The sun hovered low in the sky, casting a warm golden light over the land. Morgana was weeding the compound, dressed in her colourful maiden gown and garden shoe. She had her hoe on her right hand, to remove the stubborn plants that threatened to overrun the grounds. Her hands were donned in a glove to prevent her palm from getting calloused from the tedious work, yet her movements were swift and sure.
Eryndor, was 12-year-old as at this time with an air of intelligence. He emerged from the house just as Morgana was nearing the end of her work. His beautiful blue eyes and silver hair which often made him look too wise for someone so young, sparkled with curiosity as he watched her pull the last few weeds.
"Lady Morgana," he called out, his voice carrying the youthful innocence of someone still untouched by the harshness of the world.
Morgana straightened up and wiped her brow, smiling at him. "Eryn, go back inside. You shouldn't be out here. The sun's too harsh today."
"But I want to help," he replied earnestly, stepping closer.
She shook her head, a gentle but firm gesture. "No, no. If you want to help, fetch me some water to drink then. My throat's dry as bone."
Eryndor hesitated but nodded obediently. He turned and ran back toward the house, his mind already racing with thoughts of how he could convince Morgana to let him help her outside next time.
As he reached the kitchen, he grabbed a wooden cup and filled it with cool water from the clay jug. Just as he was about to head back, a noise caught his attention—a loud, unfamiliar sound that didn't belong to Morgana. It was the sound of harsh voices, guttural and menacing.
His heart quickened. Carrying the cup of water outside, he crept toward the door and peeked outside. What he saw made his blood run cold.
Morgana was no longer alone. Five men, dressed in ragged clothing and armed with crude weapons, had surrounded her. Their faces were twisted with malice, and their intentions were clear.
"Where's the boy?" one of them growled, his voice rough as gravel. "We just want the boy. Tell us, and we'll let you go unharmed."
Morgana, despite her trembling hands, stood her ground, looking at the door and praying the boy does not come outside. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, her voice steady even as fear shone in her eyes.
"Don't play dumb with us," another man snapped, stepping closer. He held a wooden club with stone spikes in his hand "We're here for Eryndor Darkfire. Where is he?"
Morgana's lips tightened into a firm line. "The boy is not here, He left home with his father"
The leader's face darkened with anger. "This is not the type of answer we are here to get. We know you are in charge of his care, so fetch him out."
But Morgana feet was affixed to the ground and not moving.
The leader made a nod with his head, and two men moved. One was moving inside the house to find Eryndor, and the other used his boot to kick Morgana from the back, making her fall to the ground.
Eryndor watched in horror as one of the men walked towards the door where he was and the others beat Morgana. She cried out in pain as their fists and boots struck her, but she refused to yield.
"Where is the boy?" one of them snarled, grabbing her by the hair.
She spat at him, blood staining her lips. "You dirty pigs."
The leader's face twisted with rage. He yanked at her gown, tearing the fabric as he sneered. "Maybe we should teach you some respect first."
"Eryndor, run! Hide! And don't come out". Morgana screamed as a last resort to save the boy before they find him.
Eryndor's heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of fear and fury rising within him. He wanted to scream, to run for help, but something deeper stirred inside—a raw, primal power he didn't fully understand.
Without thinking, he stepped outside, his small frame trembling with both fear and determination. He raised his hands instinctively, and the world seemed to respond.
The man who was sent to find him grinned at first, then his expression switched to dread.
The ground trembled beneath the bandits' feet as stones and rocks lifted into the air swirling around Eryndor as if caught in an invisible storm. Twigs rose from the soil and curled around the bandits feet, holding them to the ground restricting them from moving or even running. Water from the compound well surged upward, twisting into a menacing shape.
"What the hell is this?" one of the bandits shouted, his voice filled with panic.
Eryndor's eyes glowed with an otherworldly blue light as he spoke, his voice ringing with power. "Leave us alone."
The bandits hesitated, their bravado faltering in the face of the boy's sudden transformation. But before they could react, Eryndor unleashed his magic.
The stones moved towards the men, with astonishing speed striking them with bone-crushing force. One man screamed as a jagged rock smashed into his nose, shattering nasal bone. Another fell to his knees as a thick twig pulled him into the ground.
The water lashed out like a living whip, knocking weapons from their hands and sending them sprawling. Twigs and roots coiled around the body of 4 of them, dragging them to the ground as if the earth itself sought to punish them.
The bandits screamed and cursed, their ferocity shattered as the boy's magic tore through them. Bloodied and battered, they scrambled to their feet and fled, their cries of pain and terror echoing through the garden.
Eryndor stood motionless, his chest heaving as the last remnants of his power faded. The compound was silent once more, save for Morgana's ragged breaths.
The boy ran to her side, his earlier fury replaced by concern. "Lady Morgana! Are you okay?"
She looked up at him, her face bruised but her eyes filled with relief.
He reached out to help her up, but she grabbed his wrist instead, her grip surprisingly strong. "We need to get inside. Now."
Without waiting for his response, she pulled him toward the house. They stumbled through the door and bolted it shut, the weight of what had just happened sinking in.
Before they could fully digest what had just happened, the sound of hooves on gravel reached their ears. Moments later, the front door opened, and Kael strode in, his presence depicted that he had no hint of what had happened.
"Eryndor! Morgana! What happened?" Kael blurted, stunned by the dirt and ragged breathing of his maiden.
Eryndor ran to his father, the events of the past few minutes spilled out from his mouth in a rush of words. Kael's expression darkened as he listened, his jaw tightening with anger.
Kael turned to Morgana, his voice softening. "Are you all right?"
She nodded weakly, though tears glistened in her eyes. "Thanks to Eryndor. He… he saved my life."
Kael's gaze shifted to his son, pride and worry mingling in his eyes. "Your power is awakening sooner than I expected. We'll talk more about this later, but for now, we must prepare to leave by dusk. And let's hope no one saw you during the fight"