The town of Eldermist where Morgana and Eryndor had ran away lay 17 kilometres from the edge of the neighbouring city where they are presently. Its narrow, cobblestone streets bustled with life, but a heavy tension had settled over the community ever since whispers of magic reached the ears of the leaders. The town dwellers were deeply superstitious, their fear of sorcery rooted in old tales of destruction and calamity dating as far back as thousand of years ago. The thought of a boy wielding uncontrollable magic sent shivers down their spines.
In the darkened council hall, the elders gathered. Their faces, shadowed by flickering lamplight, bore grim expressions.
"We cannot allow this boy and his caretaker to roam freely if we want to have peace," one elder declared, his voice trembling with anger. "Magic is a plague, a blight upon the land. If we do not act, his power will destroy us all."
The others murmured in agreement. "We must act swiftly," said another. "Send the hunters after them. Bring them back alive, if possible. If not, their bodies will suffice."
By sunrise, a group of hunters—hard men, armed with bows, swords, horses and years of experience—set out into the road, their goal clear.
Eryndor and Morgana were unaware of the danger drawing closer. The two trudged along a narrow dirt path, the morning air heavy with the scent of damp earth. Eryndor's heart remained burdened by the memory of the bandits. Though he had saved Morgana, he could not forget the raw, terrifying power that had erupted from within him.
"Morgana," he said hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do you think I'm… a monster?" as they walked down the road.
The caretaker stopped, turning to face him. Her eyes softened as she knelt to his level. "You are not a monster, Eryndor. You're a boy—a boy with a gift you don't yet understand. What happened back there… it was terrifying, yes. But you saved me. Never forget that."
Eryndor nodded, but doubt lingered in his heart. Before Morgana could say more, a rustling in the underbrush snapped her attention to the forest around them. Her instincts flared, and she stepped protectively in front of Eryndor.
"What is it?" Eryndor asked, his voice trembling.
Morgana didn't answer. The rustling grew louder until, with a sudden burst, the hunters emerged from the trees, their weapons drawn.
"There they are!" one of them shouted.
"Run, Eryndor!" Morgana screamed, grabbing his hand and pulling him down the path.
But the hunters were prepared. They cut off their escape, surrounding them with practiced precision.
"Stay back!" Morgana yelled, placing herself between the hunters and the boy.
"Hand over the boy," one of the hunters said coldly. "We've no quarrel with you, woman. But the boy is a danger to us all."
Morgana squared her shoulders. "He's just a child! Leave him be!"
The hunter's eyes narrowed. "We know what he is. Step aside, or we'll take him by force."
Eryndor clung to Morgana's skirts, fear paralyzing him. He could feel the magic stirring within him, begging to be unleashed, but he fought it back. He couldn't risk losing control again—not after what happened with the bandits.
The hunters advanced. Morgana fought valiantly, but she was no match for their numbers. In moments, she and Eryndor were overpowered and bound with rough ropes.
"Let me go!" Eryndor cried, struggling against his captors.
But his pleas fell on deaf ears. The hunters dragged them back to Eldermist, their triumphant return met with cheers from the frightened villagers.
Word of their capture spread quickly, and by nightfall, the village square was crowded with angry townsfolk. Eryndor and Morgana stood before the makeshift tribunal, their hands bound and their faces pale with fear.
Kael Darkfire had been brought to the city under guard, his presence intended to underscore the severity of his son's supposed crimes. He stood next to them, his face a mask of stoic defiance.
The head elder stepped forward, his voice booming over the murmurs of the crowd. "This boy," he declared, pointing a gnarled finger at Eryndor, "is an abomination. His magic is a curse upon our land, a threat to our very existence. And those who harbour him are no less guilty!"
The crowd roared its agreement.
Kael stepped forward, his voice steady despite the rage building within him. "You call my son an abomination, yet you've seen no proof of his so-called crimes. He's just a child!"
"Enough, Kael!" the elder snapped. "The eyewitness accounts are proof enough. Your son used magic to harm others. He is a danger, and we will not tolerate his presence any longer."
The elder turned to the crowd. "The punishment is clear. For the crime of practicing forbidden sorcery, the boy and his protectors will be executed at dawn!"
The crowd erupted in cheers, but their jubilation was short-lived.
Eryndor, trembling with fear and anger, felt the magic within him rise uncontrollably. His vision blurred, and a deep, guttural roar escaped his lips as the bindings on his wrists snapped.
"No!" he screamed, his voice echoing unnaturally.
A violent force exploded from his small frame, sending waves of energy rippling through the square. The ground cracked beneath his feet, and a fierce wind whipped through the crowd. Stones, dirt, and debris swirled in a chaotic maelstrom, striking those who had jeered at him moments before.
People screamed in terror, fleeing in every direction. The hunters who had captured him were thrown to the ground, their weapons shattered.
Morgana and Kael stared in shock as Eryndor's eyes glowed with an ethereal light. His voice was no longer his own, a deep resonance that seemed to come from the very earth. "Leave us alone!"
The remaining villagers scattered, their fear overwhelming them.
As the chaos subsided, Eryndor collapsed to his knees, exhausted and horrified by what he had done. Morgana rushed to his side, cradling him in her arms.
"It's okay, Eryndor," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You're safe now."
But before anyone could react further, a blinding light enveloped Eryndor. Morgana screamed as he was lifted into the air, his body shimmering with magical energy.
"Eryndor!" Kael shouted, reaching for his son, but it was too late.
In an instant, the light vanished, and with it, Eryndor was gone.
Eryndor awoke in a strange, unfamiliar land. The air was warm, the sky a deep shade of purple, and the ground beneath him felt soft and spongy. He sat up, his heart pounding as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.
"Where am I?" he whispered.
The landscape stretched endlessly in all directions, filled with glowing plants and strange, ethereal creatures that moved like shadows. He was alone, far from his father and Morgana, far from the city he had called home.