With adrenaline pumping through his veins, Dinis left his house in a leap, moving like a shadow through the mist. His heart was pounding frantically, and his only concern was the promise he had made to his parents: to bring help. He barely noticed the ground beneath his feet; his speed seemed superhuman, and the determination in his gaze was unbreakable.
Climbing onto the rooftops, Dinis mentally mapped the quickest route to the neighboring village, the only hope of finding reinforcements in time. His steps were swift and sure, as if he had traversed that path a thousand times. He felt lighter and faster than he had ever experienced, the wind blowing against his face as he crossed the deserted streets.
As soon as he left the village perimeter, he increased his pace even more. With the village disappearing behind him, there was no longer any reason to worry about discretion. He ran with the agility and strength of a horse, perhaps even faster. The weight of the sword on his back was ignored by his body, driven only by the urgency to save his parents.
Five hours. Five hours of a relentless run until his body, finally exhausted, gave in to fatigue. The world around him became a blurred stain, and in an instant, Dinis collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
When he awoke, the first thing he felt was the gentle warmth of the sun on his face. He opened his eyes slowly and realized he was lying on a simple blanket spread over the grass. Sitting up, confused, he looked around and noticed he was in a small clearing by the side of a road, near an unfamiliar village.
"How did I get here?" he wondered, trying to reorganize the fragmented memories of previous events. Within seconds, the images of the past night surged in his mind—the attack, the desperate fight, the promise to his parents.
"I... I have to go back... I need help," he murmured, standing up quickly, urgency taking over his thoughts.
Before he could take a step, the sound of slow clapping came from behind him. Dinis turned, surprised that he hadn't noticed someone so close.
"Impressive," said a deep and hoarse voice, a touch of irony in the tone. "A little Sentinel... and already running as if death itself were chasing you."
Dinis stared at the figure applauding him. The man was leaning against a nearby tree, with a hood casting a dense shadow over his face, obscuring his features. All Dinis could see were the outlines of a firm face and the tips of a beard. He wore dark clothing and a long cloak that hid most of his muscular body. There was something intimidating about his presence, as if he were an experienced warrior.
"Who are you?" Dinis asked, trying to stay calm, though his heart was racing.
"Let's say I'm someone who has seen many things in this world. But I must admit, I don't see a young person like you run such a long distance and wake up with so much energy every day," the man replied, with a smile that Dinis could barely see under the hood.
Dinis frowned, still cautious but feeling a strange sense of security in the presence of that man.
"My village was attacked! I need to go back now! I came only to seek help to save my parents," said Dinis, the unmistakable urgency in his voice.
The man raised an eyebrow, surprised by the determination and maturity in the boy's voice.
"An attack, huh?" the man murmured, scratching his chin. "And you ran five hours to get here without hesitation... curious."
He whistled loudly, and shortly after, a large black horse emerged from among the trees. The mount was majestic and muscular, with a shiny coat and penetrating eyes. It seemed as formidable as the man himself and approached with elegant steps, as if fully aware of its own grandeur.
"Get on. We'll return to your village together," said the man, extending his hand to Dinis.
The boy hesitated for a second, but something in the stranger's posture and words made him trust him. Besides, the man could have harmed him while he slept, but instead had laid him on a blanket and waited for him to wake up.
Dinis took the man's hand and climbed onto the horse, positioning himself just behind him. The horse set off at a firm and swift gallop, moving with an unusual agility for its size. The cold wind blew against Dinis's face as they sped along the road toward the village, and he took the moment to observe the mysterious warrior more closely.
"You... you're a Sentinel, aren't you?" ventured Dinis, hoping for an answer.
The man let out a low laugh.
"Let's say I was once among them. But today, I answer to no one but myself," he said, his tone filled with a strange calm.
Dinis felt a mixture of fascination and respect. The man seemed imbued with a strength and serenity he rarely saw, even in his father.
"Don't you wonder why I'm helping?" asked the man, without turning to face him.
Dinis remained silent for a moment before replying:
"No. I just... feel that you're someone I can trust."
The man smiled under the hood.
"Wise words for someone so young. You're more than you appear, boy," he said. "But remember one thing: trust is a luxury not everyone deserves."
The rest of the journey was silent. Dinis focused on the steady rhythm of the gallop, feeling excitement and fear growing as they approached his village. When they began to see the familiar hills, the apprehension in Dinis's chest intensified.
Finally, upon reaching the village entrance, the man stopped the horse and dismounted, helping Dinis to do the same.
"I need to know where to find your parents," he said, his tone now serious and focused.
Dinis looked around, feeling a pang of pain upon seeing the village covered by the persistent mist and the remnants of destruction.
"They were at our house... we need to get there before it's too late," he replied, his eyes shining with determination.
The man nodded, drawing a long and heavy sword that he kept in a side sheath. The blade was black, like Dinis's, but more ornate, with runes engraved along the metal. He raised his head and, for the first time, Dinis could see his eyes—cold and analytical eyes that seemed to see more than just the present.
"Lead the way. Let's bring your parents back, boy," he said, his voice laden with unwavering confidence.
Dinis nodded and began to run toward the house, with the man right behind him, his presence strong and resolute like a protective shadow. They crossed the ruined streets, dodging bodies and debris, the muffled sound of footsteps and the rustling of the mist making the environment almost surreal.
As they approached the house, Dinis felt a tight knot in his throat. He didn't know what he would find there, but one thing was certain: alongside that mysterious warrior, he was prepared to face anything.