in Rouis¡¯s hands echoed faintly, stretching unnaturally, the sound reverberating in the air like something unreal. The pouch¡¯s leather, cracked and worn, bore the scars of a long journey or many trials. A faint scent of heated metal and damp earth wafted from it. Rouis opened it. A golden glow spilled out, briefly dancing across his tense features. The coins inside, radiant and pristine, gleamed with an intensity that seemed too perfect, almost unreal in the suffocating gloom. ¡ª "Consider this an advance," Morven said, his voice smooth as velvet. "You¡¯ll receive three more once the mission is complete." This time, his tone slipped into Rouis¡¯s ears with a silkiness that sent a shiver down his spine. Yet it left behind a strange sensation, like a dissonant note hidden within an otherwise flawless melody. The echo of his words lingered in the air, swirling with the mist. ¡ª "I accept," Rouis replied firmly, though his thoughts remained alert, swirling as restlessly as the mist around him. Morven inclined his head again, the gesture as precise and identical as before. The repetition, almost unnaturally perfect, carried an enigmatic weight, like a puzzle with no solution. Without another word, he turned away. His movement was so fluid it seemed as though he floated, as if the laws of physics held little sway over him. Draxis followed, his immense bulk advancing with a measured slowness, each step leaving a vibrant imprint in the air, like an echo etched into the mist. The mist came alive immediately. It didn¡¯t just surround them¡ªit embraced them, coiling around their figures with deliberate slowness, almost lovingly. Each wisp seemed to caress, test, before fully enveloping them. As it thickened, their outlines blurred, dissolving into this spectral shroud. It was like watching a canvas fade, its lines vanishing under an invisible, silent rain. Morven disappeared first, his body fading gently, as though drawn into an unseen abyss. Draxis, larger and more imposing, lingered a moment longer, his shadow defying the mist until the very end. Then, only his eyes remained¡ªtwo glowing points, suspended in the air like isolated beacons. They flickered faintly, seeming to regard Rouis one last time, before extinguishing, swallowed by the void. The mist closed over them with a solemn slowness, like the waters of a lake swallowing a thrown stone. But something lingered. Rouis thought he heard a sound¡ªa faint murmur, barely a breath. Was it a final message or just a remnant of the moment? Impossible to tell. The sound faded quickly, leaving behind an oppressive void, a silence so heavy it seemed to crush the space around him. Frozen in place, Rouis didn¡¯t move immediately. His fingers brushed the pouch, as though to confirm it was real. The air suddenly felt lighter, but the sensation wasn¡¯t comforting. It felt hollow, artificial, as if masking a void, an absence. Rouis inhaled slowly, his breath briefly mingling with the mist before vanishing. His movements were slow, almost cautious, as he fastened the pouch to his belt. A faint smile tugged at his lips, but it was just a facade. Beneath the surface, a dull tension gripped his spine. His thoughts wandered to Falk¡¯s tavern, where he could already imagine the comforting burn of alcohol. Yet a cold shiver crept up his spine, lingering at the base of his neck like an invisible hand. It wasn¡¯t just the chill of the night or the strangeness of the moment. It was something else. The mist itself seemed to have left a mark on him, an invisible imprint. He inhaled again, trying to dispel the unease, but it clung to him. Falk, once a feared highwayman, had traded his sword for an apron. Yet despite his new life, a part of him remained perpetually alert. Every movement, every glance betrayed a man accustomed to watching, assessing risks, and reacting before things spiraled out of control. He didn¡¯t need words or weapons to command respect. Even when scrubbing burnt pans or lining up tankards on the counter, a quiet tension radiated from him¡ªa tacit reminder of who he had been. The idea of Falk playing the perfect homemaker drew a mocking smile from Rouis. The tavern was a squat block with blackened walls, standing like a bastion defying time. Inside, the lantern light fought against the ambient darkness, casting shifting shadows on the weary faces of the patrons. The smells of roasted meat and warm beer filled the air, while conversations and laughter created a din that was almost soothing. But as Rouis crossed the threshold, something shifted. The laughter faltered, glances darted away, and a subtle tension settled over the room. Two men seated at the table he aimed for immediately left when their eyes met his. Rouis dropped into the chair with a heavy thud, a smug, almost insolent grin playing on his lips. He surveyed the room. The serving women bustled between tables, but none dared meet his gaze. Eventually, one approached after he called her over, dragging her feet with palpable nervousness. ¡ª ¡°Two whiskeys and the day¡¯s meal,¡± he ordered without looking at her. ¡ª ¡°Yes¡­ right away,¡± she stammered before hurrying off, nearly running. Falk appeared soon after, emerging from the crowd like an imposing shadow. His clenched fists and piercing glare betrayed a simmering anger. ¡ª ¡°Get out, Rouis. You haven¡¯t paid the last few times,¡± he growled. Rouis pulled a gold coin from his pouch and tossed it toward Falk. It spun in the air before landing in the innkeeper¡¯s palm. ¡ª ¡°Satisfied?¡± Rouis asked nonchalantly. Falk didn¡¯t respond. He slammed his fist onto the table, making its surface tremble. Rouis opened his mouth to reply, but Falk had already turned away, leaving behind a palpable tension. Shortly after, the server returned with his meal and two glasses. Rouis downed them in one go, relishing the familiar burn of the alcohol, before turning his attention to the lamb on his plate. His respite was short-lived. An inebriated man, swaying unsteadily, placed a heavy hand on the waitress¡¯s backside. Anger flared within Rouis, swift and unrelenting. He rose in a flash, crossing the room with determined strides. ¡ª ¡°You¡¯ve got a problem?¡± he asked, his voice sharp as a blade. The bald man turned, a mocking smile on his lips. But before he could answer, one of his companions placed a hand on his shoulder. ¡ª ¡°That¡¯s Rouis¡­¡± the man murmured, a warning. The bald man spat on the ground. Without hesitation, Rouis struck, his fist crashing into the man¡¯s temple with a dull thud. The body collapsed, limp, a thin trickle of blood running from his ear. His companions sprang to their feet. Rouis dodged one blow and retaliated with a punch to the second man¡¯s liver, folding him in half before he crumpled to the floor. A sharp crack sounded behind him. Pain exploded in his back, knocking the wind out of him. He stumbled, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. His attacker lunged, but Rouis reacted instinctively, landing a brutal punch to the man¡¯s jaw. Falk¡¯s deep voice cut through the chaos. ¡ª ¡°Out. Now.¡± He grabbed Rouis by the collar and dragged him to the entrance. With one powerful motion, he hurled him into the street. Rouis hit the ground hard, the biting chill of the night stinging like a whip. He lay still for a moment, watching the door slam shut with a decisive clack. The commotion of the tavern already felt like a world away, replaced by the oppressive silence of the street. Rouis drew a deep breath, the icy air mingling with his exhaustion. For the first time that evening, he felt a dull fatigue settle into his limbs. A hand extended in front of him, firm and steady. Rouis looked up. Kaldr, his golden curls tousled by the night breeze, smiled with feigned lightness, a mischievous glint in his eyes. ¡ª "You¡¯re a real clown," Kaldr said, his voice vibrating with genuine amusement. ¡ª "Three at once," Rouis replied, his voice hoarse, his breath still ragged. ¡ª "Impressive, jester. Next time, try staying on your feet," Kaldr added with a mocking grin. Despite his exhaustion, Rouis swung a clumsy punch, but Kaldr easily blocked it, his smirk unwavering. ¡ª "Still as predictable as ever. Come on, sit down before you collapse completely." Kaldr slipped an arm under Rouis¡¯s shoulder and helped him walk. The park¡¯s ground seemed to fight them with every step. A tangle of thick, gnarled roots jutted from the muddy earth, where dead leaves and debris formed an uneven carpet. The paved path, worn by time, was broken and disjointed, overgrown with wild grass. The trees, their bare branches like claws, rose against the black sky, casting a web of shifting shadows under the hesitant moonlight. ¡ª "Still as predictable as ever. Stand up straight, I¡¯m not here to scoop you up," Kaldr teased with a lopsided grin. He offered Rouis a firm hand, grabbing it without hesitation and hauling him to his feet with strength. His other arm slipped under Rouis¡¯s shoulder to steady him. Despite his teasing tone, every movement Kaldr made was precise, imbued with a near-fraternal care. Rouis grunted an inaudible thanks, his legs trembling under his weight. Each step reignited a fresh burst of pain in his ribs, but he clung to Kaldr, refusing to give in. They entered the park, each step a struggle against the treacherous terrain. Thick roots, twisted like frozen serpents mid-battle, rose from the muddy ground, ready to snare any careless foot. The clinging mud slowed their progress, sticky and insidious, while damp, heavy leaves formed a slick, uneven layer beneath their boots. The paved path, a relic of some long-lost order, was now a shattered memory. Its fractured stones, overrun by wild grass clawing through the cracks, vanished into the chaos of nature. The surrounding trees, stripped bare and warped by the winds, stretched their gnarled branches skyward, forming tortured silhouettes. Under the faint moonlight, these mutilated giants cast shifting shadows. The cold, whistling wind wove between the trunks, carrying indistinct murmurs. Panting, Rouis looked up. The branches above seemed to lean toward him, watching silently and ominously, witnesses to their slow progress. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him, and each step roused a dull ache in his ribs. ¡ª "Looks like even the trees are mocking you," Kaldr said, his teasing smile lighting up his face. "But hang in there. I¡¯m not carrying you the whole way." A tired smile tugged at Rouis¡¯s lips. They finally reached the heart of the park, where a massive trunk stood¡ªa relic both imposing and unsettling, a silent witness to centuries of trials. Its deep cracks, oozing dark, viscous sap, resembled gaping wounds that had never fully healed. Thick roots spiraled outward, sinking into the muddy ground as though holding the tree upright despite the weight of the years¡ªor perhaps imprisoning it forever. ¡ª "I know you enjoy sleeping under the stars," Kaldr quipped, gesturing casually toward the trunk. Kaldr guided Rouis to the massive tree. With a mix of strength and nonchalance, he eased him gently against the rough bark. ¡ª "There you go. The tree will support you better than I will," he said with a sly grin. Rouis groaned, sliding slightly against the knotted wood, his breathing labored. The bark, rough and cold, pressed into his bruised back, amplifying his pain with cruel precision. Kaldr, meanwhile, settled next to him, his back against the same trunk. His relaxed posture stood in stark contrast to his friend¡¯s battered state. A moment of silence passed, broken only by the whistling wind weaving through the bare branches. Then, without warning, Kaldr reached into Rouis¡¯s pouch. ¡ª "You¡¯re too slow, so I¡¯ll help myself," he announced, his tone provocatively light. Rouis tried to stop him, but his hand only brushed Kaldr¡¯s sleeve. ¡ª "Bastard," he growled, each word weighed down by effort. "One day, that¡¯s going to cost you." Kaldr raised an eyebrow, as if seriously considering the warning, while the gold coin chimed softly between his fingers. ¡ª "Maybe," he finally replied, a smirk tugging at his lips. "But not today." The gold coin caught the moonlight, gleaming briefly before vanishing into Kaldr¡¯s pocket with a fluid motion. Rouis attempted to push himself upright, but his body refused. A sharp pain flared in his ribs, forcing him back against the trunk with a muffled groan. His hands slipped over the gnarled roots, sinking into the cold mud. The gritty, damp earth beneath his fingers was a cruel reminder of his state¡ªvulnerable, unable to defend himself. Kaldr stood, brushing off his clothes as if nothing unusual had happened. ¡ª "Rest up, Rouis," he added with unexpected gentleness. His footsteps faded slowly into the silence of the park, interrupted only by the sporadic creaking of branches. Rouis remained still, breathing shallowly. Each breath sent a jolt of pain through him, but he took a moment to assess himself. Nothing broken¡ªjust bruises. He rolled slightly onto his side, his muscles protesting each movement, and instinctively checked for his pouch. Frustration welled up as he realized it was noticeably lighter. He gritted his teeth, caught between irritation and a faint hint of resigned amusement. Kaldr¡­ The trunk at his back seemed to watch him. Silent and imposing, its deep cracks oozed dark sap, like gaping wounds. Was it a protector amidst the chaos or a mute witness to his weakness? Rouis couldn¡¯t decide, but he found it hard to look away from its unmoving silhouette. A tree wind slipped beneath his clothes, biting insistently at his skin. Suddenly, a sharp crack echoed above him, abrupt and distinct. A branch shifted ever so slightly, casting a fleeting shadow across his face. For a moment, he felt a presence¡ªfaint but undeniable¡ªlike something watching him from the darkness. Fatigue overwhelmed him before he could delve deeper into the feeling. Darkness claimed him, soft yet relentless. In that fleeting moment, he found an unexpected calm, as though the world, harsh as it was, offered him a reprieve. 2. The Puppets (Kendrys) Sweat trickled down Kendrys'' body, a crushing and familiar heat burning within her like an untamed fire. Lying down, her hands bound by thick roots, she was unable to move. Every muscle in her body, strained to the limit, seemed to cry out under the futile effort to free herself. Her breath came in short gasps, and a dull tingling coursed through her immobilized limbs. Above her, a blurry figure appeared, wavering in her muddled vision. Marte. His features were hollowed by exhaustion, marked by deep circles under his eyes, but a faint smile lit up his lips. ¡ª "You''re finally awake," he murmured softly. Kendrys blinked. ¡ª "You look exhausted, Marte," she replied. ¡ª "I am¡­" he admitted, sitting down beside her with a weary sigh. ¡ª "How long¡­ have I been asleep?" she asked. ¡ª "Three weeks," Marte answered. Kendrys abruptly sat up, a sudden wave of energy coursing through her body. The roots binding her arms snapped. She swayed slightly but steadied herself. ¡ª "We need to return to the capital. Immediately," she declared. Marte, slumped over, lifted his eyes to her with a desperate slowness. ¡ª "Not without me," he murmured. "I need to rest." Kendrys turned her head towards him, her gaze softening slightly. ¡ª "Was it you who healed me?" she asked. Marte nodded slowly, a tired smile playing on his lips. ¡ª "Yes¡­ but it nearly drained all my energy." ¡ª "Thank you, Marte." He nodded faintly, his eyelids half-closed. ¡ª "Rest here," he advised in a weak but firm voice. "It¡¯s safer than rushing to the capital. Let¡¯s wait a few weeks, and we¡¯ll go back together¡­ once I¡¯ve recovered." But Kendrys shook her head. ¡ª "They might need me there," she said. Marte sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping further. ¡ª "Take care of yourself," he murmured at last. She nodded, her eyes meeting his one last time. ¡ª "I promise." Without another word, Kendrys turned and left the room. Her steps echoed on the old wooden stairs. Marte remained slumped on the couch, his gaze fixed on the closed door. A sigh escaped his lips, and he briefly closed his eyes, letting his fatigue envelop him. At the bottom of the staircase, a young woman waited for her, a relieved smile lighting up her face. Her hands, clasped in front of her, betrayed a nervousness she tried to conceal. ¡ª "You¡¯re finally awake," she said. ¡ª "Do we know each other?" Kendrys asked. The young woman gently shook her head. ¡ª "I¡¯m a friend of Marte," she explained. "This inn belongs to me." The words eased some of the tension in Kendrys¡¯ shoulders. She nodded in acknowledgment. ¡ª "Thank you for helping me," she finally said. ¡ª "It was my pleasure," the innkeeper replied with a soft laugh. "Marte¡¯s still upstairs?" ¡ª "Yes, he¡¯s resting. He really needs it." The young woman sighed deeply. ¡ª "I¡¯m glad to hear that. He wasn¡¯t eating anymore, spending his nights watching over you. His plants were draining all his energy," she murmured. ¡ª "Where can I find a horse and some food?" Kendrys finally asked. The innkeeper returned a moment later with carefully packed provisions, then directed her to the nearest stable. As a gesture of gratitude, Kendrys pulled out a well-filled purse from her pocket and offered it to the young woman. ¡ª "Take this," she said. But the woman gently pushed the purse away. ¡ª "It¡¯s not necessary," she replied. Kendrys hesitated for a moment, her fingers still clutching the purse, before putting it back in her pocket. ¡ª "Thank you for everything," she said at last. The young woman gave her one last smile. Kendrys, after a brief exchange of looks, bowed slightly in respect before turning on her heel. She crossed the threshold of the inn, provisions in hand, her mind already set on the road ahead. ***** Kendrys was finally approaching the castle, its imposing towers cutting against the gray sky after five days of relentless riding. The fortress, perched atop a steep mountain, loomed ahead. The icy mountain wind whistled past her ears, slipping into her clothes and tossing the rebellious strands of her hair. Despite the fatigue weighing on her shoulders, Kendrys kept her posture straight and regal, her mount advancing with steady steps along the rocky path leading to the castle gates. The heavy black iron doors stood tall before her, guarded by eight armored soldiers. Their rigid stances, almost martial, signaled their readiness. As Kendrys slowed her approach, one of the guards, evidently their leader, stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. ¡ª "Who are you?" he demanded in a grave voice. Still on horseback, Kendrys let a brief silence hang before locking eyes with the guard. She pulled a royal insignia from her pocket, holding it aloft for all to see. The daylight glinted off the golden emblem, drawing their attention. ¡ª "Kendrys," she declared. "Royal Guard." The guard captain furrowed his brows, squinting as he scrutinized the insignia. ¡ª "No one is allowed entry, by order of the king," he finally said. Kendrys didn¡¯t flinch. Sitting tall in her saddle, she met his gaze with an icy intensity. Her face remained impassive, but her eyes gleamed with a sharp light, like a blade poised to strike. ¡ª "Send a messenger to the king," she said. "Tell him Kendrys is at the gate." The guards exchanged uncertain glances, a heavy silence stretching between them. One of them, younger, looked as if he might say something but reconsidered under the captain¡¯s sharp gaze. ¡ª "Wait here," the captain ordered, nodding to one of the soldiers. The soldier hurried off toward the castle, his boots clattering against the uneven cobblestones. Kendrys followed his retreat with a piercing gaze before returning her attention to the remaining guards. She dismounted, her boots kicking up a dry cloud of dust, and tied her horse to a wooden post. Always on alert, Kendrys turned her eyes toward an inn on the outskirts. The wind carried snippets of muffled conversations. She had barely taken ten steps when a piercing scream shattered the relative calm. The sound, so close, came from a nearby alley. Her senses sharpened instantly. She rushed toward the source of the cries, her boots striking the uneven pavement with urgency. Rounding the corner sharply, the scene before her made her catch her breath. A man was advancing slowly, his face frozen in a strange, vacant expression¡ªmechanical, almost. His blood-soaked clothes clung to his body, and his shuffling steps seemed devoid of any will. Around him, bodies lay scattered on the ground. Their chests had been torn open, gaping, painting the street with sprays of blood and fragments of flesh. The air was thick with the metallic stench of blood and death. A burning anger surged through Kendrys. Her fists clenched, and in an instant, flames erupted around her hands¡ªvivid, untamed fire crackling at her fingertips. Without hesitation, she hurled a fireball directly at the man. The attack struck its target, and his body was engulfed in flames, collapsing with a sinister crackle. The man¡¯s back suddenly exploded with a dull thud, scattering charred flesh around him. Two glowing eyes emerged from the scorched mass, shining with malevolent light, as a grotesque smile twisted what remained of his face. ¡ª "Missed, little human," a cavernous voice jeered. A black cat sprang from the corpse, its sinister laughter slicing through the air like a razor. It leapt onto the roof of a nearby house, its movements swift and fluid, defying gravity. Furious, Kendrys raised her flaming hand and launched another fireball at the creature. But the cat, with supernatural agility, dodged the attack effortlessly, landing on another rooftop. ¡ª "Missed again," it mocked. "At this rate, you¡¯ll end up burning down the entire town." Kendrys gritted her teeth, her fiery gaze locked onto the creature. With a sharp motion, she extinguished her flames, aware of the danger her powers posed in such a confined space. Instead, she chose to pursue the demon on foot, her rapid steps echoing through the cobblestone streets. The cat bounded from roof to roof, a fleeting black blur against the gray sky. Despite all her energy and determination, Kendrys couldn¡¯t catch up. Her muscles burned, her breath grew ragged, but she did not slow. After several minutes of frantic pursuit, the demon vanished into the shadows of the alleys. Kendrys came to a halt, panting, her hands trembling with frustration. Refusing to give up, she let flames envelop her once more and rose into the air, surveying the city from above. From this vantage point, she scanned every corner, every rooftop, every dark alley. Her eyes desperately sought any movement, any flash of black. But there was nothing. The demon had vanished. Kendrys descended slowly, her anger still simmering, and fixed her gaze for a moment on the street where it had all begun. The mutilated bodies, the dried blood on the cobblestones. She clenched her fists. This wasn¡¯t over. Kendrys returned to the starting point, where several guards had gathered. Their faces were marked with fatigue and worry, their armor, though polished, seemed to weigh down their movements. She brandished her insignia with a firm gesture. ¡ª "It was a demon. I¡¯ll file a report," she announced. The guards, visibly shaken, instinctively stepped aside, though their eyes remained fixed on her, a flicker of fear and confusion within them. As they began to disperse, Kendrys grabbed one of them by the arm. ¡ª "I need to enter the castle," she ordered. The man stiffened under her grip, carefully avoiding her gaze. ¡ª "No one is allowed inside." ¡ª "Why?" Kendrys pressed. The guards exchanged nervous glances, hesitation hanging heavily in the air between them. After a moment of silence, one of them cleared his throat before murmuring: ¡ª "There¡¯s a plague." Kendrys narrowed her eyes. ¡ª "A plague of what?" Another guard, older and more experienced, stepped forward. He nodded slowly, inviting her to follow. Without a word, she fell into step behind him. They walked in silence to their barracks, where the atmosphere was even more oppressive. The place seemed drained of all hope. Inside, the guards removed their armor with weary motions, the metallic clatter of pieces hitting the floor breaking the heavy silence. One of them pulled out a bottle of rum and slammed it onto the table, a desperate attempt to escape the grim reality. ¡ª "Care for a drink?" he asked. ¡ª "No," Kendrys replied. The soldier shrugged and poured himself a generous amount, followed by his companions. The amber liquid shimmered in the flickering candlelight. Finally, the guard who had led her spoke. ¡ª "The plague began a few weeks ago," he said in a low, somber tone. "At first, it was just the servants. We didn¡¯t worry too much¡­ until it reached the royal bloodline." Kendrys remained motionless, her hardened features masking the storm of thoughts swirling within her. ¡ª "How many victims?" she asked. The guard hesitated, downing his glass before answering. ¡ª "Many. It¡¯s impossible to say exactly how many. The castle is under quarantine. No one goes in, no one comes out. Those who tried¡­ never returned," he added. ¡ª "Who¡¯s been affected?" she insisted, her tone growing sharper. ¡ª "Rumor has it that even the lords have been stricken," another guard murmured. A heavy silence settled once more. Kendrys, standing tall and composed, seemed like a statue of discipline, though inside, her mind churned with unease. After a long moment, she reached out, grabbed the bottle of rum, and poured herself a glass. She stared at the liquid for a moment, her gaze distant, before downing it in one gulp. The burning taste clung to her throat. ¡ª "Thank you for the information," she finally said, setting the glass down with a sharp clink. She turned on her heel and left the barracks. Outside, the cold air lashed at her face, but she didn¡¯t slow her pace ***** As night fell, Kendrys slipped into the forest bordering the castle. The gnarled trees twisted like petrified figures in an eternal dance, their intertwined branches forming a dark and oppressive canopy. The wind whistled through the foliage. Each step on the mossy ground cracked old branches beneath her boots. She knew this place. Every corner, every turn was etched into her memory. She pushed aside a thick bush. As if moved by its own will, the foliage parted gently, revealing a discreet opening hidden under a thick layer of moss. Kendrys took a deep breath and crouched to enter the passage. The tunnel plunged beneath the castle¡¯s foundations, darkness swallowing her almost immediately. The air was cold and damp, and each breath carried a faint taste of earth. Her hands slid along the rough, wet walls, where fine spiderwebs clung to her skin. She grimaced, stifling a shiver of disgust. She hated spiders. To pierce the oppressive darkness, she summoned a flame to the tip of her finger. Its flickering light revealed a narrow, spiraling staircase descending deeper into the earth¡¯s bowels. Each step was worn, crumbling from the passage of time, and Kendrys had to brace herself against the wall to keep her balance. The dull clatter of her boots echoed in the enclosed space, each sound reverberating endlessly through the tunnel. After what felt like an eternity, she finally reached the tunnel¡¯s end. The light of her flame revealed a forgotten courtyard where nature had reclaimed its domain. The worn cobblestones had all but disappeared beneath a dense carpet of greenery, where climbing plants and wildflowers bloomed in disarray. But what drew her attention was the enormous rose bush standing at the courtyard¡¯s center. Its twisted and imposing branches seemed to rise from the ground like an ancient entity, and its roses, a deep, vibrant red, were as large as clenched fists. Kendrys stepped closer, an odd curiosity compelling her to reach for one of the roses. She carefully plucked the flower, but as soon as the stem was cut, its petals burst like fireworks, scattering into a myriad of glowing fragments. Startled by the reaction, Kendrys stared for a moment at the bare stem still in her hand. She slipped it into her pocket. Her attention then shifted to a hidden door, almost entirely concealed behind a wall of climbing ivy. The thick leaves covered the surface of the aged wood, making the door nearly indistinguishable to an untrained eye. She pushed aside the plants, revealing the door. Her hand rested on the rough wood, hesitating for a moment. Then, with a slight push, the door opened with a sharp creak. The air changed immediately¡ªdrier, heavier, laden with the scent of aged wood and damp stone. Kendrys stepped inside, softly closing the door behind her. The castle''s darkness wrapped around her like a familiar shadow, and her senses sharpened once more.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Inside, an oppressive silence reigned. The air, thick and stale, carried an acrid smell that clung to her throat and burned her nostrils. Kendrys inhaled slowly, then conjured a thin layer of flames around her body. She moved forward cautiously, her senses on high alert, scanning for any signs of danger. When she reached the steward¡¯s office, a faint light glowed from within. Through the partially open door, she spotted Soren, bent over his desk, his quill gliding across the parchment. ¡ª "I know you¡¯re there, Kendrys," he said calmly, without lifting his eyes. Kendrys extinguished her flames and stepped through the threshold. ¡ª "Have you sent your report?" he asked. ¡ª "Not yet," she replied. Soren set his quill down and raised his head. His eyes, ringed with deep shadows, were dull, almost lifeless, and his face, usually severe, was etched with an unusual weariness. ¡ª "I¡¯m listening," he said simply. Kendrys took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. ¡ª "I spent a week in the north," she began, her gaze locked on Soren, gauging his reaction. "I found flocks of sheep dead, all drained of their blood." She paused. ¡ª "I had to hide for several days before discovering it was the work of blood-drinking flies. They seemed drawn to a nearby marsh." Soren nodded faintly, his expression impassive, as though expecting more. ¡ª "There, I found a witch," she continued. "She captured me, but Marte intervened. He killed her." ¡ª "Where is he now?" Soren asked. ¡ª "Still there," she replied, watching his face for any reaction. ¡ª "Very well," he murmured, returning to his writing. The scratching of the quill against the parchment filled the room with a steady, monotonous sound. Kendrys stood still, her eyes fixed on Soren¡¯s every movement. ¡ª "Do you need anything else, Kendrys?" he asked without looking up. ¡ª "I¡¯ve heard about an epidemic," she replied. This time, Soren stopped writing. He remained still for a moment, as if her words had shattered an invisible barrier. Slowly, he lifted his head and met her gaze with his glassy eyes. ¡ª "Yes," he said at last. "Many have died. Those who survived are now immune, but no one can leave the castle." A cold shiver ran down Kendrys¡¯ spine. ¡ª "Have you discovered the cause?" she pressed. Soren stared at her for a long moment, his gaze hollow. ¡ª "No," he replied curtly, before returning to his writing, as though her question held no significance. Kendrys remained motionless, her mind swirling with unease. A deep, visceral discomfort crept into her, impossible to ignore. Something here was profoundly wrong. She turned on her heel and left the room. As Kendrys returned to her room, she was struck by an acrid stench of sulfur permeating the air. Each breath seared her throat, making the atmosphere almost unbearable. She opened the window in search of fresh air, but the smell lingered, clinging to her like a malevolent shadow. Kendrys ignited, allowing her flames to engulf her body, and leapt into the street below. Around her, the townsfolk shuffled along with dragging steps, their feet barely lifting from the cobblestones as if they no longer had the strength. Their arms hung limply by their sides or swung in slow, disjointed motions, like puppets without strings. Some carried bags or baskets, their fingers gripping the handles with an odd stiffness, their joints seemingly locked. Their heads were slightly tilted, their faces turned toward an unseen horizon. Their gazes were fixed on an invisible point, their pupils dilated and unmoving. No blinking, no spark of awareness in their eyes¡ªonly an abyssal void, as though their souls had been stripped away. A woman with dull hair, wrapped in a faded shawl, passed a few steps from Kendrys. She carried a basket overflowing with apples, one of which rolled to the ground, shattering against the cobblestones. The woman didn¡¯t stop, didn¡¯t even glance down, continuing her relentless march without a hint of concern. A man dressed in a tattered tunic stumbled along nearby, his movements jerky, as if battling invisible strings pulling at his limbs. His head turned slightly in Kendrys¡¯ direction, but his gaze passed through her as though she wasn¡¯t there. A cold shiver ran down her spine. What she was witnessing was far from natural. An invisible, malevolent force seemed to be controlling these bodies. Pushing aside the oppressive feeling, Kendrys made her way to a nearby tavern. Inside, the atmosphere was stifling, almost suffocating. Laughter erupted from the patrons at intervals, but it rang hollow¡ªdistant echoes, forced, almost mechanical. Kendrys scanned the room. The patrons slumped in their chairs, raising their tankards with clumsy, uncoordinated gestures. Their eyes were devoid of emotion, of life, of any trace of humanity. Empty shells. She suppressed a shiver and forced herself to move forward. Behind the counter, a server was furiously polishing glasses, his movements rapid and repetitive, like a well-oiled machine¡ªbut one lacking grace. After a moment¡¯s hesitation, Kendrys approached the counter. The server, as if sensing her presence before she even arrived, turned abruptly, his face twisted into a rigid, almost grotesque smile. ¡ª "What can I get you?" he asked in an unnaturally cheerful tone. ¡ª "A beer," she replied. ¡ª "I¡¯ll get that for you right away," he declared with exaggerated enthusiasm before disappearing behind the bar. She took a seat at a table. A few minutes later, he returned with a frothy tankard in hand. She thanked him with a slight nod before lifting the drink to her lips. Discreetly, she sniffed the liquid, and a strange, subtle but unmistakably suspicious scent wafted up to her nose. Kendrys pretended to drink, then discreetly emptied the contents of the tankard into a plant beside her. She watched the plant closely, expecting an immediate reaction. But nothing happened. The plant remained still, its leaves unblemished. She placed the empty tankard on the counter and waited, her gaze sweeping the room in search of a clue, a sign. Ten minutes later, the server reappeared, his rigid smile still plastered across his expressionless face. ¡ª "Would you like another beer?" he asked. ¡ª "No, this is perfect," she replied. ¡ª "Very well, madam," he said, executing a clumsy bow before walking away. His steps, unnaturally long and oddly synchronized, gave his silhouette a grotesque, almost surreal appearance. Kendrys followed him with her eyes. As she stood to leave the tavern, a cold hand, hard as stone, suddenly clamped down on her arm, halting her mid-step. A shiver rippled through her body, but she spun around sharply, her hair igniting instantly. In front of her stood a small, dark-haired man with an unremarkable appearance, yet his eyes, milky white, stared beyond her, fixed on an invisible point. Despite his blind gaze, Kendrys felt the chilling penetration of his presence. A wide smile stretched across his face. ¡ª "Can I help you?" she asked sharply, flames dancing around her shoulders, ready to erupt. The man didn¡¯t respond. His smile twisted even further, a grotesque grimace that continued to stretch unnaturally, revealing uneven, yellowed teeth. His icy hand gripped her arm with an inhuman strength. The man¡¯s skin began to smolder, cracking and blackening under the heat, releasing the scent of burning wood. Yet he remained motionless, impervious to the pain, his smile frozen in place. With a cry of rage, Kendrys gathered her strength and shoved him violently. The force hurled his frail body backward, slamming him into a table with a dull thud. The entire room seemed to hold its breath for a moment. Then, in perfect synchronization, the other patrons of the tavern rose to their feet. Their movements were slow but coordinated, their heads turning toward Kendrys in unison. They advanced silently, forming a menacing mass, intent on encircling her. Kendrys felt her heart race, but her instincts took over. In one leap, she stepped back, flames erupting around her. Her feet left the ground in a fluid motion as she propelled herself through the window in a burst of light and shattered glass. The shards sparkled briefly before clattering onto the cobblestones with a metallic ring. Outside, the horror escalated. The streets were swarming with a seething crowd, their glassy eyes reflecting the same soulless void as those she had left inside. Hundreds of figures converged toward her. On the rooftops, shadowy forms climbed with inhuman agility, tearing off tiles and hurling them in her direction. Kendrys took a deep breath. Her flames roared back to life, engulfing her in fiery wings. With a single powerful beat, she ascended into the air, soaring above the seething mass pursuing her. The streets, rooftops, and every corner of the city seemed animated by this dark force. She turned her sights toward the prison. In front of the heavy prison gates, four sentinels stood motionless. Their postures were upright, their expressions rigid, but their eyes were fixed on some distant point. ¡ª "Visitation hours are over for today," they said in unison, their voices monotonous. Kendrys produced her royal insignia. ¡ª "I need to enter. Now," she commanded. The guards remained still for a moment before one stepped forward. ¡ª "Follow us," he said in an icy tone, without meeting her gaze. They advanced through the prison¡¯s corridors, their footsteps echoing against the stone floor in perfect rhythm. But something was wrong. Kendrys observed the walls, the intersections. This path was unfamiliar to her. ¡ª "Where are we going?" she asked. There was no answer. The guards continued walking, their boots striking the stone floor in a cadence that was almost hypnotic. Their movements were too precise, too mechanical to be natural. Kendrys abruptly stopped. Her instincts on high alert, she reached out and grabbed the arm of the nearest guard. The coldness she felt made her nearly recoil. This wasn¡¯t the chill of human skin. It was something far colder, far more alien. A shiver of disgust ran down her spine, her eyes widening slightly. ¡ª "This isn¡¯t possible¡­" she murmured, more to herself than to the guards. Acting on instinct, Kendrys unleashed her flames, a reflex born of urgency. The intense heat lit up the corridor, roaring around the guards and engulfing them in a fiery wave. What happened next only deepened her unease. There were no screams, no defensive movements, not even a step back. The figures stood motionless, as if they felt neither pain nor fear. Within seconds, the flames consumed their bodies. But as the firelight dimmed, their true forms were revealed. Crude wooden fragments lay scattered on the floor, lifeless. Thin cracks ran along the charred remains. Kendrys stepped back, her breath quickening as her mind struggled to rationalize what she had just witnessed. Pushing her thoughts aside, she quickened her pace, her breathing uneven. When she finally reached Fulger¡¯s cell, a disturbing scene awaited her. Inside, Fulger sat casually, surrounded by the dismembered bodies of about a dozen officers. Their limbs, now lifeless, revealed wooden surfaces beneath their torn uniforms. Splinters and fragments of wood littered the ground. Fulger slowly lifted his gaze to her. His eyes, weary yet tinged with amusement, met Kendrys¡¯ intense stare. A faint smile played on his lips, an almost mocking expression. ¡ª "You¡¯ve been visiting often these days, Kendrys," he said. Kendrys frowned, ignoring his remark. ¡ª "What are these¡­ things?" she demanded. Fulger shrugged nonchalantly, his smile widening slightly. ¡ª "Puppets," he replied simply, as if the word explained everything. Kendrys knelt beside one of the bodies. Her fingers brushed against the rough wooden surface, finely carved. There was no trace of life essence, no hint of an aura¡ªjust inert wood. ¡ª "We need to leave. Now," she declared, standing up. Fulger didn¡¯t move immediately. He watched her, his dark eyes glinting with an unreadable expression. ¡ª "Why?" he retorted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Kendrys didn¡¯t answer. She placed her hands on the cell bars, and an intense heat spread through the metal. The surface began to glow red, then melt, droplets of molten iron dripping to the floor. Fulger, still seated, observed the display with detached interest. When the bars had been reduced to a pool of liquid metal, he finally stood, a shadow of exhaustion passing over his face. ¡ª "Impressive," he murmured, though his tone carried no sincerity. Kendrys wasted no time. She grabbed his arm. ¡ª "We¡¯re moving. Now," she ordered. Fulger let out a soft chuckle but followed her without protest. Together, they stepped over the remnants of the cell. Behind them, shards of wood and molten metal lay scattered in the dark. In the shadowy corridors, dozens of puppets stood in rows, motionless like disembodied sentinels. Fulger abruptly stopped, letting go of Kendrys¡¯ hand. ¡ª "I¡¯ll handle this," he said. Before she could respond, Fulger began to tremble, as though containing a power too immense to control. His hands, raised before him, glowed with streaks of light that danced along his fingers. Suddenly, bolts of lightning erupted from his palms, flooding the corridors with blinding white light. The energy crackled around him, filling the air with an intense hum that resonated like distant thunder. The raw heat and sheer force emanating from him made the stone walls tremble slightly. With a swift motion, Fulger unleashed an arc of lightning toward the walls, triggering a destructive wave that rippled through the confined space. The puppets, caught in the storm of energy, shattered under its impact. Their wooden bodies splintered, fragments flying against the walls and scattering across the floor. Some disintegrated into a rain of glowing embers, falling to the ground in smoldering remnants When the attack ceased, silence fell abruptly. Only the residual sparks crackled faintly on the ground. Kendrys swept the corridor with her gaze. The puppets had been obliterated. Fulger lowered his arms, his shoulders slightly slumped from the effort. Wisps of smoke still curled from his fingers, and his breathing, though steady, betrayed a hint of fatigue. ¡ª "You could say thank you," he finally said, an ironic smile playing on his lips. ¡ª "Impressive," she admitted. "But don¡¯t linger. This isn¡¯t over." They escaped the prison, but no sooner had they crossed the threshold than a deep rumble filled the air, followed by a deafening crash. A tide of puppets surged from the alleyways, their disjointed bodies rushing toward them with terrifying speed. Their jerky, mechanical movements created a cacophony of creaking wood and clattering against the cobblestones. ¡ª "There are too many..." Fulger murmured hoarsely. He clung to Kendrys¡¯ arm, his legs buckling under the strain. ¡ª "Follow me!" she commanded, pulling him along. She knew of a secret passage out of the city, but Fulger grew heavier with each step. His strength was failing, and every stride seemed to pull him closer to the thin line between life and death. The puppets pursued them relentlessly¡ªcrawling, leaping with an almost supernatural agility. Some, half-destroyed, dragged themselves over their fallen comrades, their wooden fingers scraping against the pavement in a desperate attempt to reach them. Fulger suddenly stopped, yanking Kendrys backward. ¡ª "What are you doing? They¡¯re coming!" she shouted. He turned his head slowly toward her, a sad smile forming on his lips. ¡ª "I¡¯m going to slow them down," he said. "I can¡¯t keep going." Before she could respond or protest, he raised his arms. A rumble filled the air, and a blinding light erupted from his palms. Lightning exploded with devastating intensity. The puppets were cut down by the wave of energy. Their bodies shattered into pieces, splinters of wood flying in every direction. The shockwave made the ground quake, and nearby buildings trembled under the impact. But the display of power left Fulger utterly drained. He collapsed abruptly, his limp body hitting the ground with a heavy thud. ¡ª "Fulger!" Kendrys screamed, rushing to his side. She slipped her arms under his shoulders, desperately trying to lift him. But he was too heavy, and his breathing grew irregular. Around them, the puppets, though diminished, continued crawling, their broken forms inching closer with an eerie persistence. Kendrys unleashed flames in every direction, creating a blazing circle around them. The air grew stifling, saturated with the acrid stench of burning wood. Yet the horde seemed endless¡ªeach puppet destroyed was replaced by two more. Her energy waned quickly, and her breaths grew shallow. The puppets crept closer, their charred bodies forming a relentless, writhing mass. A piercing scream shattered the chaos. Kendrys looked up just in time to see a metal bar slicing through the air, impaling Fulger. ¡ª "No!" she screamed. Lightning streaked furiously across the clouds. A second bar pierced his chest, pinning his body to the ground. Kendrys froze, paralyzed by horror. ¡ª "Fulger..." she whispered, tears streaming down her face. The flames around her surged, fueled by uncontrollable rage and grief. They cascaded through the streets like a tidal wave, consuming everything in their path. The puppets were reduced to ashes. With a powerful beat of fiery wings, Kendrys rose into the air, leaving behind a city ablaze. The streets, the buildings¡ªeverything was swallowed by an uncontrollable inferno. Kendrys fled the capital, her body weighed down by exhaustion. Behind her, the burning city became a hellish spectacle. Among the many structures devoured by the fire, one tower stood out. Tall and imposing, it still rose above the destruction, but its top, cloaked in an incandescent shroud, twisted under the relentless heat. Flames clung to its stone walls like greedy claws, licking its surface in a hypnotic dance. Thick plumes of black smoke billowed from its gaping openings, merging with the sky, already darkened by ash. Suddenly, a deep crack reverberated through the air, followed by a series of detonations echoing like thunderclaps. The base of the tower, weakened by the flames and intense heat, fractured. Large sections of its walls collapsed inward. The top wavered. Then, with a deafening roar, it slowly toppled, succumbing to its own weight. As the tower collapsed completely, it sent a cloud of dust and ash billowing into the air, mingling with the smoke. The fire, seemingly alive, appeared to possess its own will. It crawled along the fa?ades of buildings, devouring structures like an insatiable predator. The flames spiraled skyward, licking at the ash-laden sky. As Kendrys flew farther away, the inferno continued its relentless spread, reaching the city¡¯s outskirts in infernal waves. At the periphery, chaos reigned supreme. The streets, overrun with panicked residents, echoed with piercing screams. Disoriented figures ran in all directions¡ªsome carrying buckets of water, others clutching bags containing whatever they could salvage. Children cried, clinging to their parents¡¯ arms, while frightened animals scrambled to escape the growing hell. The flames, fueled by the wind and flammable materials, had transformed into a wall of fire, spreading inexorably. They snaked through narrow alleys, leaping from roof to roof with terrifying speed. Each blaze erupted with a roar, an infernal symphony drowning out the cries and pleas for help. ¡ª "It¡¯s her!" a voice shouted from the crowd, piercing through the chaos. "She caused all of this!" Other voices joined, their fear and anger mingling with the roaring flames. Scattered gazes shifted skyward. There, Kendrys wavered clumsily, rising into the air. Ash swirled around her, carried by the heat. Below, faces twisted with hate and terror. Kendrys could feel their fury reaching up to her, burning as fiercely as the fire consuming the city. She clenched her fists, summoning what remained of her resolve. Each beat of her fiery wings carried her a little farther, but her body felt heavy, her power slipping from her control. The flames continued to grow behind her, their crimson light illuminating the outskirts. She turned her eyes away from the destruction she left in her wake, but she couldn¡¯t escape the reflection of her actions within the fire¡¯s glow. Her gift finally failed. The flames surrounding her flickered and died, leaving Kendrys exposed. Gravity took hold, and her body plummeted. The wind screamed in her ears as the ground rushed toward her. She crashed hard at the forest¡¯s edge, the brutal impact knocking the air from her lungs. Pain exploded through her body, every bone and muscle screaming in protest. A dull throb pulsed through her, leaving her motionless for a moment, unable to move. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps as she struggled to fill her lungs. Her trembling hands sought support from the soft earth, but even that simple motion felt insurmountable. Slowly, she pushed herself up, swaying on unsteady legs. Every movement was agony, every step an ordeal. Limping, she made her way toward the shadows of the forest. Behind her, the capital still burned. A sea of fire, alive and insatiable, continued its relentless advance. She didn¡¯t dare look back. Yet even without turning, she could feel the oppressive heat of the inferno at her back, a presence she couldn¡¯t escape. Kendrys trudged forward, dragging her feet through the soft earth of the forest. Her legs trembled, her strength draining with every step, but she didn¡¯t stop. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, as though trying to channel her rage and despair. She had caused this catastrophe. 3. Bound by the Unseen (Thana)
Thana walked with measured steps, his sharp, bright red shoes striking the cobblestones with a hypnotic regularity. With each movement, the multicolored diamonds of his outfit seemed to catch the light, scattering in shifting bursts like a flame in the wind. Ahead of him, the road remained deserted, but around him, in the sun-drenched fields, silhouettes froze, held captive by silent curiosity. A man, leaning against a rickety cart, halted his motion, his fingers clutching the rough wood, his gaze fixed on the radiant singularity passing before him. Further along, a woman in a crimson- stained apron paused mid-motion, a cluster of grapes still hanging between her fingers, her breath held as if she feared breaking the silence of the moment. Even a child, crouched at the edge of the road, dropped his stones abruptly, the pebbles tumbling to the ground as his widened eyes followed the advancing figure. Thana did not avert his gaze. He continued on his path, impervious to the suspended stares, indifferent to the hushed murmurs that barely bloomed before fading. Nothing in his stride, however, betrayed the slightest interest in his surroundings. He walked, calm and unyielding, as though the road itself existed solely to unfold beneath his steps. Further ahead, within a perfectly aligned row of meticulously tended vines, a young boy was working with an almost choreographic precision. His hands moved deftly among the vines, pruning and adjusting with the ease of a master despite his youth. Intrigued by the scene, Thana halted his march and approached, his shadow stretching to the boy''s feet. ¡ª"I¡¯m looking for a place to quench my thirst," he said. The child looked up, initially frozen by the strangeness of the man before him. His gaze slowly drifted down to the red shoes, climbed back up to the colorful attire, and finally settled on Thana¡¯s impassive face. Surprise, mingled with caution, flashed briefly in his eyes before polite reflex took over. He extended his water bottle, almost mechanically. Thana grabbed it and drank eagerly. The fresh droplets slid down his throat, tracing invisible shivers across his skin. When he was finished, he handed the empty bottle back to the boy, a fleeting smile lighting up his features. ¡ª"Is your master here?" he asked. The boy nodded, pointing to a towering figure on the horizon. The manor, draped in climbing vines and haloed by sunlight glinting off its windows, dominated the landscape. Thana fixed his gaze on the building, an unreadable glimmer passing through his eyes. ¡ª"Take me to him," he added. Intrigued by the request and the strange demeanor of his companion, the boy dashed off, his slender legs bounding between the rows of vines with youthful energy. Thana watched him, his face expressionless, before turning his attention to the clusters of grapes hanging around him. With a nonchalant gesture, he plucked one, brought it to his lips, and bit into a grape. The exquisite sweetness burst on his palate, but the pleasure was fleeting, quickly overtaken by the cold determination etched into his gaze. The wait stretched out like a taut string, each moment adding weight to the atmosphere. Finally, figures emerged from the fading light. Slowly, with an almost ceremonial gravity, a group of men approached, their heavy steps pounding the earth. Three hulking figures draped in dark coats flanked an old man in the center. His measured gait radiated crushing authority. The weathered face of the man, carved by years and struggles, resembled a mask of stone. His piercing, icy eyes locked onto Thana''s. ¡ª"Are you looking for me?" the old man called out, his thunderous voice shattering the stillness. Thana lifted his gaze. ¡ª"I¡¯m looking for a friend," he replied. The old man didn¡¯t answer immediately. His features stiffened, his expression closing like a door. Then his eyes, hard as shards of steel, scrutinized Thana. ¡ª"A fiery woman," Thana clarified. The master of the estate¡¯s face grew even tenser, his features taking on a deathlike rigidity. He raised his hand in a slow gesture. The air around him contracted, an invisible ripple undulating through the space. Then, without a sound, a black portal appeared at his side. Its edges shimmered with a darkness so profound it seemed to devour the surrounding light. ¡ª"I must find her." The old man remained motionless for a moment, his eyes narrowed into icy slits. Then, without a word, he stepped through the portal¡¯s threshold, his companions close behind. Their silhouettes disappeared into the shadow, swallowed by the darkness. And suddenly, Thana was alone on the deserted road, bathed in the hesitant, fading light of the day.
Thana did not stay still for long. All around him, the air seemed to thicken, vibrating with an energy that defied the natural. A chill coursed through his body, but it wasn¡¯t merely internal¡ª the very atmosphere seemed to share in it. The shadows of the trees, previously still, began to quiver and then undulate as though caught in an invisible wind. They stretched and contorted, slowly taking on grotesque, humanlike shapes. Tormented faces emerged from the dark outlines, their mouths open in silent screams. Hollow sockets fixed their gaze on Thana. It was then that his own body began to unravel. His skin stretched and split with a sharp crack, releasing a torrent of flesh and bone. His eye sockets sank into his skull like two bottomless pits, and his jaws shattered, scattering fragments into the heavy air. His entire head imploded in a grotesque burst, its pieces flying apart in a chaotic explosion. The shadows, echoing this destruction, wavered and trembled violently. Reality wavered. The colors of the world inverted suddenly: the lush greens of the trees turned spectral white, the sky became an inky black, and the blood spilled from Thana shimmered like liquid silver. A low rumble resonated through the ground. Then, everything froze. The fragments of Thana began to converge. They slid toward one another with an inhuman fluidity. Each piece found its place. The screaming faces in the shadows slowly faded, their forms dissolving into the outlines of the trees, but their expressions of terror remained etched in the air. When his face was fully reformed, Thana lifted his head. Not a single scar remained, but his gaze had changed. His pupils, a deep black, now glowed with a cosmic light. Entire galaxies danced within them, dying stars, consumed worlds. A chilling aura emanated from him, and even the wind seemed to halt, restrained by an instinctive fear. Thana continued his march. Each step seemed to bring him closer to an invisible boundary, a threshold between the tangible world and a reality he could not yet grasp. When he finally reached the banks of a river, the landscape before him seemed unreal. The black water, disturbingly still, did not reflect the starry sky; it seemed to devour it, each glimmering star disappearing into its unfathomable depths. Then came the voice. Soft and melodic. It emerged from the night like an ancient whisper, resonating in the air, in the water, in the trees themselves. Thana stopped, frozen by the vision before him. On the river, a figure appeared, floating above the water like an ethereal mirage. A woman. No, something far greater, far older. An entity. She moved with supernatural grace, her feet barely grazing the smooth, still surface of the water, without disturbing its tranquility. Around her, her black hair danced in the air, alive, as if animated by its own will. It stretched into infinite undulations, rising and falling, blending with the wind, but that was not all. As it extended, it seemed to consume space, reaching beyond the river to embrace the entire land. Wherever it passed, light vanished, and the world disappeared. Thana stepped forward, but each step was heavier than the last, as if the very ground resisted him. The air around him vibrated. When he finally spoke, his voice broke the oppressive silence. ¡ª"Mother, may I assist you?" The woman stopped. Slowly, she turned her head toward him. And the water beneath her feet, until then motionless, began to ripple. Her gaze fell upon him, and Thana felt his breath catch. It was not a human gaze: within her pupils, he saw entire worlds being born and collapsing, cosmic currents swirling, fragments of reality tearing apart and vanishing. ¡ª"I did not grant you permission to intervene," she said. He remained silent for a moment, swallowing the bitterness rising in his throat. Then he smiled, a bitter, tight smile, before letting out a short, almost mocking laugh. ¡ª"A human dares to defy his fate, and I should remain indifferent?" Nyx turned her gaze away, without so much as a sigh, toward the starry sky. But as her eyes left Thana, an invisible wave rippled outward. The river trembled, and suddenly, the water rose in chaotic motion. Waves surged around her. A low rumble rose from the ground, and a fissure appeared on the riverbank, snaking beneath Thana''s feet. Without paying attention to these disturbances, Nyx resumed her walk. Her hair, like living shadows, extended in all directions. The trees, unable to resist their grasp, snapped with ominous cracks, their branches falling into the darkness. Rocks vanished, swallowed by the shifting blackness, and even the moonlight faded. ¡ª"We are not to meddle in the affairs of mortals," she finally declared. Thana stood motionless. Nyx''s figure was slowly disappearing, but her aura lingered. A sense of emptiness, of absolute silence, seeped into the air. Yet something still burned within him. An
obsessive fascination for this entity that transcended everything he could comprehend. And yet, beneath that fascination, a dull frustration was rising. He lifted his eyes to the sky, now void of light. The night had thickened, tangible, clinging, like a veil of shadow wrapping around everything. ***** Thana finally reached the capital. It loomed before him, perched atop an imposing mountain. The peaceful villages and rolling hills he had passed now seemed like relics of another time. Here, stone reigned supreme. The towering walls, carved from the very rock of the mountain, seemed to absorb the light. The crenelated towers, bristling with gleaming spears and flags whipping in the wind, rose like sharp fangs, challenging the sky. From the valley below, the winding path leading to the city snaked through steep slopes, lined with rocks and roots that seemed eager to trap unwary travelers. When he finally reached the monumental gates, he was greeted by motionless guards, frozen like statues, their silhouettes almost blending into the dark stone of the walls. Their gazes, sharp as blades, pierced the passersby, scrutinizing every movement with relentless precision. As Thana approached, the group stirred. Three guards stepped into his path, their silhouettes stark against the imposing shadow of the walls. ¡ª"Halt!" barked the first. "State your name and your purpose." Thana slowed, his steps halting a few meters from the guards. He raised his eyes to them, his gaze cold and inscrutable as it settled on the one who had spoken. ¡ª"Mardeh," he replied. ¡ª"''Mardeh''? That¡¯s it?" hissed the second guard, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "That¡¯s not a name." A faint smile flickered across Thana¡¯s lips, a smile devoid of warmth. The first guard frowned, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his sword. ¡ª"Remove your cloak," he ordered. "And be clearer about your business." Slowly, Thana unbuttoned his cloak and let it slide from his shoulders. The sword hanging at his belt, with its hilt engraved with intricate patterns, immediately drew their attention. ¡ª"Nice weapon," murmured the third guard as he stepped closer, his eyes fixed on the blade. ¡ª"Who gave it to you?" Thana didn¡¯t answer. He inclined his head slightly. "Well, stranger?" pressed the first guard. "Speak, or you¡¯ll go no further." Thana lowered his gaze to the cobblestones before him, as if absorbed by an invisible thought. When he raised his head, his expression had changed, his eyes ignited with something elusive¡ªa frozen flame burning within. "Gatekeepers... You¡¯re so fascinating," he murmured, almost to himself. "Always so convinced of your own importance, and yet... so fragile." The guards exchanged uneasy glances, disturbed by the strangeness of his words. The second guard gripped the hilt of his weapon tightly and stepped forward. "Fragile?" growled one of the guards. But before he could go further¡ª A sharp, brutal sound shattered the air, like a thunderclap. The first guard¡¯s skull exploded, a burst of blood spraying in all directions, spattering the walls and cobblestones. Fragments of bone and flesh flew, hanging briefly in the air before falling heavily to the ground. The two remaining guards, frozen in stupefaction, didn¡¯t even have time to react. An invisible, relentless force struck them down. Their heads split open with a sickening crack, like overripe fruit. Their bodies collapsed almost in slow motion, lifeless, disjointed like puppets with severed strings. The metallic clatter of their weapons echoed across the cobblestones. Thana remained motionless. Not a single muscle in his face twitched. His icy, unfathomable eyes swept over the bodies at his feet, as if assessing a flawed work of art. No flicker of satisfaction, no hint of regret crossed his gaze. He stood there, distant and unshaken, like a detached spectator. He bent down to pick up his cloak. A droplet of blood, clinging to the hem, slid down the fabric before being wiped away with a single motion. He draped it back over his shoulders. His footsteps, steady and resonant, broke the silence that had fallen like a shroud over the site of the carnage. Behind him, the bodies lay still, frozen in their brutal deaths. The blood-soaked cobblestones gleamed faintly under the wavering light. And in that oppressive silence, his final words lingered, etched into the ether like an eternal condemnation: ¡ª¡°You are so fragile.¡±
Beyond the walls, the capital sprawled in all its chaotic frenzy, clinging to the steep slopes of the mountain like an animal clutching rock to avoid a fall. Its narrow, winding streets, resembling tangled veins, formed a labyrinth brimming with life. The cries of merchants rose in an incessant din, their raspy voices competing to catch the attention of passersby. The buildings, made of raw stone and dark wood, stood in an almost haphazard disorder. Some seemed to defy gravity, embedded directly into the steep mountain slopes, while others leaned precariously, as if ready to collapse under their own weight. Their pointed roofs, crowded together, created an uneven mosaic¡ªa sea of gray and black slates. Thana moved forward. The commotion slid off him without leaving a mark, as though an invisible aura repelled the chaos. His steps were precise, steady, and his stride seemed unnaturally fluid amidst the stumbling crowd. Nothing could disturb his determination. His path eventually led him to a narrow, shadowy alley, barely illuminated by the hesitant light of a flickering lantern. There, nestled between two crumbling buildings, was a tavern. The wind-beaten sign creaked like a dismal whisper, and the grimy windows emitted a dim, yellowish light, overshadowed by the shadows dancing within. Thana pushed the door open, and a harsh creak rang out. Conversations gradually died down, as though the air itself absorbed the words. Glances briefly turned toward him, but most patrons quickly averted their eyes. The atmosphere shifted around him. The air grew heavier, almost tangible, and the light from the lanterns dimmed. He stopped in front of the counter. The corpulent man behind the bar raised weary eyes to him, his gaze briefly settling on the visitor before returning to his glass, which he wiped with a mechanical motion. Yet, he could not ignore the overwhelming aura emanating from Thana, and his movements grew hesitant. ¡ª"I¡¯m looking for a woman who controls flames," said Thana. The bartender froze, his face locked in an expression of hesitation. Slowly, he glanced around, ensuring no one was listening, before turning his attention back to Thana. ¡ª"Maybe I know something... or maybe I don¡¯t," he replied, his lips curling into a nervous smile. ¡ª"What do you want?" Thana retorted. ¡ª"Money," answered the bartender. The air around them suddenly vibrated, like an invisible shiver rippling through the room. The bottles on the shelves clinked, and the lanterns flickered. Thana raised his hand, and under the terrified gazes of the patrons, it began to grow. His fingers elongated, twisting into monstrous claws, while his palm expanded, grotesquely oversized. The bartender, paralyzed with fear, opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. The gigantic hand descended upon him, gripping him like a rag doll. The fingers, black and veined with a reddish glow, coiled around his body, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. In a dark corner of the tavern, an old man, wrapped in a tattered cloak, watched the scene without blinking. Unlike the other patrons, who cowered or tried to flee, he showed no fear. His dull eyes fixed on Thana with a strange intensity, as if he recognized in him a power he had faced ¡ªor revered¡ªbefore. His lips moved softly, murmuring words in an ancient, guttural language. As Thana¡¯s monstrous hand tightened its grip around the bartender, the old man tilted his head slightly. ¡ª "If you value your life, tell me what you know," Thana commanded. His voice resonated in the tavern, cold and inhuman, freezing the air. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.The old man stopped murmuring for a moment, his fingers tightening around the table in front of him. A single word escaped his lips: ¡ª "An¡¯kara." The bartender, meanwhile, thrashed helplessly, his legs flailing frantically in the air. His face, distorted by fear, was drenched in sweat, and his voice cracked as he screamed: ¡ª "Yes! Yes!" he finally cried, his voice breaking with panic. "She¡¯s part of the royal guard! You¡¯ll find her in the castle¡ªplease, spare me!" A heavy silence fell. The patrons, frozen in mute horror, stared at Thana, unable to look away from the nightmarish scene. Thana studied the bartender for a moment, as if weighing the value of his words. Then, slowly, inexorably, he closed his hand. The sound that followed was dull. The bartender¡¯s body burst with a wet crack, spraying blood, flesh, and bone across the walls and counter. Fragments rained onto the floor with splatters.
The silence lasted only a moment. Screams erupted almost simultaneously. Patrons bolted toward the exit, overturning tables in their frantic escape, while others, paralyzed with terror, huddled under chairs, their silent prayers lost in the heavy air. Amid the chaos, the old man remained still. Slowly, he rose, his eyes still fixed on Thana. ¡ª "An¡¯kara... You still walk among us," he murmured. Thana, indifferent to his words and to the carnage he left behind, picked up his cloak, carefully shaking off a drop of blood before draping it over his shoulders. As he stepped through the door, a cold draft swept through the room, momentarily extinguishing the lanterns. But as the light timidly returned, something else stirred. The blood-stained floor, littered with debris, began to tremble. At first, it was just a faint quiver, but it grew stronger, becoming a low rumble that seemed to rise from the very bowels of the earth. The remaining patrons froze, their eyes wide with unspeakable horror. A thin, winding crack appeared at the center of the room, widening like a gaping wound on the blood-stained floor. A strange, hot, and fetid breath wafted from it, accompanied by a guttural gurgling. Then, with a terrifying crack, a monstrous mouth emerged. It was grotesque and enormous, lined with uneven fangs that gleamed like obsidian blades under the flickering light. A viscous tongue, as thick as a tree trunk, slithered out of the maw, leaving behind a black, sticky trail. The creature¡¯s lips, rough and cracked, contracted in a slow, unbearable motion, exhaling a stench so vile it caused some of the survivors to stagger. The screams doubled in intensity. A woman tried to run for the door, but the tongue shot out, swift as a whip, wrapping around her waist and yanking her violently into the gaping mouth. Her scream was abruptly silenced with the sound of jaws snapping shut. ¡ª "No... no... mercy!" cried a man, desperately clinging to a table. But the insatiable mouth widened further, consuming everything in its path. Chairs, tables, and even the bodies of the patrons were swallowed one by one, disappearing into the abyss with grotesque sucking noises. In a corner, the old man remained motionless. His eyes, fixed on the creature, were filled with an odd sense of understanding. He spread his arms, as if to embrace his fate, and murmured one last time: ¡ª "An¡¯kara... Your judgment is perfect." The tongue struck him with blinding speed, pulling him into the maw, which snapped shut with a final, resounding clap. Outside, Thana was already walking into the night. Silence fell behind him, heavy and absolute, as if the tavern had never existed. ***** The castle loomed before Thana, imposing and austere, its sharp towers slicing through the sky like claws of stone. The main gate, massive and bristling with rusted iron fittings, stood like a dark maw ready to devour any intruder. Before it, four guards kept watch, their armor glinting in the pale light. The four guards turned toward him. Their sharp gazes assessed the stranger with suspicion, and one of them, taller than the others, stepped forward to block his path. ¡ª "Are you lost, stranger?" he called. Thana did not respond immediately. His calm but piercing eyes slid from the guard to the gate, as if these men were not even worthy of his attention. ¡ª "My name is Mardeh." The guard frowned, crossing his arms over his breastplate. ¡ª "And what do you want here, Thana? Strangers don¡¯t pass through these gates without good reason." ¡ª "I¡¯m looking for a woman who controls fire," Thana replied. The guards exchanged furtive glances. ¡ª "We don¡¯t answer to you," retorted a second guard, his hand already resting on the hilt of his sword. "You have no business here. Turn back to where you came from." Thana allowed a faint, imperceptible smile to cross his face and stepped forward. ¡ª "Stop immediately!" growled the third guard. But Thana did not stop. ¡ª "I don¡¯t need your permission." The guards, enraged by his arrogance, drew their swords. ¡ª "You¡¯ll go no further," one guard threatened. Thana continued forward, his gaze fixed on the gates, as if no obstacle¡ªneither man nor steel¡ª could stand between him and his goal.
The first guard, unable to contain his rage any longer, leapt forward, his sword raised high. With a guttural cry, he brought the blade down with all his strength. It severed Thana¡¯s arm cleanly, sending a geyser of blood spraying across the cobblestones. Yet Thana did not slow. Not a single expression crossed his face. The second guard thrust his sword into Thana¡¯s abdomen. The blade sank to the hilt, but instead of collapsing, Thana planted his feet firmly on the ground and continued to advance. A dark, thick trail of blood marked his path. The guards, frozen in horrified disbelief, watched this mutilated man continue walking, his broken body undeterred. Thana moved forward still, inexorable, an unstoppable force that transcended flesh, fear, and even death. He did not stop. The third guard, seized by a visceral horror at the macabre scene unfolding before him, brandished his spear with desperate resolve. With a cry of rage and terror intermingled, he hurled it with all the strength he could muster. The spear tore through the air and slammed violently into Thana¡¯s shoulder, driving him to the ground. This time, Thana fell. His body seemed to yield under the force of the impact, the spear pinning him to the cold cobblestones as blood slowly seeped from the wound. Yet even on the ground, his face remained impassive. His eyes, fixed, hard, and implacable, never wavered from the massive gates of the castle. ¡ª "He¡¯s completely mad!" shouted the guard, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. His comrades, relieved to see Thana on the ground, burst out laughing as well. But their laughter had a strange edge to it. As they let their guard down, silence fell once more, heavy and oppressive. Thana moved. Slowly, he extended his uninjured arm to grab his severed limb, still lying beside him. The guards'' laughter died instantly, replaced by horrified disbelief. Under their incredulous gazes, Thana repositioned his arm against the bloody stump of his shoulder. What happened next defied all comprehension. Veins coiled around each other, bones snapped back together with dry cracks, and flesh seemed to melt and reform. The blood that had been pouring out moments earlier was drawn back as if by an invisible force, leaving his skin intact, smooth, as though the injury had never existed. The guards stepped back, their faces blanching visibly. One of them muttered, his voice trembling with fear: ¡ª "What... is that?" Thana stood up, the spear still lodged in his shoulder. His icy gaze swept over the guards, not with anger, but with an indifference far more terrifying. He pulled the spear from his shoulder. The blood that briefly seeped from the wound vanished almost instantly. He dropped the spear to the ground, where it clattered like the toll of an impending sentence. Without a word, he took a step forward. The guards were frozen in terror, unable to look away. Thana reached into his cloak, the movement so slow and deliberate it seemed to suspend time itself. When he withdrew his hand, he held a dark green wrought-iron lamp, its intricate engravings shifting and undulating. The tinted glass, threaded with glowing red veins, pulsed faintly. ¡ª "Tick-tock... tick-tock..." Thana paused, his cold smile freezing in place. The lamp trembled in his hand. ¡ª "Not yet," Thana murmured, his eyes dropping to the object. The lamp¡¯s engravings briefly lit up, a vivid pulse coursing through them. The faint murmuring sound transformed into a low hum. The guards recoiled. ¡ª "What... what is that?" one of them stammered, his voice breaking with panic. Before anyone could act, the lamp vibrated violently, and a spiraling green light burst forth. The light twisted, creating a suffocating wave of heat that made the air around them shudder. The three closest guards were caught in a swirling vortex of glowing red energy. Their bodies, gripped by an invisible force, were violently lifted off the ground, suspended in the air. They struggled, desperately flailing, their hands searching for something to hold onto. Their cries, muffled and faint, died out before they could even fully form. Their silhouettes, frozen in postures of terror, were inexorably drawn toward the lamp. Their flesh folded under an overwhelming force, completely absorbed into the object. In an instant, they vanished entirely, swallowed by the red light.
The lamp vibrated intensely in Thana¡¯s hand, emitting a low hum, like a rapidly beating heart, before gradually calming. The engravings etched across its surface briefly glowed with a sinister light, as if inscribing the souls it had just consumed. The last guard, the sole survivor, collapsed to his knees. His trembling hands sought nonexistent support on the icy cobblestones, while his lips murmured incoherent, fragmented prayers, as though his words shattered under the weight of his fear. His gaze, unable to look away, remained fixed on the lamp. The green light flickered, pulsing faintly like a beating heart. Then, suddenly, it intensified. ¡ª "Insufficient," murmured a raspy voice. Thana lifted his head, his gaze settling on the guard. The guard tried to rise, but his legs refused to move, pinned to the ground by a visceral terror. His lips quivered. ¡ª "I¡¯m looking for a woman who controls fire," Thana declared. The guard shook his head frantically, tears streaming from his eyes. But no words escaped his mouth. Thana stepped forward, his shadow stretching unnaturally under the greenish glow of the lamp, enveloping the hapless guard like a shroud. He crouched slowly toward him. ¡ª "Speak," he whispered. The lamp stirred, a vivid flame slipping from the tinted glass, writhing like a serpent as it slithered slowly along the guard¡¯s body. The light penetrated his pupils. His breath hitched, and his body convulsed before going completely rigid. His torso arched, his arms twisted at impossible angles, and his head fell back. His eyes, now devoid of humanity, glowed with a red light. The features of his face, once marked by panic, were frozen into a stoic expression. His mouth opened slowly. ¡ª "Her name is Kendrys..." he finally murmured, his voice now a cavernous whisper, as though emanating from the depths of the lamp. "She is... in the castle... on the seventh floor..." Thana remained motionless. The lamp vibrated violently, its guttural hum growing louder. A burst of green light erupted suddenly, enveloping the frozen guard. He no longer moved, but his body began to change. His skin turned translucent, its color draining completely until it became a diaphanous veil barely clinging to his muscles. The dark veins beneath his flesh began to pulse, each beat following the rhythm of the lamp¡¯s light. They coiled around his limbs like serpents, swollen with an alien, corrosive energy. A sinister crack resounded. His bones, visible beneath the skin now stretched taut like a glass film, shimmered and subtly distorted under an invisible pressure. His joints snapped violently, his fingers twisting into grotesque angles as his hands groped futilely at the empty air. His flesh, seized by an unbearable tremor, began to crack slowly. Thin but deep fissures appeared along his arms and legs, releasing a reddish mist¡ªa blend of vapor and light¡ªthat rose toward the lamp. His muscles, locked in rigid spasms, started to dissolve into ethereal filaments that floated briefly before being absorbed. His face, already frozen in terror, began to deform. His cheeks hollowed, his eyes, unnaturally wide, lost their luster and became two empty sockets glowing with a foreign fire. His lips, twisted into a silent grimace, crumbled like ash, revealing a jaw that dislocated with a dull snap. Every part of his being seemed to resist, as if refusing to be erased, but the lamp was relentless. The guard, now more shadow than man, was suspended between the world of the living and an unknown dimension. His outline blurred, vibrating under the lamp¡¯s intensifying green light, until he fragmented entirely. In one final, blinding burst, his body was sucked away in a sudden, violent motion, as though swallowed into a bottomless void. The emptiness he left behind was absolute: no trace, no imprint on the cobblestones, not even a lingering scent. He had been erased, consumed by the lamp. The lamp¡¯s hum faded gradually, replaced by silence. It grew cold, inert. Thana lowered his gaze to the object, his icy eyes briefly meeting the engravings as if reading a secret only he could understand. Slowly, he ran his fingers across the lamp¡¯s metal, tracing its etched surfaces with deliberate care. ¡ª"Always insatiable," he murmured. He slipped the object back into his cloak. His footsteps echoed heavily on the cobblestones. Thana entered the castle, where activity buzzed around him. The corridors resounded with hurried footsteps of servants, the rustle of fabrics, and the ceaseless murmur of conversations spilling
from adjacent rooms. Silhouettes moved back and forth. Voices rang out intermittently: orders delivered in commanding tones, hushed replies, and the metallic clatter of utensils emanating from a distant kitchen. A servant, his arms laden with linens, bumped into Thana. He collapsed instantly, his body convulsing before his final breath escaped in a sinister gurgle. Thana reached into his cloak and pulled out a small pouch. From it, he withdrew a pinch of silvery dust, which he blew into the air. The dust sparkled briefly before dispersing, carried by a faint breeze. Immediately, a wave of coughing and spasms swept through the castle''s occupants. Servants, guards, and even nobles succumbed, their bodies crumpling like limp dolls onto the cold stone floors. Thana ascended the stairs to the seventh floor. Doors passed by him, each adorned with intricate carvings. When he reached the corridor of the seventh floor, he placed a hand on the stone wall. The next moment, his body faded as if his silhouette dissolved into a translucent mist. He moved forward without hesitation, passing through the wall. On the other side, the stones seemed to tremble slightly, as if protesting the intrusion, before settling back into place behind him. Beyond the wall, Thana found deserted chambers, where dusty beds seemed to await occupants who hadn¡¯t arrived in decades. He continued on and entered a dimly lit room, where a man lay sleeping in a canopy bed. His loud snores echoed through the space, oblivious to the approaching threat. Before the man could open his eyes, a dozen knives shot out from the darkness, slicing through the air before embedding themselves in Thana¡¯s body. The sound of blades piercing flesh resonated, grim and chilling. Three knives lodged into his skull, while the others pierced his torso, arms, and legs. ¡ª "Well done. You spotted me," Thana said, his tone light. Around him, dozens of floating blades hovered in the air like metallic serpents, poised to strike at any moment. ¡ª "Your power is fascinating... but dangerous," Thana added with an amused smile. The man finally opened his eyes. ¡ª "Who are you?" he asked, his voice rough. ¡ª "You don¡¯t really want to know," Thana replied. The man, summoning his strength, focused his power. The knives floating in the room suddenly launched toward Thana. The impact hurled his body against the wall, where he remained pinned, nailed in place by the blades. ¡ª "What do you want?" the man roared. ¡ª "I¡¯m looking for Kendrys," Thana replied. ¡ª "Why?" the man gasped. ¡ª "Because she¡¯s going to do something I won¡¯t like in the future. I need to kill her before it happens." ¡ª "You should worry about your own fate," the man growled. But Thana was already advancing. The knives, still embedded in his flesh, no longer seemed to affect him. His torn skin began to heal itself. ¡ª "Unfortunately for you, you¡¯re going to die," Thana announced. The blades passed through his body, slicing through him as if he were nothing more than an illusion. The man, trembling with rage and terror, instinctively stepped back. Thana extended his hand, his icy fingers brushing the man¡¯s forehead. At that moment, his eyes transformed into shards of pure light, blinding and inhuman. The man convulsed, his body wracked by uncontrollable spasms. A wave of invisible energy crashed down on him, shattering his will like a fragment of glass. ¡ª "I warned you," Thana murmured, a cold smile curling his lips. ¡ª "Where is Kendrys¡¯ room?" Thana asked. ¡ª "Room seven-twenty-nine... but she¡¯s not there." ¡ª "Where is she?" Thana pressed. ¡ª "I... I don¡¯t know..." A sigh of irritation escaped Thana. "How tedious," he muttered, his tone so low it sounded as if he were speaking to himself. He began pacing the room. After a moment, he stopped abruptly. In one fluid motion, he pulled out his lamp. An incandescent light erupted immediately, enveloping the man in a burning spiral.
The man didn¡¯t even have time to scream. His body was consumed in a fraction of a second, swallowed by the luminous vortex. The room fell silent once more. Thana gently ran his fingers over the engraved surface of the lamp. ¡ª "You like that, don¡¯t you?" he asked. The lamp responded with a faint hum. Thana made his way to room seven-twenty-nine. Upon entering, the stark austerity of the space struck his senses. The small, sparse room offered only the bare essentials: a narrow bed, a worn wooden table, and a window letting in the fading twilight. Everything in the room exuded simplicity, except for the desk. The desk was cluttered with personal effects: an empty inkwell, scattered papers, and a hairbrush carelessly set to one side. He picked up the brush, his fingers brushing over its bristles. He turned his gaze toward the window. The city, cloaked in the soft hues of twilight, stretched endlessly before him. Thana stood still for a moment, gazing at the rooftops merging into the growing shadows. But the moment was brief. His attention quickly returned to the desk. He rifled through the papers with growing impatience, flipping them carelessly. The documents revealed nothing of note¡ª mundane reports and unremarkable notes. A faint sigh escaped his lips as he set the papers down. His gaze returned to the brush he still held between his fingers. After a moment of hesitation, he slipped it into his pouch. ¡ª "This might come in handy," he murmured before turning away. 4. Unknown Terrain (Rouis) The square of Brun-le-Comt¨¦ exuded life and harmony. The surrounding gardens burst into a symphony of colors: scarlet tulips, golden daffodils, and bright blue forget-me-nots formed a vibrant tableau. The paved walkways, lined with shrubs trimmed with near-artistic precision, guided passersby with a sense of calm. The soft song of a solitary bird drifted through the air, mingling with the murmur of conversations and the distant creak of carts on cobblestones. At the center of the square, the white marble statue of Helric the Wise stood proudly. Towering four meters tall, it cast a protective shadow over the heart of the city. The king stood with dignity, one hand raised as if to bless or soothe, his face carved with a precision that evoked timeless authority. A sword hung at his belt, and his cape, frozen in eternal motion, added to his grandeur. At his feet, bas-reliefs depicted his greatest achievements: walls as solid as stone, a library housing the world''s knowledge, and peace accords that had spared generations from conflict. Freshly laid flowers surrounded the base of the statue, a testament that his memory still lived on in the hearts of the townsfolk. Rouis was absentmindedly gazing at the statue, searching for a moment of calm amidst the bustle around him, when a feminine figure appeared at the edge of his vision. She moved with grace, her long red hair dancing in the soft sunlight. Each step seemed deliberate, each movement accentuated by her green satin dress, which clung to her form with an elegance that bordered on provocative. Her freckles lit up her face, but it was her eyes¡ªpiercing and inquisitive¡ªthat truly captivated. ¡ª "Rouis?" she called, her voice clear but tinged with a hint of impatience. He nodded silently, without responding. ¡ª "This won¡¯t take long," she continued, her gaze briefly flicking over him, as if evaluating his usefulness, before returning to the statue. Rouis¡¯s fingers instinctively tightened around his bundle, his knuckles whitening slightly. A wave of discomfort crept up his neck, spreading to his temples, while an involuntary twitch shook his shoulders. It wasn¡¯t so much her words that grated on him, but her tone¡ªa blend of superiority and detachment that seemed to dismiss everything in its path. He inhaled slowly, suppressing a biting remark he knew would serve no purpose. ¡ª "My name is Ambre," she said at last, her smile faint but tinged with polite coldness, as though fulfilling an obligation. ¡ª "Let¡¯s go." ¡ª "I haven¡¯t eaten yet," she replied, her tone casual. Rouis didn¡¯t answer. He reached into his bundle and pulled out a piece of stale bread. The bread, hard and dusty, looked more like a relic than an offering. He handed it to her without a word, his expression impassive. Ambre wrinkled her nose slightly, her eyes settling on the item as if it were an indecipherable puzzle. Her expression wavered between thinly veiled disdain and incredulity. ¡ª "Seriously?" she murmured, an ironic smile tugging at her lips. Rouis shrugged indifferently. He bit into the bread, his teeth crunching against its tough surface, before stowing the remainder back in his bundle. It wasn¡¯t the first time he¡¯d encountered such a reaction, and he knew it wouldn¡¯t be the last. Why bother explaining? He retreated into stoic silence, letting unnecessary words die on the edge of his lips. Ambre averted her gaze, her irritated pout betraying a hint of disapproval she seemed unwilling to voice. The sun continued to bathe the square, its rays gently tracing the perfect contours of Helric¡¯s statue. She spun around abruptly and walked briskly, forcing Rouis to quicken his pace to avoid falling behind. The streets, wide and impeccably paved with smooth stones, were flanked by imposing buildings. Their facades boasted wrought-iron balconies and shutters painted in soft pastel hues. Shops lined both sides of the street, proudly displaying their wares behind gleaming windows. Delicate hanging pots and overflowing flower boxes added a lively touch, releasing subtle hints of jasmine and lavender into the air. They passed through the doors of a spacious tea salon, where an atmosphere of refined elegance immediately enveloped them. The interior, spread across two levels, exuded understated sophistication. On the ground floor, small polished wooden tables were carefully arranged around a central basin. Iridescent lotus flowers floated serenely on the water, their reflections dancing on the calm surface under the soft glow of hanging lamps. Waiters in black silk tunics embroidered with delicate patterns moved gracefully between the tables, their steps choreographed with precision. They carried trays bearing steaming teapots set on fine porcelain adorned with intricate floral designs. A majestic living wall, stretching from floor to ceiling, drew the eye¡ªa vibrant mosaic of exotic plants with radiant foliage. Silver ferns shimmered under the light, while purple ivy intertwined with pearly white orchids, exhaling a subtle, soothing fragrance. Upstairs, a dark wooden balcony overlooked the scene, offering a panoramic view of a lush hanging garden. Plush armchairs, upholstered in deep red velvet, were arranged along the railings, inviting visitors to relax. Through large bay windows, the cobblestone alleys of the old town could be seen winding below, bathed in a gentle golden light. A group of about ten women sat near the basin, their laughter ringing out as they shared delicately decorated porcelain plates of cakes. Ambre chose a secluded table and settled herself with elegance, crossing her legs and resting her hands on the polished edge. Rouis paused for a moment, his eyes sweeping the room. He scanned every corner, his shoulders slightly tense, assessing each face and gesture, as if searching for the faintest hint of a hidden threat. Soon, a pale-skinned man dressed in an elegant black suit approached with a measured gait. ¡ª "Have you decided, madam?" he asked, his tone neutral yet marked by a distant politeness. ¡ª "A platter of pastries and a violet infusion," Ambre replied with cold confidence, her gaze already elsewhere. A few minutes later, he returned with a plate overflowing with delicately arranged sweets and a teapot emitting a fine wisp of steam. Without hesitation, Rouis pulled out a chair and sat down across from Ambre, the slight creak of the chair echoing faintly in the hushed room. She slowly lifted her eyes to meet his, her features unmoving, except for a single arched eyebrow betraying her irritation. ¡ª "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice cold but low, as though to avoid drawing attention. ¡ª "I¡¯m sitting," he replied simply. ¡ª "Stand. You¡¯re supposed to protect me," she insisted, her tone weighted with impatience that seemed more directed at herself than him. Rouis gritted his teeth, his fingers briefly brushing the edge of the chair before reluctantly rising to his feet. He stepped back a few paces, positioning himself behind her with his arms crossed. His eyes swept the room. Conversations continued, but here and there, he caught furtive glances and muffled snickers. Nothing seemed to suggest any real threat. Unbothered, Ambre selected a pastry, bringing it to her lips with an almost affected slowness. Rouis averted his gaze, focusing on a distant point to avoid meeting her eyes. ¡ª "Ambre! What a joy to see you!" A voice broke through the subdued murmur of the room, and a short, round woman stepped forward, her bracelets jingling with every movement. Her blonde hair framed an animated face, her bright blue eyes sparkling with excitement. ¡ª "Imelda!" Ambre exclaimed, rising fluidly to greet her with an embrace. Their hug was brief but sincere, marked by a shared smile. Imelda grasped Ambre¡¯s hands, holding them gently before taking a seat beside her. ¡ª "When are you leaving?" she asked, her fingers absently toying with a shimmering bracelet on her wrist. ¡ª "Today," Ambre replied, adjusting the fold of her dress, her tone as light as a breath. Imelda sighed softly, her cheeks flushing faintly. ¡ª "I wish I could come with you to the capital," she said, a glimmer of envy in her eyes. ¡ª "So do I. But I¡¯ll bring you back something," Ambre promised, her smile warming her features. Imelda chuckled softly, tilting her head slightly. "Blue silk from the north, perhaps?" Imelda asked, a playful note in her voice. ¡ª "Of course," Ambre replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Imelda leaned forward slightly to pick an assortment of candied fruits, her movements measured yet delicate. The two women exchanged a knowing glance. ¡ª "We need to leave," Rouis interjected calmly but firmly, breaking their exchange. Both women turned to him, their smiles fading slightly. Imelda raised an eyebrow, amusement gleaming in her eyes. ¡ª "Is he your escort?" she asked, her tone laced with mischief. "He¡¯s tall but scrawny." Ambre let out a soft laugh, shaking her head gently. ¡ª "And yet, he came highly recommended," she replied with a playful wink. The two women burst into laughter, their crystalline tones contrasting sharply with Rouis¡¯s stoic expression. Without a word, he approached the table, grabbed a pastry, and bit into it. Silence fell immediately around them. ¡ª "How rude!" Imelda exclaimed, her lips pressing together as her gaze oscillated between disdain and amusement. Ambre blushed faintly, averting her eyes while smoothing an imaginary crease on her dress. ¡ª "Let¡¯s go," Rouis said, his voice low but resolute. He grabbed Ambre¡¯s arm to prompt her to stand, his gesture lacking finesse. Before she could move, Imelda sprang to her feet, her bracelets jangling loudly. ¡ª "You have no right!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the subdued ambiance of the salon. In a swift motion, her hand flew up and struck Rouis¡¯s face with a sharp slap that echoed to the far corners of the room. The murmurs around them ceased instantly. A nearby patron carefully placed her teacup down, her gaze fixed on the scene. Rouis didn¡¯t flinch. His face remained expressionless, but a glacial glint flashed in his eyes, like a shard of glass catching cold light. His posture was rigid, his shoulders slightly tense, and his fists clenched. Two servers appeared quickly, stopping a few steps away. Instinctively, Rouis¡¯s hand drifted toward the hilt of the dagger concealed beneath his belt. The familiar feel of leather against his fingers offered a fleeting sense of control, but he stopped just short of drawing it, his gaze locked on Imelda. She met his eyes, and for a moment, a shadow of doubt crossed her face. Her previously quick, indignant breaths slowed slightly, as though she hesitated. Her cheeks, still flushed with emotion, betrayed an uncomfortable mix of determination and uncertainty. The tension between them was almost palpable, like a taut rope ready to snap. Three more servers suddenly emerged from the shadows, their steps perfectly synchronized. Their straight, black silhouettes formed a silent yet imposing line in front of Rouis, creating a human barrier that seemed to silently declare: Not a step further.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡ª "Stop!" Ambre shouted, her voice slicing through the silence like a shard of shattered glass. She rushed toward Rouis, her face marked by an urgency she struggled to conceal. Her fingers gripped his arm, digging into his skin with an almost desperate strength. Through the fabric of his shirt, her nails left red marks. ¡ª "I..." he began. ¡ª "Be quiet," Ambre murmured through clenched teeth. Rouis¡¯s shoulders stiffened at her response, but she didn¡¯t release his arm. Instead, she gave it a small tug. ¡ª "Are you all right, madam?" one of the servers asked. His pale face and respectful tone were weighed down by a distrust he made no effort to hide. Ambre nodded slowly, holding back a sigh. Her lips formed a forced smile, but her briefly averted gaze betrayed her unease. ¡ª "Yes, everything is fine," she replied, her tone firmer than she intended, as if she were trying to convince both the man and herself. The servers exchanged a quick glance before stepping back in perfect unison. Their eyes, however, remained fixed on Rouis, their stares heavy like an invisible shadow. Rouis, still motionless, finally released his grip on the hilt of his dagger. His arm fell slowly to his side, though his fist remained slightly clenched. A thin trickle of blood dripped from a shallow cut on his forearm, landing on the white marble floor with a striking crimson splash, like a flaw on an otherwise perfect painting. Taking a deep breath, Rouis guided Ambre toward the exit with measured, almost mechanical movements. Though controlled, his actions radiated a quiet tension, like a coiled spring ready to snap. Cool air enveloped them as they stepped outside, but the atmosphere between them remained strangely heavy. ¡ª "I¡¯m sorry," he murmured at last, his voice rough and low. Ambre turned her head slightly toward him, her face still locked in an inscrutable expression. Her lips trembled for a moment, but no words came. She eventually gave him a brief nod. Rouis slowed his pace slightly, glancing back now and then to ensure she was following. There was no urgency to their walk, yet the silence between them seemed to stretch time itself. Neither of them made any effort to fill the void that hung heavily over their shoulders. Still, a faint sigh escaped Ambre¡¯s lips, so soft it might have gone unnoticed. That fragile sound, almost a whisper, revealed the faintest crack in the tension. Rouis pushed open the creaking door of a small stable on the outskirts of town, holding it for Ambre before stepping inside. The space smelled of fresh hay and tanned leather, a scent Ambre greeted with a visible grimace. Her meticulously polished boots sank slightly into the earthy floor, and she instinctively lifted the hem of her dress to keep it from brushing the dust. ¡ª "Surely we could have found something better," she muttered, her gaze sweeping over the modest stalls where a few horses stirred gently. Rouis didn¡¯t respond, focusing instead on evaluating the animals. His attention settled on a sturdy brown stallion, its coat faintly glistening under the flickering light filtering through the gaps in the wooden walls. A white star marked its forehead, and its well-defined muscles spoke of quiet strength. The stable hand, an old man with a face weathered by time, approached with a slight limp. ¡ª "Strong, steady, and built for long journeys," he said, patting the horse¡¯s neck. ¡ª "It¡¯ll do," Rouis replied, handing over the agreed-upon payment. Standing a few steps away, Ambre crossed her arms, her gaze shifting between the horse and Rouis. ¡ª "You¡¯re kidding, right? That horse is huge. How am I supposed to get on it?" Rouis glanced at her, a barely perceptible smile tugging at his lips. ¡ª "With a bit of effort," he replied, taking the reins. He led the animal out of the stable, where the fading daylight brought out the warm tones of its coat. Once outside, Rouis mounted in one smooth motion before extending a hand to Ambre. She looked at him as though he were asking her to scale a mountain. ¡ª "Seriously? You couldn¡¯t have picked a carriage or, I don¡¯t know, something more comfortable?" ¡ª "Not an option," Rouis replied calmly but firmly. "Now get on." Ambre groaned but eventually took his hand, hauling herself up with an awkwardness that earned an amused sigh from Rouis. Once seated behind him, her hands gripped his waist with noticeable stiffness. ¡ª "You could warn me before you start moving!" she snapped as the horse began to trot leisurely down the path. ¡ª "And you could stop complaining," he replied without looking back. Their progress was punctuated by the rhythmic sound of hooves on packed earth, a steady beat that seemed to soothe everything except Ambre¡¯s persistent irritation. ¡ª "This saddle is uncomfortable. My legs hurt," she continued, her voice cutting through the calm of the twilight. ¡ª "You can always walk," Rouis suggested, the smile in his voice betraying his sarcasm. Ambre fell silent for a moment before mumbling something unintelligible. The road stretched ahead of them, bordered by tall grasses and bushes, while the first shadows of the forest loomed on the horizon. The sun, sinking slowly, cast golden hues over the trees, and the air carried a refreshing coolness. Ambre shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. ¡ª "If we fall, it¡¯ll be your fault," she added eventually. ¡ª "Then hold on tight," Rouis retorted, shrugging slightly. He guided the horse with confidence, his eyes fixed on the winding path that gradually disappeared into the shadow of the woods. The silence, occasionally broken by Ambre¡¯s sighs and remarks, wasn¡¯t oppressive. As the day wore on, the forest enveloped them with a presence that felt almost alive. The towering, twisted trees stood like ancient sentinels, their gnarled branches intertwining into an oppressive canopy that filtered the sunlight. What light remained fell in scattered beams, casting shifting patterns of shadow on the forest floor, blanketed with dead leaves and withered ferns. The air was thick with the scent of moss and damp earth¡ªheavy, yet strangely comforting. At each step, the rustling of blackthorn bushes added an undercurrent of tension, like a whispered warning from the forest itself. By dusk, the sky blazed with hues of purple and gold, and the shadows of the trees stretched long across the path. Rouis slowed the horse and stopped near a small clearing. He dismounted effortlessly, his boots sinking slightly into the soft earth. Turning to Ambre, he extended his hand. ¡ª "Get down," he said simply. Ambre raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. ¡ª "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice teetering between annoyance and a faint trace of worry she tried to mask. ¡ª "We¡¯re going to eat and rest," he replied, unfastening the pack secured to the saddle. "Now, get down." Ambre stared at him skeptically, then cast an incredulous glance around. ¡ª "Here?" she repeated, disbelief dripping from her voice as she gestured vaguely at the forest surrounding them. ¡ª "Yes, here," he replied calmly, though an ironic glint danced in his eyes. She pressed her lips together. ¡ª "You couldn¡¯t find somewhere more¡­ civilized?" ¡ª "Get down," he insisted, this time more firmly. With an exasperated sigh, Ambre grabbed his hand. Rouis guided her down gently, but she wobbled slightly as her feet hit the ground. ¡ª "It¡¯s uneven," she grumbled, adjusting her dress. "And dirty." Rouis allowed himself an amused smile. ¡ª "Welcome to the forest." She shot him a furious look, but he was already unloading the horse, seemingly unfazed by her growing irritation. ¡ª "Go gather some firewood," he added simply, without giving her any further attention. ¡ª "Excuse me?" she asked, her gaze defiant. ¡ª "Branches," he repeated. "For the fire. Unless you¡¯d prefer to sleep in the dark." Ambre crossed her arms, her clenched fists betraying her rising frustration. ¡ª "Fine," she muttered at last. She glared at him for a moment, her brows knitted, before turning on her heel with an exaggerated sigh. Her heavy steps crunched through the dead leaves underfoot, her straight back radiating a pride she was determined to maintain. Her figure quickly vanished into the trees, swallowed by the growing darkness. As she walked off, Rouis tied the horse securely to a sturdy trunk, knotting the reins with care. He gathered a few stones and arranged them into a circle for the fire, then lit it with practiced ease. Flames burst to life, casting flickering light across the trunks and pushing back the shadows that had begun to gather around them. Ambre returned shortly after, her arms laden with branches that she dropped noisily beside the fire. Strands of hair clung to her sweat-dampened forehead, and she avoided meeting Rouis¡¯s gaze. ¡ª "Here," she said curtly. Unfazed, Rouis handed her a bowl containing a simple mixture of meat and grains that he had been cooking over the fire. A light steam rose from it, carrying the aromas of roasted meat and toasted grains. ¡ª "Here," he said, a sly smile playing at his lips. Ambre stared at the contents of the bowl, a look of disgust etched across her face. ¡ª "I¡¯m not eating that," she declared curtly. ¡ª "That?" Rouis replied, raising an eyebrow, his tone feigning innocent confusion. ¡ª "That¡­ thing," she clarified, waving her hand in the air as if trying to dispel an unbearable odor. Rouis shrugged, visibly unaffected by her disdain. ¡ª "Suit yourself," he said simply. He took back the bowl and sat by the fire. Each bite was a comforting blend of warmth and simplicity, and he made no effort to hide his enjoyment, savoring the meal with exaggerated slowness. Ambre sat at a distance, arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the flickering flames. She seemed lost in thought, and for once, she said nothing. Once he was done, Rouis stood, pulled a worn sleeping bag from his pack, and held it out to Ambre. ¡ª "Here," he said plainly. Ambre looked up at him, hesitating for a moment. She brushed the fabric lightly with her fingers before taking it, her movements cautious and filled with suspicion. ¡ª "And you?" she asked, her tone softening slightly. ¡ª "I don¡¯t need it," he replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. She stared at him, incredulous. ¡ª "You¡¯re going to hurt yourself," she murmured, her voice wavering between concern and sarcasm. Rouis shrugged, a hint of amusement in his gaze. ¡ª "You¡¯ve never slept on fresh grass under the stars?" he teased with a soft laugh. Ambre flushed slightly and averted her eyes. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, she turned her head and said brusquely: ¡ª "Turn around." Rouis complied, turning slowly, the corner of his mouth still curved in a sly smile. But just before fully looking away, he cast a quick glance over his shoulder. The sleeping bag struck his back with a dull thud. ¡ª "I told you not to look!" she shouted, her voice trembling between anger and embarrassment. ¡ª "I thought you were finished," he replied with a chuckle. Ambre, red with frustration, turned her back on him. Rouis, meanwhile, stepped away slightly, his senses alert. The distant rustling of leaves and the occasional crackle of burning wood were the only sounds breaking the night¡¯s silence. Other than their footprints, everything seemed calm. When Rouis returned to the camp, Ambre was lying in the sleeping bag, her face partially hidden by the fabric. Her eyes, however, remained wide open, following the hypnotic flicker of the flames. ¡ª "Aren¡¯t you cold?" he asked, sitting near the fire, his gaze sweeping cautiously around them. She shook her head. ¡ª "Tell me a story," she said suddenly, her voice soft, almost hesitant. Rouis stared at her, surprised by the request. ¡ª "I¡¯m not your entertainer," he replied. Ambre turned her eyes away, but her shoulders quivered slightly. That¡¯s when Rouis noticed the silent tears rolling down her cheeks. He let out a deep sigh, running a hand over his tired face. ¡ª "Fine," he said at last, his voice heavy with weariness. He let the silence stretch for a moment, staring into the flames as if searching for the words in their flickering dance. When he finally spoke, his tone was neutral, almost detached, as if recounting someone else¡¯s story: ¡ª "The first time I broke a jaw, I was twelve or thirteen. I was with a friend... a real brat. We¡¯d ventured into some grimy underground tunnel to steal jewelry." Ambre, intrigued, propped herself up slightly in the sleeping bag, resting her head on her hand. Her eyes, illuminated by the firelight, were filled with an almost childlike curiosity. ¡ª "Do you still keep in touch with her?" she asked, her tone betraying a mix of excitement and hope. Rouis slowly turned his head toward her, his gaze hardening, growing colder. ¡ª "She¡¯s dead," he said icily, each word falling with an implacable weight. Ambre¡¯s enthusiasm vanished instantly. She froze for a moment, her features marked by awkward shock. Her hand instinctively moved to her arm, an unconscious gesture to hide her discomfort. ¡ª "Aren¡¯t you sad?" she murmured. ¡ª "No," he replied simply, his tone devoid of warmth. Ambre furrowed her brow slightly, staring at him as if trying to decipher the meaning behind the words he wasn¡¯t saying. ¡ª "You have no heart," she said finally, her voice a mix of reproach and disappointment. A bitter smile flickered briefly on Rouis¡¯s lips. ¡ª "Maybe not," he admitted, before turning his gaze away. "Anyway, we were in the tunnel and had just stolen the jewelry..." ¡ª "I¡¯m not interested anymore," Ambre interrupted sharply. She turned onto her side, her back to him, with deliberate brusqueness. ¡ª "Good night," she added curtly, punctuating her words with a mock snore to signal the end of the conversation. Rouis watched her for a moment, his eyes fixed on her unmoving back. Then, he lay down on the cold grass, crossing his arms behind his head, and let his gaze drift to the stars. Sleep eluded him. The night was quiet¡ªalmost too quiet. The fire crackled softly, its flickering light casting dancing shadows on the surrounding tree trunks. After a long while, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small amulet. Made of copper, it was oval in shape with irregular edges, as though hastily carved. Its surface was etched with intricate spiral patterns, which seemed to capture the firelight, shifting between a deep coppery brown and a pale, almost ethereal green. Rouis turned it slowly between his fingers. Each motion stirred a buried sensation, an echo from a time he preferred to leave behind. His features, so firm just moments earlier, softened slightly, betraying a weariness far deeper than mere physical exhaustion. A faint rustling behind him broke Rouis from his contemplation. He turned his head slightly, his muscles instinctively tensing. In the shadows of the bushes, a bird stood motionless, its small dark feathers almost blending with the gloom. Its eyes shone like two bright specks. Rouis remained still, his senses on alert, but the bird, after a brief hesitation, spread its wings with a sharp flutter. The light breeze from its takeoff stirred the dead leaves on the ground before it vanished into the darkness above the trees, leaving the night to reclaim its fragile stillness. Haunted Count Lives in isolation, far from the noise of the crowd. It¡¯s been ages since he last stepped outside, His true nature he keeps well hidden beneath his collar. They say he is a demon who devours men, That he thirsts for blood and flesh. In the darkness, he prowls and waits, To lure his prey with cunning and deceit. There are days when cries can be heard, Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.Screams, howls, and wails of terror. But no one knows where they come from, Nor why the Haunted Count utters them. There are days when lights are seen, Flames and flashes illuminating the tower. But no one knows what occurs up there, Nor why the Haunted Count ignites them. There are days when laughter echoes, Songs resounding in the air. But no one knows who sings them, Nor why the Haunted Count hears them. The Haunted Count, in his tower so high, Lives in isolation, far from the noise of the crowd. It¡¯s been ages since he last stepped outside, His true nature he keeps well hidden beneath his collar. They say the Haunted Count is a demon, A prisoner of his own instincts. But no one truly knows. The Warrior Princess The Warrior Princess, so brave and proud, With her sword, she fought for her people. But when the time came to give life, Death claimed her, leaving behind an immortal child. This baby, so full of promise, Vanished into the shadows. No one knows where he went, Or what he became¡ªit remains a complete mystery.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. The princess is gone, but her legend endures, And her immortal child has become an enigma. People still speak of him, wondering If he left for another world or if he lingers still, somewhere. Some say he is a savior, Others claim he is a monster. But one thing is certain¡ªhe is the son Of a warrior princess who gave her life for her kingdom and her family. Her name will forever remain in memory.