The air was thick with a mournful stillness as Leor stood in the small clearing, looking down at the freshly dug graves of his grandparents. The stones were heavy, but he managed to stack them carefully atop the graves, each one placed with reverence. His hands shook from exhaustion and grief, but he worked steadily, driven by an instinct he didn't understand—a desire to honor them in the only way he could.
When the last stone was set, Leor stood silently for a long while, his gaze fixed on the simple markers. The sun was low, casting long shadows across the forest floor, but his heart felt even heavier than the day. The weight of what had happened still pressed on him, a constant ache that he couldn't shake.
After a moment, he turned away, the sound of his boots crunching softly on the dry earth as he walked back to the house. The place he once called home now felt empty, hollow. Inside, the damage from the soldiers was still visible. Shattered glass from the window lay scattered on the floor, and the walls were marred with deep gouges. With his back to the door, Leor sat down and stared at the broken window. A cold wind blew through the gap, rustling the curtains, but he didn't move to close it.
For days, Leor had done little more than survive. He slept fitfully on the worn couch, waking in the middle of the night from strange dreams, only to find himself alone in the house. Every morning, he'd force himself to eat something, but hunger always gnawed at him. Grief, though, was the greater hunger. He missed his grandparents' voices, their warmth, their presence.
On this particular morning, after burying them, he found something that sparked a distant memory. Wild berries. Bright and vibrant, they grew in the same patch where his grandmother used to pick them. They weren't much, but they reminded him of her—her soft smile, her warm hands, the way she'd always share the berries with him.
But they weren't enough. His stomach growled painfully, reminding him that survival meant more than memories. He needed real food.
Leor set out toward the river, where his grandfather used to fish. The stream cut through the forest, clear and cold, a place of refuge for both the wildlife and the people who lived nearby. He had no rod, no net—only the makeshift spear his grandfather had taught him to carve as a child. The stick was jagged and crude, but it was sharp enough to pierce the scales of a fish, or so his grandfather had said.
For an hour and a half, Leor stood knee-deep in the icy water, waiting for the right moment to strike. His hands were numb, his fingers slipping from the handle as the fish darted in and out of reach. His breath fogged in the air, each exhale a reminder that he was still alive—just barely.
Frustration began to settle in. He couldn't do it. The spear slipped from his grasp more than once. The fish eluded him. It felt like everything was slipping from his hands. His stomach roared in protest, but there was nothing he could do.
With a final, frustrated glance at the river, Leor made the decision to head back. There would be no fish today.
As he moved toward home, his heart grew heavier with every step. The thought of being alone in that house again, of staying in a place that no longer felt like home, was unbearable.
When he neared his house, the last thing he expected was to see people standing there—figures in the distance, their armor gleaming even in the soft light of the afternoon.
Soldiers.
Leor froze in place, his blood turning cold. They were wearing the same insignia, the same armor as the men who had torn his world apart. The sight of them filled him with a cold dread. His mind raced—What if they're looking for me?
He thought about hiding, about making a run for it, but the fear that gripped him made the decision clear. He couldn't stay here anymore. The soldiers would find him, and what would they do to him if they did?
Without another thought, Leor turned and melted into the shadows of the forest, his heart hammering in his chest. He knew the risk, but he couldn't afford to be found. He had to leave—leave and never look back.
Leor wandered through the forest, each step heavy with the weight of hunger. The hours seemed to stretch endlessly, his stomach gnawing at him with a pain that grew sharper with every passing minute. His mind, clouded by the need to eat, searched for any sign of life—a village, a trader, anything to relieve him from the torment.
Then, through the thick trees, he saw it—a small village, nestled on the edge of the forest. Leor's heart quickened with hope. He picked up his pace, desperate to reach it. Maybe there would be someone willing to spare food, or perhaps he could find something abandoned that could ease his pain. He arrived at the gate, out of breath and shaking.
The village was eerily quiet. No chatter, no children playing, no livestock in the fields. Leor stood at the entrance, his pulse quickening with unease. "Maybe they're inside," he thought. His grandparents had often stayed hidden during times of danger, so perhaps the villagers were doing the same.
He ventured further into the village, his footsteps echoing on the cobblestone streets. Houses lined the way, their doors ajar, as if inviting him to enter. Leor peeked into the first house he came across. The room was undisturbed—no sign of life. No one was there.
Confused, he moved to the next, and then the next, peering inside. Each house was the same: eerily empty, everything left untouched, as though the people had vanished in an instant. There were no signs of struggle, no signs of anyone leaving hastily. It was as if the entire village had been abandoned overnight.
His stomach growled louder, his body screaming for sustenance. He continued searching, driven by desperation, until his eyes landed on a small piece of bread resting on a table in the corner of one house. It was hard, a few days old at best, but it was food. Leor wasted no time, tearing it apart and shoving it into his mouth, the dry texture barely making it down his throat.
Just as the hunger began to subside, a distant murmur reached his ears. Voices. They were faint, but they were unmistakable. His heart raced. Could the villagers be returning? Maybe they had been hiding from the same threats Leor had faced.
He bolted from the house, eager to see who it was. The voices grew louder, and soon Leor spotted them—a group of soldiers, moving along the outskirts of the village. His breath hitched in his throat.
Before he could even think to duck out of sight, one of them caught his eye. "Hey! Stop right there!" The soldier's shout echoed through the quiet village.
Panic surged through Leor. He didn't wait another second. His legs pushed him forward, his body moving on pure instinct as he sprinted down the street. The sound of boots pounding against the cobblestones grew closer, but Leor refused to look back. His only thought was escape.
Leor ran as fast as his legs could carry him, but with each desperate stride, the soldiers seemed to close the gap. His heart pounded, his breath ragged as he pushed his body to its limits. The village outskirts were so close, but they were gaining on him, relentless.
With a surge of adrenaline, Leor made it to the edge of the village, his foot hitting the earth just as he felt a strong hand clamp down on his shoulder. He tried to twist away, but the grip was firm, unyielding. Panic surged through him.
With no time to think, Leor bit down on the soldier's arm, sinking his teeth into the tough fabric of his armor. The soldier howled in pain, jerking back, but Leor couldn't escape fast enough. The soldier slapped him hard across the face, sending Leor crashing into a nearby tree. The impact jarred his skull, and his body went limp, his world spinning as his vision blurred to nothing.
From the darkness, faint voices reached his ears.
"Just a kid..." one soldier muttered.
Leor couldn't focus, the words muddled in his aching head. The sounds of footsteps grew fainter, and then all was still.
A long while passed before Leor's eyes fluttered open. His head throbbed painfully, and the world swayed around him. He tried to move but found himself confined, his limbs restricted. His body was sore, every inch a reminder of the impact and struggle. As his vision cleared, he realized he was inside a small, barred wagon. The dim light outside filtered through the cracks of the cage, casting shadows that danced on the faces of unfamiliar figures around him.
Some were older, others younger—people who seemed as lost and confused as he felt. Leor touched his forehead, feeling the rough cloth wrapped around his head, the faint pressure of a wound. His headache was sharp, but at least the pain wasn't as unbearable as before.
The wagon lurched, and Leor's heart sank. His escape, his fight, his hope—they all felt so distant now. The smell of the road, the rustle of movement around him, and the heavy silence of the cage—it all felt like the start of something worse.
Leor closed his eyes briefly, trying to steady his breath. He couldn't give up. Not yet. Not like this.
As Leor shifted uneasily in the wagon, an older man's voice broke the silence, soft and weathered by age. "Calm down, kid," he said, his voice carrying a quiet resignation. "There's nothing we can do as long as we're in this cage."
Leor glanced over at the man, a fire still burning in his chest, wanting to prove that there was always something they could do. But when he looked into the man's eyes, he saw something that made his stomach drop—hopelessness. The old man wasn't just resigned; he had accepted the reality of their fate. The kind of acceptance that came only after years of broken promises, shattered hope, and endless waiting.
Leor's shoulders sagged, his mind racing but finding no answers. He wanted to fight, wanted to escape, but in that moment, the crushing weight of helplessness began to sink in. The world around him blurred once again, and he felt the inevitable pull of exhaustion. He didn't know what to do anymore except wait for whatever came next.
The ride dragged on, the sound of the wagon wheels creaking like a slow march toward the unknown. Leor drifted in and out of sleep, his body aching from the hard, cramped position he'd been forced into. His head throbbed, his limbs stiff, but there was nothing he could do except endure. It was as if his fate had already been written for him.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the wagon came to a halt. Leor woke with a start, groggy and sore from the uncomfortable position he'd been forced into. His body ached with every movement as he straightened himself up, groaning softly. The door to the cage creaked open, and the harsh light of day poured in. Soldiers approached, their boots clanging against the stone ground.
"Out," one of them barked. "Everyone, out of the wagon!"
Leor shuffled to his feet, along with the others in the cage, and stepped out into the open. His legs were unsteady, and his vision was blurry from sleep, but he forced himself to move, to keep up with the others. As they walked in a slow, orderly line, Leor's eyes began to focus on his surroundings.
What he saw made his blood run cold.
Before him stood a massive figure—a pawn. It was far larger than any human, standing as a towering, armored behemoth, its glowing blue eyes unblinking as it watched over the group. Leor froze, momentarily caught in the pawn's gaze, his heart pounding. He had seen pawns in the past, but this one felt different. This one radiated an oppressive aura of power and control.
A rough shove from a nearby soldier jolted Leor back to reality, and he quickly shuffled into a line of children, all varying in age, some looking just as lost and frightened as he felt. They were all being herded toward the massive stone fort ahead, the heavy gates looming like an unmovable wall of destiny.
The soldiers pushed the group forward, their harsh orders cutting through the air. Leor stumbled along with the others, each step feeling heavier than the last. The fort loomed closer, its stone walls cold and unwelcoming. He couldn't see a way out, no escape in sight. The reality of his situation pressed down on him like a weight he couldn't escape.
As they crossed the threshold into the fortress, the world beyond seemed to fade into nothingness. Leor didn't know what awaited him inside, but he knew one thing for certain—he had to survive. Whatever happened next, he couldn't give up. He couldn't lose hope, no matter how dark it seemed.