Finding the graveyard wasn't difficult; it lay on the opposite side of the kingdom, surrounded by rugged, rocky terrain. The vast expanse stretched before me, littered with countless burials. The entrance, though not grand, was framed by two ancient yew trees, their twisted branches intertwining above to form a natural arch. The place wasn't particularly eerie—just silent, and notably unguarded.
The old man's name was Vincent. He was a player, and like all players, his death would only come in two ways: either by choosing to become mortal or having his rune shattered by another rune holder. I began my search for his grave as the sun dipped lower in the sky. By the time night fell, I had only scoured half of the grounds and hadn't thought much about where I'd spend the night.
I remembered the refugee card I'd been given—two nights of stay in any hotel and up to five meals. That was all the luxury I had left. My stomach rumbled, reminding me of the couple of drinks I'd accepted from the villagers, which was far from satisfying. I estimated about ten percent of the graveyard remained unchecked. I'd finish the search tomorrow, I thought, and began making my way toward the exit.
"Leaving already?" a voice suddenly asked, breaking the stillness.
I froze, heart thudding. My eyes darted around, scanning the shadows, but there was no one. Wait... this is a fantasy world, I thought. Could ghosts or spirits exist here?
"No," replied the messenger, calmly dispelling the notion.
Then who could it be? I asked aloud, "Who are you?"
"Hmm... my name is Vincent, but people call me the madman."
Vincent? I felt a cold sensation wash over me. "Where are you?" I asked, unease creeping in.
"Well... you passed me about two hours ago."
Two hours ago? I thought back. That was when I had first entered the graveyard. My pulse quickened as I reached the entrance, eyes wide, scanning the archway. And there he was.
Sitting casually atop the arch, one leg dangling, was an old man. His long white beard hung down, swaying in the breeze, and his dark, ragged clothes clung to his thin frame. Had he been there the entire time?
"So, what were you searching for?" he asked casually, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity.
I didn't respond immediately, choosing instead to scan him carefully. There was no visible rune on him, which only deepened my confusion. "I was searching for you," I finally admitted. "I'm a beginner... and I thought maybe I could learn something about getting my rune from you."
The old man didn't seem particularly interested, his eyes drifting as though the conversation barely held his attention. I began to doubt I had any chance of impressing him, but before I could say more, he surprised me.
"Sure," he said, his lips curving into a faint smile. "After watching you frantically searching for my grave, I suppose I can lend you some help."
I was stunned—and relieved. My two hours of searching hadn't been in vain after all. Still, I couldn't help feeling a bit annoyed at the thought of him just watching me the whole time, letting me wander aimlessly.
"Where's your rune? Can I see it?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
He paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he assessed me. I stood still, not daring to move. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he raised his thumb and pointed behind him. I followed his gesture, my gaze falling on the imposing structure of the palace in the distance.
My eyes widened. "I... I don't follow," I stammered, unsure of what he meant.
"The king has it," he replied, his voice calm and steady.
What?! I shouted in my mind.
"What do you know about the runes, boy?" Vincent asked, his voice sharp and curious.
"Not much," I admitted. "Just that it grants you power and a way into the game."
"So, you want to play the game, huh?" he asked, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Yes, but for that, I need to find a rune first," I said, eager to push the conversation forward.
"You don't find the rune, child. The rune comes to you, only when it deems you worthy. It watches you, follows you, from the moment you fall into this world, but it will only reveal itself once you've proven yourself." He stood up slowly, balanced on the arch. His voice took on a distant tone, as if he was recalling something deep in his memory. "This is where my rune appeared to me... back when this land was covered in flowers and grasses. It asked me, 'Do you like flowers? Do you like shrubs, even if they are poisonous? Do you cherish trees, even when they are withered and dry?' I didn't dare answer, but then it spoke again. 'You want me? Then protect this land, even if it costs you your life, and I will offer myself to you.'"
I was confused, unsure if I believed him. Runes could speak? Was he lying? Or was he really mad, as people had described him?
"Why did the king take your rune?" I asked, cutting through my doubts.
Vincent's gaze drifted over the graveyard. "Look around," he said, gesturing with a sweep of his hand. "This land, once filled with flowers, is now littered with the rotting dead." He stared up at the sky, as if reliving a distant memory. "The king approached me that day. He wanted to turn this place into a graveyard, a resting ground for his expanding kingdom. That's when I understood why my rune had asked me to guard this land."
His expression darkened. "The king at that time was arrogant, a man who wanted absolute control over his realm. I refused to let him desecrate this place, and he wasn't pleased."
Vincent's voice grew cold as he continued. "He sent his soldiers after me. They surrounded me, weapons drawn, and I fought back with everything I had. The air was thick with the clash of steel, and I felt every blow."
He paused, remembering the struggle. "As I lay on the grass, blood pooling around me, something stirred. Vines began to grow. They crept up from the ground, wrapping around my wounds, pulling them closed. I healed right there in the middle of the battlefield. The vines coiled around my neck, and there it was—my rune, glowing like a brilliant emerald. It dangled there, shining in the light. The Thornveil had chosen me."
His lips curled into a small smile, as if savoring the memory. But it quickly faded.
"The king wasn't impressed by my resistance. He had a rune of his own, the Riptide. We fought—Thornveil against Riptide. The land trembled beneath us. My vines twisted and surged, trying to strangle the power of the king's waves, but the Riptide was too strong. His waters crushed my defenses, flooded the battlefield, and drowned my power."
Vincent's smile disappeared entirely. "The king won. And though he was impressed by the strength of my rune, he still took it for himself. But the Thornveil... it wouldn't listen to him. He tried giving it to his generals, his family, anyone he trusted. But the rune refused them all."
He looked back at me, his eyes heavy with the weight of his memories. "As punishment, he left me here. Guarding this graveyard he built on the land I once cherished. A prisoner in the place I once vowed to protect."
"I had thought the kings were good guys," I said, frowning. "I mean, the rune obeys him, and the first king was a good man too."
Vincent let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Child, you know nothing. The runes don't decide if someone is good or evil. They don't care about morality the way we do."
He paused, his gaze distant as if seeing something far away. "On the day Aurelius fought the enemies, his rune probably asked him to protect the remaining women. It might have whispered in the ears of that tiny boy, just eight years old. And when he fulfilled it—when he saved them all—the rune revealed itself to him." Vincent paused for a breath, as though the weight of what he was saying needed time to settle.
"But a rune could just as easily ask a man to kill a thousand people, and if he does it, the rune will obey him. If he refuses, the rune cleanses itself and offers another challenge—save a thousand lives, and once he does that, the rune would obey him instead."
His eyes locked onto mine, his expression severe. "There is no such thing as a good or bad rune, boy. There's only a good man and a devil."
I nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. So it wasn't about the rune at all. It was about the choices people made... "I think I understand now," I said, though the revelation still felt heavy in my mind.
The night had cooled, the air filled with the soft murmur of the passing river nearby. Vincent's voice softened, but the gravity remained. "The rune isn't just some tool you use to get a ticket into the game. It's not a weapon for your own selfish agendas. It's a duty, a blessing from the heavens. It watches, waits, and chooses—but it's the man's heart that decides what that power becomes."
His words hung in the air like a quiet truth, as vast and endless as the graveyard around us.