Chapter 8: The Chase
The air in the room thickened, tension pressing down on Hayyan like a heavy weight. His mind raced, heart pounding in his chest as the knights stepped forward, their armored boots clanging against the wooden floor. He didn't need to hear another word to understand what was coming. They suspected him. They knew something, and if they discovered his secret, it would be the end.
Hayyan's fingers twitched as he quickly weighed his options. The knights were between him and the front door, their heavy armor and training making them impossible to outrun. But behind him—the back door and the dense forest beyond it. He knew it well, better than anyone else in the village.
Without thinking, he reached deep within himself, tapping into the earth's power. His control had grown stronger over the years, and now, desperation fueled his magic. The ground beneath the knights shifted. With a sudden rumble, the wooden floorboards splintered as thick vines and soil surged upward, wrapping around their legs like iron chains.
"What in the—?!" one of the knights shouted, stumbling as the earth held him fast. Panic flashed in their eyes as they struggled against the impossible force binding them.
"Witchcraft!" another knight yelled, trying to slash at the vines with his sword, but it was no use. The earth was stronger.
Hayyan didn't wait to see their next move. He bolted for the back door, his heart pounding in his ears. The wind howled behind him as he flung open the door and sprinted into the forest, the trees blurring past him.
"Stop him!" he heard one of the knights bellow from inside the house. The sound of clanking armor and frantic shouts filled the air as they freed themselves and gave chase. But Hayyan had a head start, and he wasn't about to waste it.
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The forest was dense, the towering trees casting long shadows in the fading light of the afternoon. Hayyan's lungs burned as he ran, his legs aching with every step. He could hear the knights crashing through the underbrush behind him, their heavy footfalls growing fainter the deeper he went. His instincts screamed at him to keep moving, to not slow down for even a second.
The fear gripped him tightly. His mother's warnings echoed in his mind, her gentle voice urging him to be careful, to hide his magic from the world. But it was too late for that now. They knew.
Branches whipped at his face, leaving thin cuts along his cheeks and arms, but he didn't care. All that mattered was escaping. If the knights caught him, they would drag him back to the village in chains. He could almost see it—the noose, the jeering crowd, the cold look in his father's eyes.
No. He couldn't let that happen.
He reached out with his magic again, calling to the wind to help him. A strong gust swept through the forest, scattering leaves and throwing the knights off course as they stumbled to regain their footing. It wasn't much, but it bought him time. He couldn't sustain the magic for long, not after the surge of power he'd already used, but it was enough to keep him ahead.
The chase stretched on for what felt like hours, the sun dipping lower in the sky as Hayyan weaved through the thick underbrush, his breath ragged and uneven. He had grown up playing in these woods, exploring every hidden nook and cranny. He knew the paths the knights wouldn't, the places he could hide if he needed to.
But two days of relentless pursuit took its toll.
By the second day, exhaustion weighed heavily on Hayyan's limbs. His feet were blistered, his clothes torn and caked with mud. He hadn't eaten, hadn't rested, and the adrenaline that had fueled him for so long was fading fast. His magic, too, was growing weaker, the constant strain of controlling the elements leaving him drained.
The knights were still following him, their persistence unmatched. He could hear them calling out to each other, their voices growing louder as they closed in. But they were slower now, just as exhausted as he was. Hayyan knew the forest had worked in his favor, the rugged terrain wearing them down.
By the end of the second day, Hayyan found himself standing at the edge of a steep ravine, the deep gorge stretching out below him like a vast abyss. The sound of rushing water echoed from somewhere far beneath, but there was no way down without risking a fall that would surely kill him.
He stood there, panting, his legs trembling with fatigue. The knights were still out there, somewhere in the forest behind him. But as the minutes ticked by, their voices grew fainter, until eventually, there was only silence.
They had given up.
For now.
Hayyan collapsed to the ground, his body shaking with relief and exhaustion. He had made it. He was alive. He didn't know if it was over. The knights might return, and w they did, they would come with more men, more force.
He lay there beneath the trees, staring up at the darkening sky as the stars began to flicker into view. His mother was gone. His father had betrayed him. And now, he was alone.
But he was free.
For the first time in days, Hayyan allowed himself to breathe deeply. The world had changed for him, irrevocably. He couldn't go back to the village. Not ever. But he had his magic. He had his wits. And somehow, he would survive.
The boy who once dreamed of controlling the world's magic now faced the unknown, a fugitive in his own homeland.