Kael stood frozen in the dark, his eyes locked onto the pair of glowing orbs that stared back at him from the depths of the forest. The air felt thick, heavy, as though the trees themselves were watching him, waiting. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn't move, couldn't breathe. The eyes didn't blink, didn't shift—they just watched him with an unblinking, unsettling calm.
Kael's instincts screamed at him to run, to get away, but his body refused to respond. It felt like an eternity before he finally snapped out of his trance, his legs betraying him as he broke into a sprint, running as fast as he could back to the cave.
The night air was cold against his skin, but his mind was on fire, thoughts racing as his pulse thundered in his ears. He didn't dare look back. The last thing he needed was to confront whatever that was out there in the woods. The eyes. The forest. Everything felt wrong.
He returned to the camp, breathless, trying to push the encounter out of his mind, burying it under the weight of the exhaustion pressing down on him. He sat near the fire, pretending like nothing had happened. Dren and Lyra hadn't noticed his panic. They were busy with their own things, preparing for whatever tomorrow would bring. Kael tried to close his eyes, to sleep, but no matter how hard he tried, the image of those eyes lingered, burned into his mind.
The forest outside seemed to press in on him, as if the shadows had teeth and claws.
---
The next morning came quietly. The air was crisp, the sun filtering through the trees in pale rays of light. Kael had barely slept, and his muscles ached from the strain of keeping his thoughts in check. He was restless, his eyes darting around the camp as though he were waiting for something, anything, to happen.
Dren was the first to move, his quiet steps cutting through the stillness as he set off to find food and firewood. Lyra, always the independent one, wandered off to explore the surrounding area, keeping her eyes peeled for any signs of danger. Kael sat in the cave alone, feeling the weight of the night's events still heavy on his shoulders.
He should have said something. Told the others what he'd seen. But he couldn't. Not yet. He didn't know what it meant, and he didn't want to be seen as weak. He wasn't ready to confront whatever that thing was in the forest, not yet.
Hours passed, and the stillness of the cave became suffocating. Kael tried to keep himself busy, but the sense of unease wouldn't leave him. Every little sound made him jump. The crackling of the fire seemed too loud, too harsh. Every time a branch moved outside, Kael's heart raced. He couldn't escape the feeling that something was wrong.
Then Lyra appeared at the mouth of the cave, her face lit with a look of excitement.
"The mercenaries are gone," she said, breathless. "I don't know where they went, but the village is empty."
Kael's heart skipped a beat. The village. Their home. He stood up without a second thought, urgency flashing in his eyes. Dren returned a moment later, his arms full of firewood and supplies, and Kael wasted no time in telling them to follow him.
The village was still and silent when they arrived. The streets that had once been bustling with life were now eerily quiet. The houses stood empty, the doors ajar as if hastily abandoned. Not a soul in sight.
Kael felt his stomach tighten as he walked through the village, every step taking him closer to the place that had once been his home. He moved with purpose, though his heart weighed heavy in his chest. He needed to check for any sign of life—anything to confirm that his family hadn't been taken, or worse, lost forever.
They each went their separate ways, searching the streets for any familiar faces. Dren and Lyra made their way to the outskirts of the village, while Kael headed toward his family's home.
His breath caught as he reached the door, his heart pounding in his chest. It was just as he remembered, the familiar creak of the door as he pushed it open. The smell of old wood, the lingering scent of his mother's cooking, the faint memory of laughter—everything was gone, replaced with an unbearable emptiness.
Kael's heart dropped when he saw it.
His father's sword was resting on the ground just inside the door, its steel catching the light from the cracked doorway. The hilt was worn from use, the leather wrapped tightly around the handle. It was the same sword his father had carried with him for years, and Kael had always dreamed of one day wielding it himself. But now, it was discarded, abandoned.
He stepped inside, his legs trembling, the weight of the room pressing down on him. His eyes scanned the room quickly, and that's when he saw it.
His mother's body, still lying where she had fallen. The sight hit him like a physical blow, and for a moment, he was paralyzed. His chest tightened, his throat closing up, and his legs buckled beneath him as he stumbled toward her.
His mother's face was pale, her once warm skin now cold and lifeless. Her eyes were closed, her hands resting at her sides, and Kael felt a tear slip down his cheek before he could stop it. He hadn't been there when it had happened. He hadn't been able to protect her. The rage that built inside him was suffocating, but he kept it down, his fist clenching at his side.
He couldn't let his siblings see her like this.
Kael took a deep breath, wiping his eyes quickly before rising to his feet. His voice was strained, thick with emotion as he called out to his siblings. "Go to Lyra's house. Stay there."
They didn't ask questions. They didn't need to. Kael knew they had already seen enough.
Once they were gone, Kael moved to his mother's side. He could barely bring himself to touch her cold body, but he did it anyway, gently brushing her hair from her face as he whispered, "I'll avenge you."
The words felt hollow, empty, but they were all he had. He carefully laid her down and began to dig her grave behind their house, the earth cold beneath his hands. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon as he finished, his muscles aching from the labor, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except this moment.
Kael knelt beside the grave, his hands trembling as he placed the sword his father had left behind in the dirt next to her grave. Tears streamed down his face as he whispered his final goodbyes, his voice thick with emotion.
Then, he stood, wiping his eyes with a shaking hand. The grief still weighed heavily on him, but there was no time to dwell. He had to keep moving. His family needed him. The sword his father had left behind was a symbol of the past, but Kael couldn't stay in the past. He had to move forward, for his siblings, for his mother.
---
Meanwhile, at Lyra's house...
Lyra and Dren arrived at Lyra's house, their faces solemn, knowing the gravity of the situation. They knew Kael would need time, but they also knew they had to check in on him. They walked quietly through the village, the emptiness hanging around them like a cold shroud.
When they reached Kael's house, they froze.
Kael was standing in front of the grave, his face a mixture of pain and anger. His features were hard, his eyes fierce, and his fists were clenched at his sides. The sight of him, the way he stood there as though he were daring the world to come at him, was a jarring contrast to the quiet grief that had surrounded him only hours before.
Lyra's eyes darted to the grave, and it didn't take much to realize whose grave it was. Her heart sank as she understood—this was the final resting place of Kael's mother.
Without a word, she and Dren stepped forward, approaching Kael with hesitant steps. The weight of the moment was heavy, and neither knew what to say. They were family now, bound by more than just blood. But the pain in Kael's eyes, the fire burning there, was not something they could fix with words.
As they stood beside him, Kael didn't speak at first. He just stared at the grave, his jaw clenched, his eyes unblinking.
Then, slowly, his siblings knelt beside him, and the weight of their shared grief hit them all at once. Kael's younger siblings broke down, their faces crumpling as they sobbed, unable to hold it back anymore. Kael reached out, pulling them into a tight embrace, but his own tears fell freely as well.
For a long moment, none of them spoke. They just sat there, together, mourning the loss of their mother, of their home, of everything they had lost.
---
Kael finally stood, wiping his tears and turning away from the grave. "We need to move on," he whispered, barely audible.
Lyra and Dren nodded, understanding what he meant. The world hadn't stopped. It wouldn't stop. And neither could they.
After a long silence, Kael finally turned back to his childhood home. He entered the house, retrieving the sword his father had left behind, along with whatever supplies he could carry. This was the only part of their past they could still hold onto.
With his father's sword in hand, Kael set his jaw and walked out of the house, determined to carry on, whatever that might mean.