The cart rumbled along the dirt road, its wooden wheels creaking with each bump and rut. The countryside unfolded on either side, a patchwork of rolling hills and wildflowers, the occasional cluster of trees breaking the horizon. Overhead, the moon hung low, casting a silver light that made the fields of Helianthus grain shimmer like waves. The air smelled of damp earth and the lingering freshness of earlier rain. Kite sat at the front of the cart, his legs dangling over the side, watching the road unroll beneath them. But his mind was elsewhere.
The distant mountains were little more than shadows, their peaks hidden behind clouds, almost as if they were trying to conceal something. Kite had seen them a thousand times before—these same roads, these same stretches of land. For years, his family had traveled these paths, selling their goods in town after town. Each trip was routine. And yet... something about tonight felt off. He couldn't put his finger on it, but the air was thicker, heavier. As if the world was waiting for something.
He glanced back toward the cart, where his mother sat with his younger siblings. His mother's voice was soft, telling one of her usual stories about ancient heroes and forgotten kingdoms. Lissa, his youngest sister, was glued to every word, her eyes wide, lost in the magic of the tale. Kite smiled, but it felt forced. His brothers were asleep, buried in blankets, their small bodies curled up among the crates of goods. It should have been a peaceful night. It should have been like every other night on the road.
But it wasn't.
The road ahead stretched out like a dark ribbon, vanishing into the distance. There were no sounds. No crickets chirping. No rustling leaves. Only the steady clop of the horse's hooves and the groaning of the cart. Even the wind had died down, leaving the night unnaturally still. Kite shifted in his seat, his fingers tapping lightly against the wood. The feeling in his chest—the one he'd been trying to ignore for the last hour—was getting harder to shake. His father sat beside him, quiet as always, but Kite noticed how tightly he held the reins.
The horse slowed, then stopped, letting out a nervous whinny. Kite's father muttered a curse under his breath and tugged gently on the reins, trying to calm the animal. But the horse wasn't having it. Its ears twitched, its eyes wide with fear.
"Something's spooking it," his father murmured, his voice low and tense. He glanced around, scanning the treeline on either side of the road. Kite followed his gaze, squinting into the dark. There was nothing. Just trees and shadows. But the quiet... the quiet was wrong.
Before Kite could ask what was happening, a sharp crack cut through the air. It sounded like a branch snapping underfoot. His heart skipped a beat, and he whipped his head toward the noise. The shadows near the treeline seemed to move, shift. And then they appeared—figures, cloaked in darkness, slipping silently from the trees. There were at least five of them, maybe more, their faces hidden beneath hoods as they crept toward the cart.
Kite froze. Bandits. He'd heard the stories before—tales told by traders of thieves who preyed on travelers at night—but this... this was real. His father was already on his feet, knife in hand, moving faster than Kite had ever seen him.
"Father!" Kite shouted, but it was too late. The attackers were on them.
One of the bandits lunged at the horse, yanking the reins hard. The animal reared up, its terrified whinny piercing the night air. Kite's father leaped from the cart, slashing at the nearest figure, but there were too many of them. They moved like shadows, silent and deadly, their blades catching the moonlight as they closed in.
Kite gripped the side of the cart, his knuckles white. He wanted to help, to move, to do something, but his body wouldn't respond. His legs felt like lead, his mind a whirl of panic. He could only watch as his father fought, his movements growing more frantic with every passing second.
Then his mother screamed. One of the attackers had dragged her from the cart, her hands flailing as she fought to protect Lissa. Kite's heart twisted painfully in his chest. His baby sister... Another figure grabbed Lissa, pulling her away into the dark. Kite's throat tightened. He tried to shout, but the words caught, lodged deep in his chest.
A sickening crack echoed through the night, and Kite turned just in time to see his father fall. The club had caught him on the side of the head, and he collapsed in a heap. Blood pooled beneath him, dark and thick. Kite's heart stopped.
"No!" The scream tore from his throat, raw and broken, but it was too late. His father lay still, motionless.
Pain exploded in Kite's side as one of the attackers turned on him, driving a blade deep into his flesh. His vision blurred, the world tilting and spinning. He collapsed against the cart, his breath ragged, the sounds of the fight fading into a dull roar. Darkness crawled in at the edges of his vision. The last thing he saw was a shadow, towering over him.
---
When Kite opened his eyes, the world was different. It wasn't the night sky or the familiar fields he was used to. It was something else. The scent of damp earth filled his nose, mixed with the smell of pine. He lay still for a moment, letting the cool air settle over him, trying to understand why his body felt so heavy, why his mind was so foggy.
He blinked. His surroundings slowly came into focus. A room. Small, dimly lit. Rough wooden walls. A window high up, letting in a sliver of daylight. He was lying on a bed—hard, with rough linens that scratched at his skin. His mind was a mess, a tangled web of confusion and pain.
He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through his side, making him gasp. His hand instinctively went to the wound, the bandage wrapped tight around his torso. He remembered the knife. The fight. His father...
His father.
The memory was there for a moment, then gone, slipping away like water through his fingers. The images were blurry, disjointed. His heart raced as he tried to piece it all together, but nothing made sense.
The door creaked open, and Kite's head jerked toward the sound. An elderly woman stepped into the room, her face lined with concern. She smiled gently as she walked toward him, her hands clasped in front of her.
"You're awake," she said softly, her voice soothing. "I wasn't sure when you'd come to."
Kite stared at her, trying to find the words. His throat felt dry, and when he opened his mouth to speak, only a rasp came out. Finally, after a long pause, he managed, "Where... where am I?"
The woman's smile softened. "You're safe," she said. "You're in Verdelune. My husband and I found you on the road—barely alive. You've been through something terrible."
Verdelune. The name sounded familiar, but it was distant, hazy. Kite's thoughts were still scattered, fragments of memories flashing in and out. He tried to remember more, to piece it together, but all he got was emptiness.
The woman stood, giving him one last, gentle smile. "Rest now," she said softly. "It'll come back to you in time."
Kite lay back against the bed, his body sinking into the mattress. His eyes drifted closed, but sleep didn't come easy. The emptiness in his mind gnawed at him, a black void that swallowed everything. And somehow, he knew... when the memories returned, they wouldn't bring comfort.
They would bring pain.