The cottage was cloaked in an uneasy silence. The air inside felt thick, like the weight of tomorrow had already settled in, suffocating the space. I glanced at my mother, her face pale, eyes wide and red from crying. She sat at the small wooden table, her hands trembling as she fiddled with a piece of cloth. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, its warmth unable to reach any of us.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. This was my last night with them—maybe forever—and I couldn't let it be like this.
"Mom," I said softly, walking over to her and kneeling at her side. She didn't respond at first, her fingers still gripping that cloth like it was a lifeline. "Mom, please. Look at me."
Her eyes finally flicked toward mine, glassy with unshed tears. "You can't go, Lucan. You just... can't." Her voice cracked, fragile like the world we were living in.
"I'll be fine," I said, forcing a smile that even I didn't believe. "I've been training. You've seen it yourself. I'm not just any boy going to fight. I'll come back. I promise."
"Lucan..." She choked on my name, reaching out to cup my face. Her touch was gentle, but her fear weighed heavily in her shaking hands. "We could run. Leave all this behind. The farm... it's not worth your life."
I shook my head slowly, taking her hands in mine. "We both know what will happen if we run. They'll punish you, take everything, raise the taxes even more. You and Dad would be left with nothing."
She bit her lip, the pain etched into her expression deepening. "But you're my son... my only child. How can I just let you go?"
"I have to," I whispered, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "For us. For all of us."
She broke then, sobbing quietly into my chest as I held her close. I wanted to stay like that forever, to freeze this moment, but the world outside was merciless. The war wasn't going to stop just because we were scared.
From the open window, I could see my father sitting outside on the old, worn-out bench, staring off toward the mountains in the distance. His broad shoulders sagged under the weight of the world, his gaze fixed on the jagged peaks of Varyn, the neighboring kingdom that had become our greatest enemy. He hadn't said much since the decree was issued. He was a man of few words, but tonight, his silence felt different—like the silence of a man bracing himself for the inevitable.
I stood and walked outside, the chill of the evening biting at my skin. My father didn't move, didn't acknowledge my presence, but I knew he heard me approach.
"I'm ready, Dad," I said, though my voice wavered. "I'll try my best too survive this. For you. For Mom."
He didn't turn to look at me, but after a long pause, he spoke, his voice low and strained. "It's not you I don't trust, Lucan. It's the world. I've seen what it does to men—good men. This war... it eats people alive."
I didn't have a response to that. What could I say? He wasn't wrong.
For a long while, we stood in silence, the only sound the faint rustle of the wind sweeping through the trees. Tomorrow was coming, and nothing would stop it. We could only hold on to the hope that we would survive whatever was coming our way.
As the night deepened, we headed back inside to spend our last night together. None of us spoke again, and the silence that followed was one of resignation, of unspoken fears and fragile hope. The kind of silence that hangs in the air when you know everything is about to change.
The next morning, I awoke to the smell of stew—a rare treat, and my favorite. I pushed the thin blanket aside and stood up, stretching as the weight of the day settled into my bones. Today was the day. The day everything would change.
I walked into the small kitchen where my parents sat by the table. My mother had made game stew with carrots and potatoes, a meal she'd usually reserve for special occasions. She smiled weakly as I sat down, but the exhaustion in her eyes was impossible to miss. They hadn't slept. Not a wink.
Dad, on the other hand, was quiet—too quiet. His brow was furrowed, and he stared at his hands, his fingers clenching and unclenching. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. I ate in silence, trying to savor each bite even though the lump in my throat made it hard to swallow.
After a few minutes, I noticed Mom nudging Dad under the table, giving him a look. She was trying to push him to speak, to do... something. He cleared his throat, glancing at me before letting out a heavy sigh. His voice was rough, the words reluctant.
"Son... follow me outside for a moment," he said, standing up and walking to the door without looking back. "We've got something for you."
I glanced at my mother. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she nodded, urging me to go. I pushed my chair back and followed Dad out into the yard. The air was cool, the sun barely rising over the horizon, casting long shadows over the farm.
Dad walked over to a small storage shed and pulled out a bundle. When he unwrapped it, I saw a suit of armor—not metal, but thick, worn hide. Patches had been sewn together meticulously, reinforced where they could afford it. It wasn't much, but I could see the care that went into making it.
"We made this for you," Dad said quietly, his voice rough. "I know it's not much, but—"
Before he could finish, I stepped forward and hugged him tightly. His words faltered, and for a moment, he just stood there, stiff. Then he relaxed, his large, calloused hands resting on my back.
"Dad," I said, my voice thick. "I swear to you, I will come back. And when I do, I'll change this world. One day, things will be different. So... don't you dare get sick or die before I get the chance to fix it."
His grip on me tightened, and I could feel the unspoken weight of his emotions in the silence between us. Finally, he pulled back, his eyes misty but proud. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. His silence was enough.
As I strapped on the armor and prepared myself for the long journey ahead, I knew that this moment—this promise—was one I'd carry with me. Whatever was waiting for me on the battlefield, I would face it. For them. For the world I wanted to change.
The sun climbed higher into the sky, and in the distance, I could hear the faint sound of footsteps and voices. The time had come.