Alaric staggered through the forest, his steps heavy and unsteady. His body was in shambles, both physically and mentally. The recent battles against the entity of the three Watchers and Gobinot had drained him completely. His muscles were on fire, and each breath felt like a struggle for air. The headband on his forehead was smeared with dried blood, barely concealing the Mark that pulsed faintly beneath the pressure.
The trees around him, usually majestic and reassuring, now seemed to twist their branches in the darkness, their shadows forming menacing shapes. The constant murmur of the forest, once familiar, now sounded like voices whispering forgotten truths, amplifying the confusion and exhaustion that consumed Alaric.
He still had some distance to cover to reach his friends, Kael and Lira, who were being held somewhere in a heavily guarded fortress. But each step pushed him closer to his limits. His thoughts were becoming blurry, shifting between scattered memories and the echoes of recent battles.
A sigh escaped his lips, a mix of frustration and fatigue. How much longer could I hold on? He knew his condition was far from ideal for facing new enemies. He needed rest, time to recover... but he didn't have that luxury. His friends were in danger, and he could never forgive himself if he abandoned them.
As he walked, flashes of the recent battles resurfaced in his mind. The moment when he had struck down the entity with a violence he hadn't known he was capable of. The final cry of the three fused Watchers, a cry of despair and pain, still echoed in his ears. His hands trembled as he recalled the carnage he had wrought. For a brief moment, he had felt a darkness consume him. A part of him had relished in that destructive power.
Alaric shook his head, trying to push those thoughts away, but they clung to him, stubborn. Is this the path I'm walking now? It was a question he found himself asking more and more. The sacrifices he had to make, the lives he had already taken... It was necessary, he knew that. But how far could that justify the violence?
A faint, clear whisper echoed in his mind. You're not so different from the ones you fight.
He stopped dead in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat. Who had spoken? The forest around him was silent, save for the wind whistling through the branches. He scanned the area for the source of the voice, but there was no one. Was it an illusion, a side effect of his exhaustion? Or perhaps something deeper? The Mark on his forehead pulsed slightly, as if reacting to his dark thoughts.
"No," he muttered to himself. "I'm different." But the conviction in his voice was weak, uncertain.
He started walking again, the weight of his doubts growing heavier with each step. His body demanded rest, but his mind was haunted by that inner voice, that persistent whisper that seemed to push him in a direction he refused to take.
After a while, the path widened, revealing a clearing. In the distance, the massive silhouettes of the fortress walls loomed through the evening mist. His friends were there, somewhere behind those walls.
Alaric dropped to his knees, unable to take another step. His breathing was labored, and his limbs felt like lead. He had pushed his body to its limits, and the constant pain radiating through his muscles was a reminder of his fragile state. But he couldn't stay here too long.
He closed his eyes for a moment, hoping it would be enough to ease the exhaustion gnawing at him. Memories rushed back, his parents, his people, Eyoma... all of it seemed so distant now, like another life. The promise he had made to never seek vengeance haunted him. Yet, every enemy he struck down seemed to bring him closer to that line he had sworn never to cross.
I have to save my friends. That thought was his only lifeline. But deep down, a small voice asked : And after that? What will be left?
When he opened his eyes, the fortress seemed even larger, more menacing. The stone walls were illuminated by torches, and he could see silhouettes patrolling the tops of the walls. He knew he couldn't attack head-on in his current state, but he had no choice. He needed to approach discreetly, analyze the defenses, and find a way to free Lira and Kael.
As he struggled to stand, each muscle protesting the effort, he realized how alone he felt in that moment. Where's Kwame? The question flashed in his mind, but he dismissed it. Now wasn't the time to think about that.
Lira and Kael. They're counting on me.
He cast one last glance at the fortress, then moved forward into the shadows, blending into the darkness of the forest. The pain in his body was overwhelming, but it also reminded him of one essential thing: he was still alive. He hadn't given up yet, even if part of him wondered why he kept going.
For them. For Eyoma.
But even those thoughts were starting to lose their strength.
As he slipped quietly through the trees, a feeling of unease crept over him. He wasn't sure anymore of the path he was taking or the person he was becoming. Each enemy he felled brought him further away from the promise he had made to his parents. And each step brought him closer to a darker truth.
The road to the fortress would be long, but he was ready to sacrifice everything to save his friends... even if it meant losing himself along the way.
Suddenly, a voice broke the silence, pulling him from his thoughts.
"Alaric!" He turned abruptly, his heart still racing from the intensity of his reflections. It was Kimpa Vita. She had been with him the whole time. How could he have forgotten? She approached him, her gaze filled with concern, but there was also that intelligence and strength in her eyes that defined her.
"I've been calling you for a while, but you didn't hear me. You're in bad shape. I can cast a healing spell, but it'll only delay the inevitable."
Alaric nodded, still lost in his thoughts, but gratitude flickered in his tired eyes. "I'll hold on," he murmured, more to himself than to Vita. "I don't have a choice."
She stopped just in front of him, her eyes scanning the fortress in the distance. "So what's the plan? We can't attack head-on in this state. We'll need to be smart, and I don't think you're really in a condition to figure it all out by yourself."
She was right, of course. But exhaustion, pain, and that growing darkness were making every choice harder, every thought more clouded. Yet his friends were in there. And he had to save them.