Elliot could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he urged the horse forward, the reins tight in his hands. The mountains loomed high behind him now, their jagged peaks casting long shadows over the forest as he rode down the narrow, winding path. His escape had been narrow, his mind still racing from the harrowing events with the mercenaries. But there was no time to linger on the past—he had one last delivery to make.
The air was crisp as the morning light began to filter through the trees, and Elliot could see the village nestled on the mountainside ahead. The houses were quaint, built from sturdy stone and wood, their chimneys puffing out light streams of smoke. The village seemed peaceful, perched just above the cliffs, where the land fell away into the vast expanse of the valley below.
Elliot reined in his horse as he entered the village, slowing his pace as the sounds of birds chirping and the distant murmur of the villagers filled the air. He scanned the small town, searching for the right house. His eyes caught the address he had written on a scrap of parchment, matching it to a small cottage with ivy creeping up its walls.
Dismounting with a sigh of relief, his legs aching from the long ride, Elliot approached the door with a mix of exhaustion and apprehension. He knocked lightly, and for a moment, there was only the gentle rustling of leaves. The door creaked open, revealing an old man with deep lines etched into his face. Despite his frailty, the man's eyes still held a spark of strength and resilience.
"Who might you be, son?" the old man asked, his voice rough but carrying an undertone of hope.
Elliot cleared his throat, feeling the weight of the task he had carried for so long. "I'm here with a letter... from your son."
At the mention of his son, the old man's expression softened. His trembling hand reached out, and Elliot carefully placed the letter into his palm. The old man stepped back, allowing the door to open wider. Behind him stood an old woman, her gentle face lined with age but still warm. She gasped softly at the sight of the letter.
The old man's voice cracked with emotion as he broke the seal and unfolded the letter. "From our boy?"
His wife moved closer, resting a comforting hand on his arm as they both began to read. Tears welled up in their eyes, spilling down their cheeks as they absorbed the words. The sunlight streaming through the window cast a golden glow over them, illuminating their faces as they clutched the letter tightly.
"He's alive," the old man whispered, his voice trembling. "After all these years... he's alive."
The old woman let out a soft sob, her hand covering her mouth. She leaned into her husband, and together they stood there, enveloped in a moment of raw emotion, the letter a bridge to a long-lost connection.
Elliot watched, feeling a lump rise in his throat. He hadn't anticipated this job would touch him so deeply. He wiped his eyes quickly, trying to regain his composure. It wasn't the time to get sentimental—there were still dangers on his trail.
"I'm glad I could bring this to you," Elliot said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "But I've got to get going now."
The old man, still holding the letter close, looked up with a teary smile. "Thank you... thank you for bringing our boy back to us."
Elliot nodded, offering a small smile in return before turning to leave. His heart was heavy, and as he stepped out into the cool morning air, he took a deep breath, letting the crisp breeze clear his mind.
The sun had fully risen, casting long shadows over the village. Elliot mounted his horse again, casting one last glance at the old couple standing in the doorway, still holding the letter and each other.
With a determined mutter, he urged his horse forward. "Time to go."
The rhythmic thundering of hooves blended with the frantic beating of his heart as he pushed the horse harder. The dense forest blurred past, but the gnawing sensation of being hunted clung to him. He glanced back, the sense of being pursued growing stronger.
The trees parted, revealing the jagged edge of a cliff overlooking the roaring ocean below. Elliot's heart sank at the sight. His only escape route was cut off by the unforgiving sea.
"Of course it ends at a cliff," Elliot thought grimly. "My luck's just been fantastic lately."
Before he could catch his breath, two figures emerged from the forest's shadows. They moved with unnerving calmness, their presence casting a chilling silence over the scene. The taller figure's gaze locked onto Elliot with cold precision. His eyes, barely visible beneath his hood, glimmered with a chilling detachment. The second assassin circled to Elliot's side, his eyes gleaming like a predator.
Each step of the assassins was deliberate, their movements almost fluid with the wind. Elliot felt the weight of their stares pressing down on him, paralyzing him with their eerie presence. He swallowed hard, his mind racing for a way out, but the reality was brutal: there was none. He was cornered.
"Alright, alright," he said, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Maybe we can talk this out? No need for—"
Without a word, the first assassin flicked his wrist. A gleaming dagger sliced through the air, and Elliot felt a searing pain across his chest. His breath caught, vision blurring, but the pain intensified. The second assassin fired two bolts from his crossbow, their tips glistening with poison.
The bolts struck, one deep into Elliot's shoulder and the other into his heart. A cold wave of numbness washed over him, his legs giving out beneath him. He stumbled backward, teetering on the cliff's edge, the roaring sea below a menacing embrace.
The assassins didn't flinch. They watched in eerie silence as Elliot fell. Their eyes never left him, not even as he plummeted toward the waves. The taller one stepped to the very edge of the cliff, peering down at the crashing waters, his face still concealed in shadow.
For a moment, it seemed like he might follow, but instead, he merely extended his hand, allowing the wind to whip his cloak dramatically. His fingers curled slowly, almost thoughtfully, before he clenched them into a fist. Then, without a word, he turned away. The second assassin followed, both of them disappearing back into the shadows from which they had come, leaving no trace behind except the lingering chill of their presence.
Elliot felt the icy water engulf him, as the world above faded into a muffled roar as darkness swallowed him whole.