Astrid staggered back into their hideout near the village, her breath ragged and her heart pounding in her chest. There wasn't a single soul to be seen in the village square, and the night was eerily silent and still, not even a whisper of a breeze rustling through the trees.
As she stood there, her mind still racing from the harrowing encounter in the forest, Astrid couldn't fathom how she had ended up back in the village. She had run and run without looking back, her fear propelling her forward, her body instinctively finding the shortest path that led her home. After a certain point, she had even surpassed Marcus without realizing it.
With her heart in her throat, Astrid suddenly realized that Marcus wasn't with her. Panic welled up within her, and she frantically scanned her deserted surroundings, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow. She couldn't leave him behind. She couldn't abandon her closest friend to those sinister men.
Just as she was about to turn and retrace her steps, to go back for Marcus, she spotted a familiar figure emerging from the edge of a clearing. Moonlight bathed his face, casting it in a pale glow.
It was Marcus, his eyes wide with relief and his chest heaving with exertion. He had caught up to her.
Astrid rushed toward him, her arms wrapping around him in a tight embrace. "Marcus! I thought... I thought I had lost you."
Marcus returned the embrace, his voice filled with relief. "You didn't lose me, Astrid. I would never leave you behind."
They clung to each other for a moment, the nearness of danger still fresh in their minds.
Astrid's thoughts in a whirlwind of emotions and uncertainty. She had believed herself brave, strong even, as she had faced down the fort's soldiers with a daring determination. But the men in the forest were a different breed altogether—killers who wouldn't hesitate to take a life. The near-miss of the arrow had shaken her to her core, and she couldn't escape the gravity of their encounter.
Silent and deep in contemplation, Astrid was drawn from her reverie by Marcus's voice. He stared at her with a mixture of concern and frustration, his voice tinged with exasperation. "That was stupid, you know? Why did you turn back?"
Astrid's response was hesitant, her words filled with a mixture of guilt and lingering determination. "I... I thought that I could help..."
Marcus sighed, his role as their voice of reason a familiar one. Astrid had always been the impulsive one, acting on instinct and spontaneity. Their unique combination had saved them from trouble countless times before.
Astrid, still shaken by the night's events, asked hesitantly, "Do you think we lost them?"
Marcus considered for a moment before responding. "I think so... but it's best we go back to our homes."
Astrid nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry..."
Marcus, understanding the complexity of their choices, reassured her, "It's okay. I should have stopped you, dragged you back, even. But then they would have noticed our fire anyways. So it doesn't matter."
Together, they decided to return to their homes, seeking the safety of their familiar surroundings. The night had shaken them both, and while Astrid harbored a yearning to uncover the conspiracy they had stumbled upon, the scare she had endured was enough to deter her, at least for now. All she wanted was to put the night behind her and hope that nothing bad would befall them in the wake of their daring encounter.
In the depths of the night, as Astrid lay on her bed, a surreal and ethereal atmosphere began to envelop Astrid's senses. The air around her felt charged with an otherworldly energy, and the mood turned mysterious, leaving her with a sense of both wonder and apprehension.
Astrid heard a voice, faint and distant, yet clear in its archaic, ethereal tone. "Astraea... Astraea..."
In a trance-like state, Astrid found herself suddenly enveloped in an ethereal atmosphere that seemed to blur the lines between reality and another dimension. The sky, once a tranquil night canvas, was now unnaturally dark, a void where the stars and constellations shone with an otherworldly intensity.
The constellation of scales, so luminous and vivid, glowed even brighter in the sky. She felt as though she was simultaneously flying and sinking, the boundaries of her existence expanding and contracting.
In this surreal state, she couldn't hear, yet the silence was deafeningly loud, a paradox that echoed in her senses. It was as if she was held in the softest, most tender embrace, yet torn asunder at the same time.
Then, suddenly, the cacophony of sensations ceased, and all was still. In that profound stillness, a voice, gentle as a soothing breeze, called to her, whispering her name like an age-old lullaby. "Astraea... Astraea..." The words cradled her mind and body, calling her name with an almost supernatural resonance.
In dreams of ages past, a voice did call,
Astraea, hear the ancient whispers' thrall,
Balancing scales with justice's might.
Heavens yearned for your celestial delight,
Guiding stars in the cosmic night,
Astraea, your ethereal journey takes flight.
Astraea, seek within the night's embrace,
Where strength once dwelt in the cosmic space,
Your origin's might shall guide your destined chase.
In weakness, find the dormant virtues, wise,
For in their grace, no challenge shall arise,
Travel forth, brave soul, beneath the starry skies.
Astrid's ethereal encounter was suddenly severed, and she found herself thrust back into the waking world as if struck by lightning. The surreal moments she had experienced had somehow transported her through time, and without her knowledge, the tranquil night had given way to the first light of dawn. It was as if she had blinked, and reality had shifted in an instant.
But something else struck her as strange. The village was abuzz with activity despite the early hour. Voices carried through the air, filled with urgency and concern.
"Astrid!" her mother called urgently. "Girl, where are you?"
Astrid hurriedly responded, her confusion deepening. "Mother? I'm here. What's wrong?"
Her mother appeared extremely anxious, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and disbelief. "Oh, thank the gods you're here!"
Astrid's heart raced as her mother delivered the shocking news. "The soldiers are here!"
"What, why?" Astrid exclaimed, struggling to grasp the sudden turn of events.
"They said that the tax collector was murdered!" her mother continued. "And they suspect someone from the village did it!"
Astrid froze in her tracks. The accusation seemed preposterous, but then a realization struck her with chilling clarity. It was all part of the conspiracy. The culprits intended to shift the blame, to cover up their dark deeds. But the question remained: Why the sudden change in their plan? Last night, they had wanted to frame bandits, so what had caused this abrupt shift?
Astrid took a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts. She knew that the killers had not seen her or Marcus last night, and as long as she maintained her composure and acted as though she knew nothing, they might remain safe.
The door of their house rattled, and a stern voice shouted, "Come out to the village square! Everyone is to gather there! Those who do not comply will be charged with treason!"
"Treason!?" Astrid thought it absurd, but there was no time to dwell on it. With her mother by her side, they swiftly joined the other villagers as they headed for the village square, each step taking them closer to the unknown challenges that lay ahead.
The village square was abuzz with a tense atmosphere as villagers gathered under the early morning light. Anxiety and uncertainty lingered in the air, overshadowed by the ominous presence of the approaching soldiers. As Astrid scanned the crowd for Marcus, her heart quickened with the anticipation of their silent reunion.
And then, amidst the worried faces and hushed whispers, she spotted him. Marcus stood at a distance, his gaze locked onto hers. With a reassuring nod, he mouthed a few words to her, their message clear even in the midst of the turmoil.
"Don't do anything."
Astrid squinted, her eyes straining to make out the words. It was as though he was warning her, cautioning against her impulsive nature. She understood the importance of staying composed, especially in this critical moment.
Her mother, sensing the tension between them, glanced at Astrid with a knowing look. "You know something, don't you?"
Astrid feigned innocence, responding with a shrug. "Know what?"
Her mother sighed, frustration evident in her voice. "You know what I mean. When are you going to grow up?"
Defiance flickered in Astrid's eyes as she retorted, "I am grown up. I had my coming of age two months ago, didn't I?"
Her mother's frown deepened, but before she could respond, the bustling of the crowd ceased. All eyes turned toward a soldier, clad in armor, who approached with an air of authority. He appeared to be the leader of the small contingent of soldiers that had arrived from the nearby Fort Ethicor, the very fort that safeguarded one of the most crucial routes from the sea to the capital of the Kingdom of Dawnhaven. Astrid's village was among the satellite settlements surrounding the fort, their fates now entwined with the impending events about to unfold.
The lead soldier, a stern figure with a polished demeanor, cleared his throat, commanding the attention of the gathered villagers. He turned toward Sir Dryford's aide, Rungin, and nodded, indicating he should explain the situation.
Rungin stepped forward, his solemn expression etched with sadness, and began to recount the troubling events. "Good people," he spoke, "last night, as we camped, Sir Dryford, our esteemed tax collector, suddenly vanished from our midst."
Murmurs of shock and concern rippled through the crowd. Astrid could feel the tension in the air as Rungin continued his account. "We searched for him, fearing the worst. And when we found him, our worst fears were confirmed—Sir Dryford lay lifeless."
The lead soldier's voice took on a somber tone as he introduced Rungin, who had been Sir Dryford's aide and was now seeking answers. "This is Rungin, a loyal servant to Sir Dryford. He is as perplexed and grieved as we all are."
Rungin, his eyes reflecting the weight of the tragedy, spoke with determination, "I promise you, I will not let this malefactor escape justice so easily. I witnessed the culprit fleeing in the direction of this village, and I swear upon my honor that they will be held accountable for their interference in matters concerning the Kingdom."
The villagers exchanged uncertain glances, their thoughts heavy with the gravity of the situation.
Astrid's unease was palpable as an overwhelming sense of foreboding enveloped her. This was not going to unfold as she had anticipated, and her heart pounded with trepidation.
Rungin's declaration reverberated through the square, and Astrid felt the weight of impending doom settling in her chest. "I have seen the culprit's back. I shall call them out!"
Desperation surged within Astrid, and she couldn't contain the frantic whispers of "no, no, no" that escaped her trembling lips.
Rungin, with a tone of command, ordered his soldiers into action. "Soldiers, pull out all men with light hair!"
Astrid's gaze darted towards Marcus, her dear friend with light brown hair that caught the first rays of the rising sun. Panic surged within her as she saw their eyes lock, just before a soldier swooped in, seizing Marcus by the arm and dragging him forcefully to the center of the square.
He wasn't alone. Other men fitting the characteristics were likewise singled out, their bewildered expressions reflecting the fear that had swept through the square. Villagers protested, their voices raised in anguish, but the soldiers held them at bay, brandishing their swords and spears menacingly.
In total, four men were isolated from the rest, leaving Astrid in a state of anxious apprehension. She couldn't bear to see Marcus in this predicament, yet she remembered his earlier words, urging her not to act impulsively. The burning desire to reveal the truth and ensure justice fought against her, but what weight could her words hold in the face of the Kingdom's authority?
Rungin's menacing gaze swept over the selected men, his intent unsettling. He ordered them, his voice a sinister command, "All of you, I want you to yell 'Run!' as loud as you can."
Confusion reigned among the villagers, who exchanged bewildered glances, while Marcus, feigning confusion, was trapped within Rungin's relentless scrutiny.
"You, there," Rungin pointed at Marcus, his voice chilling. "You know something."
Marcus, a mixture of fear and hesitation coursing through him, faltered, "What do you mean?"
Rungin's gaze bore into Marcus, dark and hypnotic, as if it held an unnatural power. Marcus was drawn into that malevolent stare, unable to escape its thrall.
With a swift motion, Rungin drew his sword and aimed it menacingly at Marcus's neck. "Yell it out, or else."
Astrid, her heart lodged in her throat, watched in terror as Marcus hesitated, the tension in the square unbearable. The pressure of the moment bore down on him, and Marcus swallowed hard. In a trembling voice, he shouted, "Run!"
It was a gut-wrenching echo of the previous night, but this time, something was different. He couldn't alter his voice; it was as if Rungin's gaze had consumed him, leaving him powerless. The village fell into an eerie silence, waiting with bated breath.
A sinister grin etched across Rungin's face, a wicked mirroring of his intent. "It's you," he hissed with an unsettling calm, raising his sword high.
Astrid's worst fears materialized before her eyes, and she could bear it no longer. "No!" she cried out in anguish, her voice breaking the stifling silence of the square.