The cool night breeze brushed against Kael's face as he stumbled forward through the thick forest, his siblings' small hands clutching his arms. The weight of their trust and fear pressed on him, far heavier than their physical presence. His legs ached, his breath came in uneven gasps, but he pushed forward. Behind them, faint glimmers of orange danced against the night sky—the last remnants of their burning village. Each step away from the destruction twisted a knot deeper into his chest.
Lyra led the way, her sharp eyes darting through the shadows of the trees, ever watchful. She moved with quiet precision, her bow gripped tightly in one hand. Dren trailed at the rear, silent and unusually solemn, his youthful curiosity buried beneath the weight of what they'd witnessed.
After what felt like hours, they reached a small clearing surrounded by tall, looming pines. Lyra raised her hand, signaling them to stop. "We'll rest here," she said softly, her voice edged with urgency.
Kael gently lowered his younger siblings, Marek and Elara, to the ground. Both children clung to him, their tear-streaked faces buried in his side. He stroked their hair in silence, his gaze fixed on the dirt beneath them.
Lyra crouched nearby, scanning the area for threats before finally relaxing her posture. She glanced at Kael. "We've put some distance between us and the village, but it's not enough. We need to keep moving at first light."
Kael nodded numbly, his thoughts elsewhere. The image of his mother flashed in his mind—her frantic last stand, the fear in her eyes as she fought to protect them. His stomach churned.
"Kael," Dren's voice broke the silence. He knelt beside them, pulling a small pouch from his belt. "There's not much left, but we've got some bread." He handed a piece to Kael, who took it without looking up.
Kael broke the bread in half and gave the pieces to Marek and Elara. "Eat," he said softly.
Marek shook his head. "I'm not hungry," he whispered, his voice trembling.
"You need to eat," Kael insisted, his tone firm but not unkind. He placed the bread in Marek's hands. "It'll help keep you strong."
Elara nibbled at her piece, her tearful eyes darting between Kael and the others. The silence that followed was heavy, each of them lost in their own thoughts.
After a while, Kael spoke, his voice low. "Do you think... do you think Aiden is still alive?"
Lyra hesitated, her gaze dropping to the ground. "I don't know," she admitted. "But if anyone could survive that... it's him."
Kael nodded, clinging to her words like a lifeline. Aiden's strength had always seemed unshakable, but even that belief felt fragile now.
As the night deepened, Lyra kept watch while the others tried to rest. Kael sat beside his siblings, stroking Elara's hair as she drifted off to sleep. His mind raced with guilt and anger. He should've done more, fought harder, stayed longer.
"Stop it," Lyra said quietly, as if reading his thoughts. She sat beside him, her bow resting across her lap.
"Stop what?" Kael muttered.
"Blaming yourself," she replied. "I can see it on your face. What happened... none of it was your fault."
Kael clenched his fists. "She's dead because of me."
"She's dead because those monsters attacked," Lyra countered, her voice steady. "Your mother gave everything to protect you. Don't dishonor her sacrifice by drowning in guilt."
Her words stung, but Kael knew she was right. He nodded, though the ache in his chest didn't lessen.
---
Sometime before dawn, Kael woke with a start. At first, he thought it was the crackling of the dying fire that had roused him, but then he heard it—a faint rustling in the bushes nearby.
He reached for the small knife he'd tucked into his belt, his heart pounding. "Lyra," he whispered.
She was already on her feet, her bow drawn. Dren stirred as well, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his dagger.
The rustling grew louder, closer. Kael held his breath, his grip tightening on the knife. Then, a shadow emerged from the trees.
"Who's there?" Lyra demanded, her arrow aimed at the figure.
"Easy," came a gruff voice. The figure stepped into the light of the fire, revealing a man with a weathered face and tattered clothes. Scars crisscrossed his cheeks, and his eyes were sunken but alert.
Kael stood, shielding his siblings behind him. "What do you want?"
The man raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm not here to hurt you," he said. "Saw what happened back at the village. Thought you might need some supplies."
He set down a small bag and stepped back, his movements slow and deliberate.
Kael hesitated, glancing at Lyra. She nodded but kept her arrow trained on the stranger.
"What's in the bag?" Kael asked.
"Food, water, a few basic tools," the man replied. "Nothing fancy, but enough to get by."
"Why would you help us?"
The man shrugged. "Because someone helped me once. Figured it's time I did the same."
Kael stepped forward cautiously, picking up the bag. Inside, he found bread, a flask of water, and a small bundle of cloth containing flint and a knife.
"Thank you," Kael said, though his tone was wary.
The man nodded. "Don't thank me yet. The road ahead won't be easy."
Before Kael could ask what he meant, the man turned and disappeared into the shadows of the forest.
---
Later, as Kael tried to sleep, the memory of the stranger's words lingered in his mind. The road ahead won't be easy. What did he know?
When sleep finally came, it was anything but restful.
In his dream, Kael found himself standing in a vast, empty expanse. The ground beneath him was dark and cold, and the air felt thick and heavy. A faint hum filled the silence, growing louder with each passing moment.
A figure emerged from the darkness, shrouded in shadow. Kael couldn't see their face, but there was something hauntingly familiar about their presence.
"You are not ready," the figure said, their voice echoing as if coming from every direction.
Kael tried to respond, but no sound came out. The hum intensified, resonating in his chest.
Images flashed before his eyes—a battlefield littered with broken swords, a towering castle engulfed in flames, a shining blade buried in the earth.
Then he saw it: a figure clad in dark armor, standing tall and unyielding amidst the chaos. Their cape billowed in the wind, and their eyes burned with an intensity that made Kael's chest tighten.
"Seek the truth," the voice whispered, fading into the void. "But beware... the cost."
Kael jolted awake, his heart racing. The fire had burned out, and the forest was eerily silent. He glanced around, half-expecting the shadowy figure to appear again.
But there was nothing—just the quiet rustle of leaves and the steady breathing of his companions.
Kael sat up, running a hand through his hair. He couldn't shake the feeling that the dream was more than just a nightmare. It felt... significant, though he couldn't explain why.
Whatever it meant, one thing was clear: the path ahead would be darker and more dangerous than he'd ever imagined. And the answers he sought would come at a cost he wasn't sure he was ready to pay.