《The Mark of Death》


 Chapter 001: Birth Mark

    I tiptoed through the forest, my soft leather soles barely disturbing the underbrush. Our quarry¡ªa magnificent, if aging stag¡ªwas barely visible through the intervening foliage. The creature had his back to us, unaware of the danger creeping up on him. Slowly, I nocked an arrow to my bow and, inch by inch, began to raise it.


    I got you now, I thought.


    ¡°Bael, is this wise?¡± a too-loud voice whispered from a step behind.


    Biting back a curse, I whipped my bow all the way erect, pulled back on the bowstring, and released, all in one fluid motion.


    Only for my arrow to fly wide.


    Adron¡¯s ill-timed words had given the stag all the warning it needed to escape. ¡°God dammit,¡± I cursed.


    Adron shrank back, his face growing alarm. ¡°What is it? What are you shooting at? Is it a darkspawn?¡± He half-turned, ready to flee. ¡°I knew coming out here was a mistake. We should never have¡ª¡±


    ¡°Enough, Ado,¡± I said, my quiet words cutting through his incipient panic. ¡°That was no darkspawn.¡±


    ¡°No?¡± he asked, not looking entirely reassured. ¡°What was it then?¡±


    ¡°A stag.¡± I held the blond youth¡¯s gaze. ¡°You know, the thing we came out here hunting.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± he said, deflating. ¡°Did you get it?¡± he asked, trying to peer past me.


    ¡°Of course not,¡± I growled, barely reining in my temper enough to muffle my words. Our quarry had not been a darkspawn, but that was not to say there were no darkspawn in the vicinity. You could never be too careful in the woods, and even as close as we were to the city, the danger was all too real.


    Adron winced, seeing the anger writ clearly across my face.


    I sighed. But it was no use blaming the other youth. It was my fault. I was the one who had convinced him to accompany me outside the city limits. I should have known better. Adron was no woodsman. And worse yet, fear had dodged his steps ever since we¡¯d stepped outside the palisade walls.


    ¡°So¡­ do we follow it?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°No, that stag is long gone by now. We¡¯ve no choice now but to return to Erast.¡±


    A mix of emotions crossed my companion¡¯s face, all easy to read. On the one hand, Adron was glad to be heading back to the safety of the city. On the other, no stag meant no supper tonight.


    And not just for me and him but for everyone who depended on my hunts to feed them.


    Ah well, I thought, what¡¯s one more night spent on an empty supper?  I¡¯d experienced more than my fair share of them in my short life already, after all. ¡°Come on,¡± I said, tugging on the other youth¡¯s arms. ¡°Let¡¯s head home.¡±


    We emerged from the dense forest with the crisp sound of leaves crunching beneath our boots. Adron heaved a sigh of relief as his eyes caught sight of Erast in the distance, its towering walls and ramparts glistening in the midday sun.


    The sight of Erast always left me in awe. Stronghold and city both, it was a bastion against the darkspawn. Its walls were so high they seemed to touch the sky itself. Soldiers patrolled the ramparts, their steely gaze scouring the forests besieging the city. At equidistant intervals, towers jutted out like giant spears reaching for the heavens, their surfaces gleaming from the sunlight that bounced off of them. The city was a testament to human resilience, a beacon in a world nearly overrun by darkness.


    But it was not to the magnificent stronghold that Erast that our weary feet were set toward. My gaze dropped lower to the Low Quarter¡ªErast¡¯s shadow and ugly sibling. The Low Quarter was a walled compound, and even calling it that much was being overly generous. City slums would be more accurate.


    The Quarter stood in stark contrast to the resplendence above. Bedraggled and rundown, what few defenses it had were weak and easily penetrable, and it was only by dint of its position at Erast¡¯s feet that the Low Quarter had survived had long as it had. Its muddy streets brimmed with refugees, people who¡¯d lost everything to the darkspawn and who could now afford no better than makeshift tents to while away their days.


    But whatever else the Low Quarter was, it was home. My home and Adron¡¯s, as well as that of the other Staril refugees.


    Beginning our descent down the hilltop we stood on, Adron and I made our way toward the Quarter¡¯s main gates. The gate, like the walls of the compound itself, was formed from sharpened wooden tree trunks tightly bound together. While the resources the Staril refugees had were scarce, wood was plentiful, and we¡¯d done our best to fortify the compound¡¯s walls and gates.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    It¡¯s too bad Erast¡¯s council didn¡¯t let us build cabins, I lamented.


    Then we would have had proper homes to live in and not be confined to ramshackled shacks. But the city council had refused to countenance that, saying it would make the quarter too big. My mouth twisted in disgust. A poor excuse if there ever was one. Personally, I thought, they liked that we were weak and vulnerable. It kept us pliable and if the darkspawn ever came in numbers large enough to threaten Erast, it would be at the Low Quarter they would strike first.


    We reached the gate without mishap, but before we could hail the guards, Adron pulled me to a halt just outside the deep ditch circling the compound. ¡°Bael,¡± he said soberly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°For what?¡± I asked, taken aback by his sudden solemnity.


    ¡°I ruined our hunt,¡± he confessed, his head bowed in embarrassment. ¡°I know how much what you do means.¡± He laughed ruefully. ¡°Heck, my stomach knows it too!¡±


    I chuckled, in an attempt to make light of the matter. ¡°Ado,¡± I said clapping him on the back good-naturedly, ¡°there will be other hunting trips.¡±


    Adron wasn¡¯t fooled by my casual dismissal of the failed hunt; he saw right through my polite lies. Other hunts would not stop people from going hungry today. Or children starving. But before he could say more, a pair of gate guards poked their heads over the wall. Each one wore patchy armor that had seen better days. Their spears were nothing to shout about either and were more like oversized needles than proper weapons. The duo recognized us, though, and with barely a passing nod of acknowledgment, they swung open the heavy wooden gates with grunts of effort.


    Once inside, Adron turned to me again. ¡°Today is the day, isn''t it?¡± he asked, his gaze flicking to the intricate tattoo on my neck.


    Unconsciously, my hand rose to feel out the small and indecipherable image staining my skin. But it was no tattoo. It was a Birth Mark, one that marked me as a Champion. Future Champion, I amended. I was not one yet. ¡°Yes,¡± I confirmed. ¡°It¡¯s my birthday.¡±


    ¡°I thought so,¡± Adron murmured, a strange blend of anxiety and anticipation in his eyes.


    I understood his concern. Today was my twentieth birthday¡ªand the day I would be inducted into the System. It was the day I transitioned from candidate champion to full Champion. And it was the day the System would finally begin speaking to me. Not saying anything, I did my best to still the nervous fluttering in my stomach. There was nothing to be afraid of. Nothing I hadn¡¯t prepared for.


    ¡°Will you be leaving the city?¡± Adron asked when I remained silent. ¡°Or does it only mean that you will be¡ª¡± his gaze drifted to Erast¡¯s high stone walls, visible from nearly every point in the Quarter¡ª¡°relocating?¡±


    I was the only candidate champion in the Low Quarter. And that was no mistake. It was by design.


    What Erast¡¯s council had in store for me beyond today and whether I would even comply with their wishes¡­ I shook my head. I hadn¡¯t thought things through that far yet. Preparing for today and doing everything I could to help keep the Staril refugees alive had been the sum total of the calculations I had time for.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Ado,¡± I said quietly. I held his gaze. ¡°But whatever happens, know this¡ªI won¡¯t abandon the Low Quarter. These are my people, just as much as they are yours. I won¡¯t forget them. No matter where my path leads me.¡±


    The words hung heavy in the air between us, a promise made¡ªand accepted.


    ¡°Good,¡± Adron said and resumed walking.


    Adron and I parted ways after, him to inform his family there would be no supper tonight, and me¡­. and me to my own taskmaster. As I strode through the muddy streets, I studied the people around me.


    Each face told a tale of its own, every wrinkle and scar was a story of hardship and resilience. The Low Quarter was not so much a place but a family. The Staril refugees had carved out a life for themselves here despite the utter desolation of their home city and the scorn of their new one. Erast had been far from welcoming, but it had not spurned the refugees from Staril altogether, which counted for something at least.


    Women gutted fish by the riverside, their hands moving with practiced ease, while children chased each other through the muddy streets, their laughter piercing the morning haze. A group of old men huddled around a makeshift fire pit, their gnarled hands clasped around steaming bowls of thin broth. Ado¡¯s father was there, too, sawing away at a chunk of wood in an attempt to shape something useful out of the unyielding material. Across the street, I could see young Trinna haggling with an elf trader about the price of dried herbs.


    With every step I took into this labyrinthine heart of Staril¡¯s nearly forgotten citizens, I could feel my own tension and anxiety seeping away. These were my people¡ªthe mothers whose stories I heard at nightfall under the twinkling stars, the children whose antics often brought a smile to my face, the old men and women who lectured me incessantly¡ªbut good-naturedly¡ªabout the dangers of the darkspawn and how to do things differently this time around.


    As I moved deeper into the heart of the Low Quarter, the sights and sounds became more intense. It reassured me, too. Despite the undoubted hardship of life in the Low Quarter, there was a vibrancy to its people that refused to be dimmed.


    Even in their threadbare clothes that clung desperately to their bony frames, there was an indomitable spirit in each one of them. They had been beaten back by the darkspawn, robbed of their homes, and left destitute, yet they were uncowed, unbowed.


    These are my people, I thought, the words ringing in my mind anew and resonating deep in my soul.


    Walking among them, I felt a familiar warmth spread through my chest¡ªa sense of belonging that came not from shared blood but from shared hardship. These people had raised me and taught me. Every stride I took was because of them. Whatever I became, it would be as a result of their teachings.


    Protecting them was not just my responsibility; it was my duty¡ªone I would carry out until my last breath. And as I watched an old woman distribute slices of bread to hungry children with a toothless smile, I realized it was also my privilege. For these were not just survivors¡ªthey were warriors, each with an unyielding spirit I hoped to emulate one day.


    The weight of the coming change lingered in my mind, but it was not dread that I felt. It was anticipation¡ªa fervent hope that it would do more than create a gulf between me and my people. That I could be their Champion.


    I may not know what Erast¡¯s council had in store for me or where my path would lead, but one thing was clear¡ªI belonged here, among these people. Among my people. And no matter where destiny took me or what challenges lay ahead, this would always be home.

 Chapter 002: The Silver Foursome

    The Staril council hall loomed before me.


    I snorted derisively. It was a grandiose-sounding name for what was only an oversized log cabin, after all. The only permanent structure in the Quarter, the building rose above the surrounding tents, its wooden walls weathered silvery gray. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, carrying the scent of burning pine and something else¡ªsomething earthier, like damp soil. The roof was a patchwork of overlapping logs, sealed with moss and tar, and the door, though sturdy, hung slightly ajar as if inviting in the fresh summer air.


    I pushed the door open, knowing already that I was late for the day¡¯s lessons. Marak wouldn¡¯t say anything¡ªhe never did¡ªbut I would feel the sting of his anger nonetheless, if not from his sharp tongue, then certainly from the side of his quick blade. I smiled grimly. But after more than ten years of relentless training under the old elf, I was not the easy mark I¡¯d once been, and today, I vowed the weaponmaster would land no blows.


    The inside of the hall was dim, the rays filtering in through narrow slits in the walls that served as windows being too meager to flood its depths with light. Having anticipated the dimness, I paused in the doorway while my eyes adjusted.


    The scent of old wood and the faint tang of pipe smoke hung heavy in the air. The room itself was sparsely furnished. Woven reed mats covered the floor. A single large hearth dominated the far wall, and empty benches lined the left and right walls.


    The rest of the hall was not as vacant as I expected, though. At the soft hum of voices coming from the far corner, I turned my gaze that way to the low wooden table set there. Marak was present, of course. But so, too, were my other three mentors: Hengar, Borin, and Elinor.


    A stifled a groan, realizing what their presence foretold.


    Knowing there was no escaping the scolding that awaited me, I stiffened my spine and strode boldly into the hall, studying the four while I did.


    Marak sat with his back to me, his whipcord frame ramrod straight, and his skin appearing more black than green that was its true color in the poor light. The elf¡¯s silver hair was pulled back into a tight braid, and his hands rested on the hilts of his twin daggers, a habit he¡¯d never broken. Beside him, Hengar slouched forward, his enormous frame folded into a chair that seemed entirely too small for him. His eyes, pale and almost colorless, flicked up as I entered, but he said nothing, his expression unreadable.


    Borin¡¯s face, on the other hand, was all too easy to decipher. The dwarf¡¯s broad face was red with indignation, and his bushy gray beard was practically quivering as he gestured sharply at me with one meaty hand. He was already muttering to himself, too¡ªnever a good sign. Elinor, seated to his left, was a study in contrast. Her eyes were soft and brimmed with worry. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, and her white hair was pulled back into a loose bun, with only a few strands escaping to frame her round face.


    The silver foursome, I had called them once. And though the epithet had been made in jest, it was unfortunately all too true. All four were old for their species. Elinor and Hengar were both in their sixties, Borin was approaching a hundred, and although Marak wouldn¡¯t reveal his age, I was certain he¡¯d seen one hundred and forty already.


    A twinge of sadness passed through me. Soon, I will lose even them.


    Suppressing the emotion, I stopped a yard from the table and rested my hands on my hips. ¡°So,¡± I said, trying to keep my tone light despite the knot forming in my gut. ¡°What¡¯s this? A welcoming committee?¡±


    Marak turned his head, his piercing eyes narrowing as he took in my disheveled state. I¡¯d not taken the time to clean up before coming here¡ªa mistake I would soon regret, I suspected¡ªand the marks of the forest still clung to me.


    The elf¡¯s gaze lingered on a particular large smudge of dirt on my cheek before shifting to the faint tear in my sleeve. ¡°You look like you¡¯ve been crawling through a thorn bush,¡± he commented dryly.


    I winced. The observation was all too acute, but I wished Marak had kept it to himself. His words would only give Borin a target for his displeasure.


    ¡°I suspect he was doing just that,¡± Borin growled, latching on to the weaponmaster¡¯s remarks. The dwarf¡¯s brows furrowed into a single, formidable line. ¡°And where do you suppose he would¡¯ve found a thorn bush inside the Quarter?¡±


    I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest. ¡°Borin¡ª¡±


    ¡°You went out again,¡± Borin cut in, his voice rising. He slammed a hand on the table, making the cutlery set on it jump. ¡°Today of all days! Do you have any idea what you¡¯ve done?¡±


    ¡°I went for a walk,¡± I said, trying to keep my voice even. ¡°That¡¯s all. I needed some air.¡±


    ¡°A walk?¡± Borin spat, his face turning redder and his beard bristling. ¡°A walk in the forest? A walk outside the palisade walls where the Erast Council expressly forbid you to go? That¡¯s all you say?¡± His hand thumped down again. ¡°You¡¯re the heir for Odeon¡¯s sake, Bael Staril! You can¡¯t just¡­ just gallivant around whenever you wish! Do you have any idea of the risks you¡¯re taking? Of the responsibility you carry?¡±


    ¡°Responsibility?¡± I repeated, my own voice rising despite myself. ¡°You¡¯re always going on about responsibility, but you never listen when I tell you what needs doing!¡±


    ¡°Need?¡± Borin barked, his chair scraping against the floor as he surged to his feet. ¡°You don¡¯t know the first thing about need! What the people need is a leader. Not you lying dead is some godforsaken ditch!¡±


    ¡°What they need is food!¡± I shot back. ¡°How many times do I have to say it? Unless we can secure a plentiful source of food, our people will never¡ª¡±


    ¡°Boy, you¡¯re not telling me anything I don¡¯t already know,¡± Borin roared. ¡°But it¡¯s not your place to feed us. You¡¯re the son of Reya Staril, for the love of all that¡¯s holy!¡±


    My face drained of color at the mention of my mother¡¯s name. ¡°Don¡¯t you drag¡ª¡±


    ¡°Enough!¡± Elinor snapped, her voice cut through the room like a whip. The matronly old woman almost never raised her voice, but when she did, no one failed to heed her. Falling silent, both Borin and I turned her way.


    Elinor rose from her seat, her frail frame trembling. ¡°Borin, you¡¯ve no call bringing the boy¡¯s mother into this.¡± She turned furious eyes on me. ¡°And Bael, you should know better. You do know better.¡±


    I looked away, not meeting her gaze.


    ¡°Now, sit down the both of you and stop this foolishness,¡± she said.


    The room fell silent, the only sound the soft crackle of the hearth. Borin¡¯s chest was still heaving, but he subsided, muttering under his breath as he sat back down. Elinor turned to me, her expression softening, but there was a warning in her eyes, too. ¡°Sit, Bael,¡± she said quietly, gesturing to the empty chair across from her. ¡°We need to talk.¡±


    I hesitated for a moment, then relented, dropping into the chair with a sigh. The wood creaked under me, and I leaned back, trying to look as nonchalant as possible despite the tension in the room.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    As I sat there, my mind wandered over what the four represented. The silver foursome, I called them. But they were more than that, more than the only family I¡¯d known, more than unrelenting taskmasters who plied me every day with lessons on statecraft, fighting, lore, the System, and so on and so on¡­ they were also the only leaders the Staril refugees had remaining.


    The four were the new Staril Council.


    The very idea that these four old people, long past their prime and lacking any of the gifts the Champions took for granted, were solely responsible for the fate of the thousands of Staril refugees sheltering beneath Erast would have been laughable if it wasn¡¯t so depressing.


    Twenty years ago, before the fall of Staril, the Staril council had been a formidable body, made up of the city¡¯s elite, its most powerful Champions. Now, it was just this¡ªfour old people sitting in a log cabin, trying to hold on to something that was already gone.


    But Elinor, Borin, Hengar, and Marak weren¡¯t just any old people either.


    Of all those who had survived the city¡¯s fall, they were the ones who¡¯d known my mother best. They had served her in her palace. Borin as her seneschal, Marak as her weaponmaster, Elinor as her personal secretary, and Hengar as her stablemaster. They had also taken it upon themselves to raise me. Dedicating what remained of their lives to train me and prepare me for the day when I would be able to take up my mother¡¯s mantle.


    Reya Staril. My mother.


    The name still carried weight, even after all these years. The refugees spoke of her in hushed tones, as if she were a saint, a hero who¡¯d given her life to save them. And in a way, she had. But she¡¯d also failed. The enclave of Staril was gone, its people scattered, and its Champions broken or turned traitor. And now, all that was left was this¡ªthis tiny, struggling community in the Low Quarter of Erast, clinging to the past like a lifeline.


    I didn¡¯t blame them. I really didn¡¯t. But sometimes, like today, it felt like my mentors were more focused on what they¡¯d lost than on trying to build something of what remained, something different.


    ¡°Bael,¡± Marak said, his voice breaking into my thoughts. ¡°Are you listening?¡±


    I blinked, focusing on him. ¡°No,¡± I admitted, earning a sharp look from Borin.


    ¡°Then perhaps you should start,¡± the elf said dryly. ¡°This is important.¡±


    Sighing, I nodded. ¡°Fine. Talk.¡±


    Marak¡¯s sharp eyes met mine, his gaze piercing through the dimness. ¡°What were you doing outside the walls?¡± Clearly, he hadn¡¯t bought my earlier answer.


    I shrugged, then came clean. ¡°Hunting,¡± I admitted.


    Elinor¡¯s expression softened. She knew better than most what spurred my frequent hunting trips. ¡°You picked a bad day for it,¡± she said gently.


    Borin snorted, his elbows thudding against the table as he leaned forward. ¡°Any day would be a bad day for jumping the walls. And besides, that¡¯s not the point. The point is he was seen.¡±


    I frowned. The dwarf¡¯s words implied the four had known about Adron and my escapade even before I entered the room. Cleaning up first would not have saved me after all, it seemed. Still, another more disturbing question drew my attention. ¡°Seen? Seen by whom?¡± I asked.


    Hengar, silent until now, spoke up, his voice low and gravelly. ¡°You and Adron were spotted the moment you two left the palisade walls this morning. The Erast Council knows as well as we do what day today is.¡± He held my gaze. ¡°They are watching.¡±


    I wanted to dispute his words. But I knew better than to try. Hengar had not just been my mother¡¯s stablemaster, he¡¯d been her spymaster, too. Behind his bluff exterior lurked a sharp mind, and to this day, he still maintained some of his contacts within Erast. Which explained his foreknowledge.


    I sighed. ¡°What does it matter if they know? After today, I will be a Champion. That old ruling of theirs confining me to the city will no longer apply. Hells, as a Champion, I will be expected to leave the city bounds.¡±


    The four exchanged weighty glances, and Hengar shook his head. but what that signified, I couldn¡¯t tell.


    ¡°You are forgetting the Oath,¡± Marak said quietly.


    I frowned again. ¡°The Champion¡¯s Oath, you mean?¡±


    He nodded.


    ¡°What about it?¡±


    Marak pursued his lips, for once appearing hesitant.


    It fell to Borin to fill in the blanks. ¡°They fear you will abscond before giving the city your Oath.¡±


    ¡°Abscond?¡± I asked incredulously. ¡°You mean as in abandon my people?¡±


    The four nodded solemnly.


    I laughed. ¡°I will do no such thing!¡±


    The tension eased out of the four.


    ¡°Of course, I will pledge my allegiance to Staril. How could anyone expect anything less? But you four know as well as I do that the Staril Enclave Stone is lost. How am I supposed to do that?¡±


    Unexpectedly, my words caused the councilors to stiffen anew.


    My face tightened. ¡°What is it?¡± I asked, seeing the growing alarm on their faces.


    Once more the four exchanged glances, and this time it fell to Elinor to explain. ¡°Bael,¡± she said carefully, ¡°we are in Erast.¡±


    My brows furrowed. ¡°So?¡±


    ¡°So,¡± she continued, ¡°it is to Erast the city council expects you to give your allegiance. Not Staril.¡±


    I stared at her for a long moment, disbelief warring with anger, then growled, ¡°No.¡±


    Borin sighed heavily, and I could also feel the others wanting to do the same. ¡°Lad,¡± he said more gently than I expected, ¡°do not forget where we are. On whose sufferance we live. If you refuse, it is not you who will pay the price.¡±


    I wanted to rail at the old dwarf, but I knew it was not his fault. ¡°They have threatened to kick our people out,¡± I said. It was not a question.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Hengar confirmed. ¡°If you do not do as they ask and make your Oath on the Erast Enclave Stone, they will do just that.¡±


    My fingers curled into fists. ¡°But why? Why do they care about my allegiance all of a sudden? Why, when they have done nothing but ignore me for the last twenty years!¡±


    ¡°Because like it or not, you are a Staril,¡± Borin said bluntly. ¡°And your line has power.¡±


    My face paled. The Champion Birth Marks passed down along familial lines, which made every Champion important not just as a weapon against the darkspawn, but also as a source of future Champions. Then, too, not all Champions were equal. Some could rise higher than others, and the Staril Family had always been known for producing mighty Champions. It was too bad I was the last of my line. But if Erast had its way, I wouldn¡¯t be.


    ¡°They will marry me off,¡± I guessed.


    Marak nodded. ¡°Most likely.¡±


    ¡°To whom?¡± I demanded, looking to Hengar and not the weaponmaster for answers.


    ¡°There have been rumors,¡± he said vaguely, ¡°but nothing concrete.¡±


    I stared hard at him, waiting for him to go on, but the stablemaster stayed steadfastly silent.


    ¡°Erast may not be the greatest of allies, but they are our allies nonetheless,¡± Elinor interjected. ¡°We can¡¯t afford to disrespect their wishes entirely.¡±


    I rose to my feet abruptly. The chair scraped against the floor, the sound jarring. ¡°Respect? They don¡¯t respect us. They tolerate us because they have to. Because of the bargain they made with my mother.¡±


    ¡°That may be true,¡± Hengar said, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of warning nonetheless. ¡°But you can¡¯t ignore reality. We are defenseless without Erast¡¯s Champions.¡±


    ¡°A third of whom are originally from Staril!¡± I protested.


    That was the betrayal that hurt the most. During the fall of Staril, my mother had freed the enclave¡¯s Champions from their Oaths. It had stopped them from senselessly giving away their lives defending a dying city and, at the same time, allowed them to make their pledges anew to Erast. This was the bargain Reya Staril had struck. Staril¡¯s Champions would become Erast¡¯s, and in exchange, the city would see the ordinary people from Staril protected. But ever since the refugees had arrived at Erast, my mother¡¯s Champions, the ones on whom she had depended on the most to protect her people, had abandoned their charges. Erast, too, had done the bare minimum to shelter the Staril refugees.


    Hengar shrugged. ¡°That, too, is reality. What the former Staril Champions choose to do is beyond our control.¡±


    I turned away to pace along the hearth. ¡°Enclave Law has failed us. The System failed us. It failed Staril. And now you want me to play by its rules? And make an Oath to Erast?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Marak stated bluntly.


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked, swinging back around.


    ¡°Because it¡¯s the only way we survive,¡± Elinor said, her voice steady. ¡°Because sometimes, you have to bend to stay unbroken.¡±


    I faced them, my heart pounding in my ears. What they asked felt like another betrayal. But not doing it would be a betrayal, too. ¡°Say I take the Oath after my induction. What then?¡±


    Marak stood, his movements fluid and deliberate. ¡°Then you become a Champion, and you do what needs to be done.¡±


    I laughed, the sound bitter. ¡°And what is that? Patrol the borders? Close dungeons? For Erast?¡±


    ¡°For the people,¡± Borin contradicted. ¡°For our people, all of whom look up to you.¡±


    I shook my head, the weight of their expectations pressing down on me. ¡°They look up to the memory of my mother, not me.¡±


    Elinor¡¯s voice was soft but firm. ¡°They look up to you because despite everything, you¡¯re here, and they know in their hearts you will fight for them, just like your mother did. And they hope, just as they did twenty years ago, that a Staril will save them.¡±


    I turned away, my voice hollow. ¡°Hope? I have no hope to give. I¡¯m just a reminder of what we¡¯ve lost.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Hengar said, his voice steady. ¡°You are the promise of a fresh start.¡±


    Not responding, I walked back to the table and sat down. ¡°How much time do I have before my induction?¡±


    ¡°Seven hours, thirty minutes,¡± Elinor replied.


    I was not surprised at her precision. Elinor had been there when I¡¯d been born, and knowing the importance of such, she had recorded the exact day, hour, and minute. My induction into the System would occur exactly twenty years later, to the very second.


    ¡°Then let¡¯s see to the ceremony.¡±


    ¡°And your Oath?¡± Marak prompted.


    I looked at him bleakly. ¡°We can discuss that after the ceremony.¡± But I knew in my heart that I would not¡ªcould not¡ªdeny their request.

 Chapter 003: The Ceremony

    Smoke from sandalwood incense drifted through the room, mingling with the scent of burning pine from the fireplace. Shadows flickered across the faces of the Staril Council members seated in a circle on woven reed mats. I sat in the center of them, freshly bathed and with my dark hair still damp. I wore my finest tunic and trousers¡ªrelics of House Staril¡ªthreadbare though they were.


    Marak cleared his throat. ¡°Normally, this induction ceremony would be performed by the First and the other Champions of Staril. But as you all know¡ª¡± his voice caught¡ª¡°Staril is no more. Her Champions are gone, save for this young man before us.¡±


    The elders nodded solemnly. I shifted, uncomfortable with their weighty regard. I still felt like an imposter, unworthy of the legacy of the Staril Family. How could I hope to live up to what my ancestors had accomplished, especially bereft of support from any other Champion?


    ¡°There is nothing inherently magical about this ritual,¡± the elf continued. ¡°Its purpose is not to bestow any gifts or powers upon the Champion, but to enlighten him as to his duty. And so it falls to us, the remnants of Staril, to see it done. To remind Bael Staril, the chosen heir of Reya Staril, of who he is. Of the proud lineage he represents.¡± Marak¡¯s piercing green eyes found mine.


    I squared my shoulders and met the weaponmaster¡¯s gaze steadily. I would not fail them. I would train harder, fight more fiercely. I would become a Champion worthy of the Staril name.


    Elinor rose to her feet, her gray robes swishing softly as she moved to stand before me. ¡°The Induction Ceremony is a sacred rite observed by generations of Staril Champions,¡± she began, her voice resonating through the empty hall. ¡°Since time immemorial, each Champion has undergone this ritual before taking up arms against the darkspawn.¡±


    My own face expressionless, I waited for her to go on. The ceremony itself, and the knowledge it was meant to impart was not news to me. I¡¯d heard it all before¡ªmultiple times¡ªfrom all my mentors. Yet, today, was different. Today, their words were infused with the power of ritual, and I suspected they would stay with me for years to come.


    ¡°While each enclave has its own traditions,¡± Elinor went on, ¡°Staril has always sought to remind its champions of their identity and purpose before sending them out to battle the forces of darkness.¡± She smiled at me then with pride and affection. ¡°And now, Bael Staril, it is your turn to hear the tales of old. To remember who you are and why you fight.¡±


    Elinor sat down again and Borin lumbered to his feet, his stout frame exuding strength and vitality despite his advancing years. The dwarf tugged at his bushy beard, his eyes distant as if seeing into the mists of the past. ¡°Before the coming of the darkspawn,¡± he began, his voice low and melodic, ¡°Danias was a land of wonder and plenty. Humans, dwarves, elves¡ªall the races in fact¡ª lived freely, without walls to separate them or fear to constrain their movements.¡±


    I tried to imagine it¡ªa world without enclaves, without the constant threat of the darkspawn dogging our steps. It seemed like a fantasy, a dream too good to be true.


    ¡°Folk farmed the rich earth and raised their children in peace,¡± Borin said wistfully. ¡°Yes, there was strife at times, as there always is when different peoples mingle. But there was also bustling trade between nations, and a sharing of skills.¡± The dwarf¡¯s eyes sparkled in the flickering light of the hearth. ¡°Dwarven metalworkers crafted precious armor mined from metals mined deep from the earth, elves roved the forests. Humans experimented in the arcane and gnomes tinkered as they were wont to do. And all prospered from the exchange of knowledge and ideas.¡±


    I leaned forward, swept up in the vision Borin wove. A world unconstrained and free. I wanted to fight for that Danias. To restore what had been lost.


    Hengar cleared his throat, drawing my attention. The stablemaster¡¯s weathered face was grave as he took up the tale. ¡°No one knows where the darkspawn came from,¡± he said. ¡°We do not think they are of this world, nor is there mention of them in any history or legend before their coming. Demons, our scholars label them, for their cruelty and their unholy power.¡±


    I repressed a shudder. Demons. I¡¯d seen a few of the creatures already, but always from a distance and always while deep in the wilds. And even I had not been so foolhardy as to try tackling them on my own. Demons were the sworn enemy of every sentient race on Danias, and they would have cut me down where I stood if they had spotted me.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡°The demons¡ªor darkspawn, call them what you will¡ªrose from the deep places of the earth, from cracks that split the ground and vomited smoke and flame,¡± Hengar continued, his eyes distant. ¡°Dungeons, we call those foul pits, for they spawned only death and ruin.¡±


    I clenched my fists, remembering the one dungeon I had seen. It had been during my farthest trip yet from Erast. The dungeon had been a jagged wound in the land, from which a sickly red glow emanated. I¡¯d not been brave enough to venture closer, though.


    ¡°The dungeons appeared without warning, within cities, inside castles, amid the fields and deep in the forests. Darkspawn poured from them in unending tides of claws, fangs and twisted flesh.¡± Hengar¡¯s voice dropped to a whisper. ¡°Chaos reigned as the demons rampaged unchecked, slaughtering all in their path. Civilizations crumbled and cities fell.¡±


    He paused, before going on more grimly, ¡°Then another catastrophe. The undead, once a minor blight, lone revenants or shambling corpses easily put down, joined the demons¡¯ ranks. Now they too are darkspawn and bent on our destruction.¡±


    Undead and demons, that was what the darkspawn were today. A double menace that need to be ruthlessly culled.


    Hengar bowed his head. ¡°All hope seemed lost as the darkspawn devoured the world, leaving only ruin and despair in their wake.¡±


    Marak rose , his silver hair glinting in the firelight. ¡°But even in the darkest hour, a light still glimmered,¡± he said, his voice suffused with quiet intensity. ¡°In the fabled city of Ardenna, seat of the most powerful mages ever known, the wizards labored in secret, pouring their wisdom and their very lives into a desperate gambit. And so was the Godstone born and the first Enclave Stone too, both artifacts of purest magic, and the last hope of a world besieged.¡±


    I leaned forward unconsciously. The Godstone¡ªthe source of every Champions¡¯ power, was the key to our survival.


    ¡°Little is known of the Godstone¡¯s true nature,¡± Marak admitted. ¡°But this much is clear¡ªit is the heart and soul of the System, a System that it itself has birthed and that grants us the strength to stand against the darkspawn.¡±


    I thought of the Codex I¡¯d seen a Erast champion carrying back from a dungeon he¡¯d closed once. The silver-bound tome. The secrets of the Champion¡¯s arts were concealed within its page, the path to honing body and mind into a weapon against the demons.


    ¡°The Godstone creates the Codices that fuels every Champion¡¯s abilities,¡± Marak confirmed, as if reading my mind. ¡°It sets the quests by which they test they mettle and advance in power. And it is the Godstone that allows them to absorb the essence of the slain darkspawn, to take their unholy might and turn it to righteous purpose, thereby increasing in level.¡±


    In short, the Godstone was the System. Without it, we¡¯d be lost.


    ¡°The wizards poured their very souls into the Godstone,¡± Marak said softly. ¡°Somehow, through magics lost to time, they imparted the artifact they created with a will and intelligence of its own. Now, it is the Godstone and its System that guides us, that shapes our fight against annihilation.¡±


    The elf¡¯s gaze bored into mine. ¡°Never forget, Bael¡ªwhat the Godstone is. As a Champion, you are honor bond to protect it. For if the Godstone falls, so too does all hope.¡±


    I met Marak¡¯s eyes steadily. ¡°Where is the Godstone now?¡± The question was a formality, part of the ancient rite only and I didn¡¯t truly expect an answer.


    ¡°No one knows the stone¡¯s whereabouts,¡± Elinor answered. ¡°The wizards of Ardenna made certain it was hidden where none could find it. But we know the darkspawn seek it tirelessly. Finding it is their greatest desire and our deepest dread.¡±


    She turned to me. ¡°Bael Staril, do you pledge to find the Godstone before the darkspawn do, no matter the cost to yourself? Will you guard it with your life and honor, as a true Champion must?¡±


    I did not answer casually as I knew I could have. Even after centuries of searching, the darkspawn had not found the Godstone, and it was highly likely they would not do so in my lifetime either. Still, I did not give my word lightly¡ªto anything. A promise, Borin had taught me, always had to be carefully considered and weighed. This was especially true for a Staril.


    Would I do it? I wondered. If it came down to it, would I sacrifice everything to safeguard the Godstone, the very source of every Champion¡¯s power?


    I thought of my mother, of the legacy she had left me. Of the Staril refugees, huddled in Erast¡¯s slums, dreaming of a homeland they might never see again. They needed the Champions, warriors who would fight for them.


    I met Elinor¡¯s eyes, my jaw tight with resolve. ¡°I so pledge,¡± I said firmly. ¡°I will find the Godstone and defend it against the darkspawn. This I swear, on my life and my line, until the last breath leaves my body.¡±


    The words rang out like a clarion, a promise that seemed to vibrate in the very stones around us. Elinor nodded slowly, pride and sorrow mingling in her expression. ¡°Then let it be so,¡± she whispered. ¡°Let the System hear and bear witness.¡±


    Whether the System could actually hear, was anyone¡¯s guess. My promise, as much as it meant to me personally, was not a System Oath made on an Enclave Stone and would not carry the same weight as that.


    Nonetheless, that did not take away from the significance of the moment. I, Bael Staril, son of Reya, and last surviving member of the family, had taken the first step to becoming a Champion.