"Do not worry, it is for our own good," said Roger while he watched the flames grow, licking the sides of the warehouse and climbing higher into the canopy of leaves above.
Andrew's heart raced, as he watched the flames grow ever higher, threatening to consume everything in their path. Without thinking, he lunged forward, and snatched the torch from his uncle's grip. He hurled it to the ground, and extinguished it.
Roger's gaze snapped to Andrew, his eyes dark and intense, filled with a cold fury that made Andrew's blood run cold. "What are you doing, Andrew?" his voice was low, a menacing growl that sent a shiver down Andrew's spine.
"Our own good?! From where, uncle?!" Andrew's voice trembled with fear, but he didn't back down. "I ask you, Uncle!" His voice rose in pitch, demanding answers from him.
Roger's expression hardened, his jaw tightening as if he was biting back a retort. "What I'm doing is for both of us," he replied. "I am creating a distraction so that we both can escape safe and sound."
"Uncle," he called out softly. "I know you care for me, but there are innocent animals living in this forest, even people. What you did was wrong."
Roger's expression softened for a brief moment, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. But his resolve quickly returned, hardened by desperation. "Sometimes, sacrifices are necessary, Andrew. We don't have the luxury of time or options."
Andrew's heart ached at his words, and with a scoffing smile playing on his lips, he spoke, "If running away means making sacrifices and putting innocent lives in danger, I don't want to run away. And it was only about painting, what could have gone wrong? And you know what, Uncle? This is wrong. And so, I don't want to go with you. Leave me be."
"There was no other way," Roger muttered, almost to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. "I will be careful from now on. Now, come on, let us leave."
Andrew shook his head. "How can you say it so easily? Like what you just did is nothing.."
"This is not just about a painting. If you step into that manor, you will never come out. That place is terrifying. Do you think you'll be welcomed with flowers there? Let me tell you, no. They will eat you up. Not every rumor is wrong, Andrew. Why can't you see that it's not just about the painting? There's more to it, something they're hiding."
Andrew's mind swirled with confusion and frustration. "And how are you so sure of it?" he demanded.
Roger took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. The fire was spreading, and every second they wasted in this argument was a second closer to danger. "We can't afford to argue right now. Every second we waste brings the warriors closer to us. We have to keep moving."
But Andrew stood his ground, the fire reflected in his eyes. "I do not want to. Let them come."
A tense silence fell between them. Roger watched his nephew, with a expression which was a mix of anger, frustration, and something else—something darker. "You are making things difficult," he whispered under his breath.
And then suddenly a burning tree cracked and fell on Andrew!
After hours, Andrew regained his senses and found his surroundings moving, his uncle was driving the wagon downhill to the Mar'ge village.
Roger's plan worked; the streets and houses were mostly empty as the villagers had gone to check on the fire in the forest, which was rapidly spreading and beginning to threaten the village itself.
He stopped the wagon before a humble house and getting down, he knocked on the door, the sound echoing in the silence of the empty street.
Finally, on the fourth knock, the door creaked open, revealing an elderly woman. Her tired eyes, etched with years of hardship, as she studied Roger closely.
"Yes? How may I help you?" she asked in a low, weak tone, her voice betraying a mix of curiosity and wariness.
"Mother, it's me, your son. I've returned after so many years. Forgive me."
The woman's eyes widened in recognition and surprise. "Is it really you?" she asked, her voice trembling with emotion. She reached out, and with her shaking hands, she touched Roger's face as if to confirm that he was real.
"It's me, Mother," Roger confirmed.
Tears welled up in the old woman's eyes as she pulled Roger into a tight embrace. "I thought I'd never see you again," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.
Andrew watched the reunion from the wagon, feeling a strange mix of emotions while there was a piercing pain in his head.
The old woman finally released Roger and turned her attention to Andrew. "And who is this young man?" she asked.
"This is Andrew, my nephew," Roger explained, as he gestured towards his nephew.
"Andrew?! That child?! Oh my, you have grown so much... I did not recognize you," exclaimed Roger's mother, her voice a blend of surprise and warmth.
"We've been through a lot, and we need a place to stay, just for a while," informed Roger.
The old woman nodded. "Come in, both of you. You must be exhausted," she said, stepping aside to let them in.
As they entered the warm, cozy house, Andrew nearly lost his balance and collapsed into a chair.
"Are you alright?!" the old woman asked, to which Andrew responded with a smile.
"He is alright, just a but tired," added Roger.
"I see.." said the old women.
Seated in the old, worn armchair, Roger glanced around the familiar room. "Thank you, Mother. We just need some time to figure things out," he said, his voice laced with gratitude.
"Would you like something to drink?" she asked, her tone gentle and concerned.
Andrew responded as he shook his head.
"Yes, just bring two glasses of water," requested Roger.
The old woman walked into the other room, her steps purposeful and steady despite her age.
When his mother was not in the sight, Roger turned to Andrew. "We are going to stay here for just a while. Eat, drink or relax but do not cause any trouble," he said, his voice firm.
Andrew still in pain due to the throbbing headache, gave a slow nod to his uncle.
"And do not speak anything unnecessary," Roger added, lowering his voice. "My mother used to work under Lady Isabelle. We must be careful about what we say."
"What is with you? Are you okay?" he asked.
The old woman returned shortly, carrying a tray with two glasses of water and a plate of bread and cheese. She set it down on the table in front of them with a warm smile.
"Here you go, boys. It's not much, but it's something to keep you going," she said, her eyes twinkling with kindness.
"Thank you, Mother," Roger said, taking a glass and offered it to Andrew.
The old woman sat down in a nearby chair, watching them with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "You look like you've been through quite an ordeal."
"Andrew are you alright?" she asked.
"Yes, I am okay.. I am just tired," he replied while, forcing a steady voice.
"I see. What brought you back after all these years?" she asked, her eyes darting between Andrew and Roger, a mixture of concern and curiosity.
Roger hesitated, glancing at Andrew before responding. "It's a long story, Mother."
"Then tell me in short," she insisted, her voice firm yet gentle.
"You might have the time but we don't.. And plus we want to rest," said Roger, his voice polite and respectful.
She nodded, her eyes understanding. "You're safe here, for as long as you need. This house has always been your home, and it always will be."
The old women rose from her seat and was about to leave, but was stopped by Roger's request.
"Mother, I need the keys to your 2nd house," he asked, his tone requesting but it was more like he demanded.
"Not until you tell me what is going on," she demanded. "Is it something big? Or else why would you want to leave the kingdom?"
Roger sighed deeply, "Not here," he said, lowering his voice. "Somewhere private."
In a room, while Andrew waited outside.
"Protecting him?" she said, sarcastically. "Roger, you are just making sure he is not taken away from you, and I know it for sure. I know you have always been reckless, but have you gone insane?"
"I am trying to protect him," Roger's voice quivered with a mixture of frustration and desperation.
"I have helped you once, which I should not have. Because of me, you are like this. I will not make the same mistake again. Forgiving you again is out of the page," she replied sharply.
"I will make sure that Andrew is taken away from you," she added, her voice firm and determined. "Seeing that you are crazy enough to do reckless things, I will ensure he is in good hands. And I know Lady Isabelle will take better care of him than you."
Roger's face tightened, desperation evident in his eyes, "You don't understand, Mother. Andrew is not safe there. Those people are relentless; they are cruel, and they will not let him live in peace. I can't let that happen. Please, you have to trust and believe me."
His mother, torn between disbelief and concern, scanned Roger's face for any sign of deception. "Trust you? Not even a dog will trust you. I have always turned a blind eye to your crimes. But I cannot let that child get caught up in your horrifying mess. And what did you say? They will not let him live in peace, oh, Roger you can not manipulate me."
Roger took a deep breath, trying to steady his voice. "Mother, I know I've made mistakes, but this is different. Andrew is in real danger, and I'm trying to protect him from something far worse than anything I've ever been involved in. Lady Isabelle is not what she seems."
"Yes, but he is going to be far safer with her than with you," his mother said, her voice trembling with a mix of finality and dread.
Before her words could fully settle in the room, a loud BAM! shattered the uneasy silence. The window slammed open with a violent force, the glass rattling as if the very house was protesting. The wind outside howled like a wounded beast, its cries seeping into the room and chilling the air.
Yellow light from outside illuminated into the room. His mother's gaze slowly shifted to the open window, her face draining of color as she took in the scene outside. In a distant from them, the houses in the village was burning, the fire had spread it's fangs down to the village.
"Did you do this?!!" she demanded, her voice rising in panic and disbelief. The words were almost a scream, yet there was a raw, desperate edge to them. "I can not give Andrew to you!! You... You.. Are a monster. Black magic has gotten into your veins. You are blinded by the lust for more power!"
Her chest heaved with each breath, her heart pounding so hard it felt as though it might burst from her ribcage.
"I am not a monster..." he said softly. The word lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. He hesitated for just a moment before continuing, "Mother"