Liam knelt down in the dirt, his hands trembling as he pressed them together in prayer. "I pray for your blessing with a pious heart. Under your light, my heart is as solid as a rock," he recited in his mind, though his words faltered. The prayer didn't come easily to him; sometimes a phrase would slip from his memory, leaving him to mutter half-remembered lines, filling the gaps with other prayer words he knew.
It wasn't that his faith was weak or that Leon's grave warnings were lost on him. No, he believed every word. The issue was the sheer length of the sacred text; the elaborate verses chanted by priests in the grand church halls. Liam, a simple young man, had never been able to memorize it all. In the past, he'd relied on the collective prayers of others, letting their voices guide him, never needing to know the full verses by heart. He had always imagined a different life for himself; one as a soldier in Rolandar, like his father before him. The thought of becoming a clergyman or memorizing scripture had never crossed his mind.
He glanced down at the small, jagged stone in his hand. It looked insignificant, broken and worn, like just another shard of rubble in the cursed land they now wandered. "Can this really help?" he thought. His fingers ran over the rough edges as doubt gnawed at him. The oppressive, evil energy of the surrounding wasteland seeped into his bones, making him anxious, stirring up old fears. Stories of this place swirled in his head, tales he had once dismissed as mere bedtime stories meant to scare children into behaving.
But here, in the heart of the Cursed Land, those old tales felt all too real. The legend spoke of greedy men; kings, knights, explorers, who had ventured into these desolate plains in search of unimaginable treasures. None had ever returned, lost forever to the Plains of Despair. Even in the versions where heroes managed to come back, they weren't the same. They returned as cursed beings, twisted into monsters by the dark magic of this forsaken land.
Liam's heartbeat quickened as the weight of those stories pressed on him. He looked toward Leon, who was crouched in the distance, drawing something intricate in the dirt. A flicker of relief passed through him. If it weren't for Leon, he'd still be a slave, shackled and beaten, dragged through life like an animal. Liam shuddered, thinking how close he had come to dying at the hands of a cruel slave owner. Despite the constant danger they were in now, he trusted Leon, this strange, mysterious companion who had helped free him.
But even if they survived this cursed place, what then? What future awaited him?
Liam's gaze returned to the stone in his hand. The doubt that had gnawed at him now turned to bitterness. He squeezed the stone tightly, his hand trembling with suppressed rage. 'Yes, I survived… but what about my sister?' His heart clenched as the image of his village rose before him, vivid and brutal. The memory of the thugs rampaging through his home, of their violence, of his sister... He had tried to block it out, but it haunted him relentlessly. His sister's terrified face flashed before him, her body brutalized, her spirit crushed.
It could have been a nightmare, a grotesque vision of horror, but it was all too real. He had fled Kantadar, leaving her behind to suffer at the hands of those monsters. 'How could I have abandoned her?'
His breath caught in his throat as the image of his sister shifted in his mind, her face twisting into something monstrous, a reflection of his deepest fears. Her suffering, her screams, Liam could hear them even now, echoing in the dark recesses of his mind. His vision blurred with tears, and the faces of his family appeared before him, tormenting him. His father's face, lifeless and cold, stared back at him from a headless body, the disappointment in his father's eyes burning through him.
Liam's knees buckled as the weight of his guilt and shame crushed him. Tears spilled freely down his face, his breath ragged. 'I am alone now,' he thought bitterly. 'How long will it take to find her? Is she even still alive?'
Suddenly, he felt warmth envelop him, a sensation so familiar, so comforting that he instinctively leaned into it. He looked up, his tear-filled eyes widening in disbelief. His mother stood before him, her face soft and gentle, her arms wrapped around him in a warm embrace.
"Don't cry anymore, my lovely little wild horse," she whispered, her voice soothing like a lullaby. "My brave child."
"Mom... mom," Liam choked out, clinging to her desperately, burying his face in her robes. For a fleeting moment, everything was right. The terror of the cursed land, the agony of his memories, it all melted away in her embrace.
But then, a harsh, shrill laughter cut through the air like a blade. Liam's heart seized in his chest. His mother's warmth vanished as if it had never been, and he snapped his eyes open, filled with dread. The laughter grew louder, more menacing, echoing through the cursed plains. His mother's face, once kind and tender, twisted into something grotesque. Terror gripped him as the vision shattered, leaving him once again in the heart of the cursed land, utterly alone.
Suddenly, the ground seemed to give way beneath Liam's feet. He felt himself plummeting, spiraling downward into the abyss. Countless shadowy hands reached up from the darkness, their cold, clammy fingers wrapping around his mother, dragging her deeper and deeper into the black void. He reached out, desperate to grasp her hand, but the distance between them only grew. His family, the ones he loved most, were trampled before his eyes. Their bodies, broken and bloodied, were slashed by the cruel blades of the thugs. He could see their faces contorting in pain, but his voice was paralyzed in his throat. He howled, his mouth wide open, yet no sound came out. His screams were swallowed by the oppressive silence.
And then, everything went quiet. Too quiet.
Liam stood frozen, staring ahead at his sister, who stood before him, her body drenched in blood. Her once bright eyes were now dull, staring at him with a sorrowful, knowing smile. The sight tore at his heart, twisting it in ways he hadn't thought possible.
"You are the only one left alive," she whispered, her voice barely audible but cutting through the silence like a knife. "Why, Liam? Why didn't you come for me? Why didn't you save me?"
Her words struck him like a blow, and the guilt surged through him, heavier than the darkness around him. In the crimson haze of his vision, everything blurred, but one figure stood out. A shadow, unmistakable and hateful.
*Yes… it's him,* a voice in his mind hissed. *He's the one stopping you. He's the reason you couldn't save her.*
But Liam's mind rebelled, fighting the dark whispers. *No… no, he's helping me. He saved me.*
His face contorted in agony as the struggle tore him apart. His muscles tensed, his jaw clenched, his mind split between two realities, between the guilt of his failure and the hope Leon represented.
'He needs you,' the voice persisted, growing colder, darker. 'He's using you. He's a hypocrite, Liam. He just needs you to do his bidding, and you're too cowardly to see it. You've been given a reason to live, but it's not your own.'
"No!" Liam cried, his mind screaming against the accusation. "I'm not a coward. I'm not!"
His sister's bloodstained arms reached out, wrapping around him from behind. Her embrace felt heavy, her presence suffocating. She leaned in close, her breath hot against his ear. "Prove it," she whispered softly, her voice gentle and haunting. "Prove it to me, my dear brother…"
Tears welled up in Liam's eyes, blurring his vision. He was torn between the weight of his failures and the desperate need to prove that he wasn't the coward he feared he might be.
In the midst of his turmoil, he heard a voice, a steady, clear chant that pierced through the darkness. "Saint Sol, we bow our heads and look up. Its light is like a torch, blessing all things. The beginning of heaven and earth, the mother of all things. We pray to the sun to see, give wisdom, and give courage. I obey the command of Ilarial, show mercy, and entrust protection. May the light of glory cleanse my soul forever, guide me to be innocent, without darkness, pure as before, and finally reach heaven."
It was Brandon, reciting the church's prayers with practiced ease. He moved swiftly along the rocky shoreline, his hands deftly searching for the green stones that Leon had described. Despite not knowing exactly what Leon planned to do with these mysterious stones, Brandon worked diligently, not daring to neglect the task. The hope of their escape from this cursed land rested entirely on Leon, and Brandon knew it.
Brandon had survived two near-death encounters beyond his imagination. Though he never openly spoke of the power Leon had displayed, he couldn't deny it. Leon wasn't just a mere man, he was something more. Brandon had become certain in his heart that Leon was a wild warlock, one of those spellcasters who existed outside the church's strict control over magic. The power he wielded wasn't a miracle of the Holy Sun but rather raw magic, something Brandon had read about in hushed tones.
As a nobleman's son, Brandon had a deeper understanding of spellcasters and magic than Liam, the commoner boy. He knew what spellcasters could do and more importantly, he knew the church's harsh stance toward them. In the Kingdom of Serrian, anyone found to possess magical abilities, regardless of status or age, was forcibly taken by the church's "Ring of Law." Those who resisted were executed without mercy. Even those who complied were often never seen again, vanishing into the church's control. Some were rumored to return years later as church clergy, but many simply disappeared.
Now Brandon understood why Leon had insisted they head north, toward the Kingdom of Orland. Unlike Serrian, where spellcasters faced oppression, Orland was more lenient toward warlocks. They didn't follow the harsh doctrines of the Holy Sun and allowed sorcerers to live more freely.
Brandon found several dark green stones, marked with water patterns just as Leon had described. He carefully wrapped them in a cloth, his mind focused on the task. He stood, preparing to return to his companions, when something caught his eye. His heart skipped a beat.
He froze, eyes wide with terror. "Leon!" he shouted, his voice cracking with urgency. "Behind you! Watch out!"
There was a dark shadow creeping closer, moving with unnatural speed toward Leon, who was still absorbed in his work.
Leon crouched low in the forest, carefully tracing the intricate runes into the dirt with stone powder. His mind was completely absorbed in the ancient symbols, the forest around him silent except for the faint trickle of the nearby stream. Suddenly, a piercing shout shattered the stillness. It was Brandon's voice, shrill and full of urgency.
Startled, Leon froze, his hand hovering above the rune he'd been working on. But instinct kicked in before his thoughts could catch up. He threw himself to the ground, rolling awkwardly to the side just as something sliced through the air with a vicious hiss. A heavy thud followed, a sword embedding deep into the earth, cutting through the very spot where he had been crouched just moments before. The runes he had so carefully drawn were obliterated in an instant.
Leon's heart pounded, cold sweat beading on his forehead. He quickly scrambled to his feet, eyes darting to his would-be attacker. Standing behind him, silent and menacing, was Liam, their companion, who had moments ago been collecting materials by the stream. But something was terribly wrong. Liam's face was twisted in a feral expression, his eyes wide and bloodshot, with streams of crimson tears trickling down his cheeks.
If it hadn't been for Brandon's warning, Leon realized, he would have been skewered by that sword. His voice trembled with a mixture of shock and anger as he shouted, "Are you insane, Liam?!"
But Liam didn't respond. He only stared, his breath ragged, his grip on the sword unnaturally tight. His once familiar gaze had turned to something vacant and predatory, like he no longer recognized Leon. It was as though Liam wasn't even there anymore. His bloodstained eyes glistened with an unholy fury.
"Liam!" Leon shouted again, desperation creeping into his voice as he backed away, his feet crunching the forest floor. But Liam remained eerily silent, his body tense like a coiled spring ready to strike.
Leon felt the rough bark of a tree press against his back. There was nowhere else to go. Liam raised his sword once more, his muscles rippling with unnatural strength, and brought it down in a terrifying arc. Leon barely managed to hurl himself sideways, the blade missing him by inches.
The sword bit into the tree trunk with a sickening crunch, sending shards of wood flying in every direction. Leon stared, wide-eyed, as the blade cleaved straight through the thick tree, splitting it in half as though it were nothing more than a branch. With a groan, the tree toppled, crashing to the ground and sending up a plume of dust and leaves.
Leon's gaze shifted to Liam's arm, his breath catching in his throat. The force of the strike had bent the boy's arm grotesquely, the bones twisted and deformed under the strain. But then, before Leon's eyes, Liam's arm began to snap and crackle as the bones realigned themselves, twisting back into place with sickening ease. It was as if his body were no longer bound by the natural limits of flesh and bone.
"What... what the hell is this?" Brandon muttered, her voice trembling as she stood frozen nearby, watching the horrifying scene unfold.
Before Leon could respond, a soft, chilling voice echoed in his mind, a voice that didn't belong to anyone around him.
"Tsk, you were almost too slow," the voice said, dripping with sarcasm. "Run, Leon. If you value your life, run. He's not your friend anymore."
Leon recognized the voice, it was the girl, the mysterious one who spoke only to him from within his mind. He didn't need to be told twice. Without hesitation, he turned and bolted into the dense jungle, his breath ragged and his heart racing. "Brandon!" he shouted. "Liam's possessed! Forget him, just run!"
Behind him, Liam let out a feral scream, a sound that was more beast than human. The possessed boy tore through the forest after them, his roars of rage sending chills down Leon's spine. The ground shook beneath his heavy, thudding steps as he gave chase.
Leon darted through the trees, dodging branches and leaping over fallen logs as he tried to put as much distance between himself and the possessed Liam as possible. His mind raced just as fast as his feet. **What in the world had happened to him?** Liam had been fine just moments ago, there had been no warning, no signs. Leon's thoughts swirled in panic as he called out silently to the voice in his head.
"What's going on? How did this happen? Why did Liam just... snap like that?"
The girl's voice came again, calmer this time, but laced with a grimness that made Leon's stomach churn. "I warned you before. This is a danger worse than death. His soul has been corrupted, targeted by the demons of the spiritual realm."
Leon's chest tightened at the word. "Demons? Can he be saved? Is there any way to help him?"
A surprised chuckle echoed in his mind. "Help him? He almost cut you in half, and you still want to help him?"
"That wasn't Liam. It was the demon!" Leon shot back, dodging a low branch as he ran. "There has to be a way, just tell me how to stop it!"
The voice hesitated for a moment. "Well, yes, there's always the option of... getting rid of him," she said nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather. "But fine, fine. There might be a way to deal with it. Though, I suggest you focus on not dying first."
Leon gritted his teeth and kept running, feeling the ground tremble beneath him as Liam's roars grew closer, the possessed boy relentless in his pursuit.