(Arun's Pov)
The night felt like it was dragging on forever. Darkness wrapped around the ruins of the village, thick and heavy, almost like the stars had turned their backs on this shattered little world. The fires that had once raged now flickered weakly, barely holding on, fading into piles of smoldering embers. Smoke hung in the air—a sharp, bitter reminder of the chaos that had ripped through everything.
I was sitting on the broken steps of a house that didn't even stand anymore, its roof caved in like the heart of the village itself. My eyes were locked on the horizon, my face dimly lit by pale moonlight. I hadn't moved in hours, my body frozen in place, as still as death. Inside, my mind was a mess, a storm of emotions—grief, anger, guilt—but on the outside, I was just a hollow shell. It felt like my soul had left me, gone with the people we'd lost.
Their faces wouldn't leave me alone: Myrin, Zaleria, the villagers who fought like hell to protect their homes. They'd all put their trust in me, looked to me as their captain, and I let them down. But the ones that hit me hardest were Seira and Kailu. My friends' kids. I made a promise to them. And now they were gone, taken away right in front of me while I just stood there, helpless to stop it. The memory of that moment was like a blade twisting in my chest.
But there wasn't any time to fall apart. I had to stay strong—at least, on the outside. People needed me to keep it together, to be someone they could rely on in this nightmare. But inside? Inside, I was barely holding it together.
"Arun!" A voice broke through the silence like a crack of thunder.
I turned my head slowly, like I was waking up from some dream. Alwin was running toward me, breathing hard, his armor streaked with blood and soot. His face was pale, his eyes wide with fear and exhaustion.
"Arun," Alwin wheezed, leaning over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "We… we need you. We need you to take command. The injured… come now!"
His words cut through the fog in my head. Slowly, I got to my feet, every movement weighed down like I was carrying the whole world.
I didn't say anything at first. My eyes swept over what was left of the village. The lively, laughing place it had been was gone, replaced by a burned-out graveyard. Bodies were scattered across the rubble, some half-buried. Fires had taken everything, leaving only death behind.
Alwin stood there, waiting, his expression tense. Finally, I spoke, my voice flat and empty. "I'm coming."
I followed him through the wreckage, my feet dragging like they were made of lead. My thoughts were slow and thick, tangled up in everything I'd done wrong. I should've seen this coming. I should've been better, smarter, stronger. I should've stopped it before it happened. But I didn't—and now everyone was paying for it.
In the center of the village, just outside the church that somehow still stood, the survivors had gathered. The place was chaotic. Injured people lay on the ground, groaning in pain, while a few exhausted doctors rushed between them, their faces grim. The air was thick with the smell of blood and smoke, a mix that made my stomach churn.
Kiirion, the village's head doctor, looked up when we arrived. His face, usually calm and unshaken, was drawn tight with worry. "Arun," he said, his voice low and strained. "We're out of supplies. The bandages, the herbs—we've used almost all of it. The healers are done; they're out of magic. And there are too many wounded. We're losing them."
I barely heard what he said. My eyes were already locked on someone lying among the wounded—Saphielle, my wife, my second-in-command. She was stretched out on a makeshift bed, her armor dented and scuffed, her face pale, streaked with blood. Seeing her like that—so vulnerable, so still—hit me like a punch to the gut. I rushed to her side, dropping to my knees.
"Saphielle," I whispered, my voice cracking.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she managed a weak smile, the corners of her lips twitching up. "Took you long enough," she rasped, her voice raw and strained. "What happened? Did you decide to sleep through the whole thing?"
Even with the ache in my chest, I forced out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, sure. That's what I did."
She coughed, the motion making her flinch in pain. "How bad is it?"
I hesitated, glancing around the camp. "It's bad," I admitted, my voice low. "The council's gone, and most of the brigade… it's just us now. We're all that's left."
Her expression darkened, the faint trace of her smile fading. "Typical," she muttered. "Those cowards always run when things get ugly."
I reached for her hand, wrapping it in mine and squeezing it tight. A long sigh escaped me, heavy with the weight of everything. "I let them down, Saphielle," I said quietly. "When they needed me the most, I failed them."
My throat tightened, my mind haunted by the memory I couldn't escape. Seira and Kailu—the kids I promised to protect. I could still see Seira's wide, terrified eyes as they dragged her away, and Kailu limp, unconscious in some bandit's arms. I couldn't stop it. I couldn't do anything. "Seira and Kailu…" I added, my voice breaking as I met her gaze.
"I'll get them back," I said, barely above a whisper, the words more a vow to myself than anything else. "I swear it."
Saphielle's eyes softened as she looked at me, her gaze full of understanding. She knew me better than anyone, knew the weight of every decision, every failure I carried. "Arun," she said softly, her voice barely holding together, "you can't save everyone. Don't carry all of this by yourself."
But that was the problem—I couldn't let it go. This weight, this burden, it was mine to bear. I'd failed as a leader, as their protector, as the person they counted on. Now, the only thing I could focus on was making it right. The crushing weight of my failure wrapped around me, suffocating me, as I turned my gaze back to the village—what was left of it. My mind was stuck on Seira.
"They must be so scared, so confused," I murmured. "I will find them. I swear I will."
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Somewhere far away, in the dark and cold, Seira felt the emptiness envelop her.
(Seira's Pov)
I don't know how long we've been traveling. It feels like forever, but I'm not sure if it's been days or weeks. Everything's all mixed up in my head. The world outside is a blur, and my heart feels so empty. I know I should be scared—I know I should—but I feel nothing. No tears come, no words come, just... nothing.
I've never been this far from home before. Home. Mama. Papa. Big Brother. Big sister. A soft ache throbs in my chest as I think of them. But I don't let it out. It just sits there, like a stone, heavy and quiet.
I can still see Mama's face in my mind—her eyes, so wide and desperate when she stood in front of me, trying to protect me. The way her voice broke when she cried out to the bad man. Papa's voice, too. His last words echo in my ears, over and over, like a bell ringing that never stops. And Brother and sister… they weren't there, not at the house. Mama said they were "gone." Did she mean they're dead? Or did they get away?
I wish I knew. I wish... I could ask them.
The men stopped the horses a while ago. They threw us off the horses, tossing us like bags. They're all over there now, talking, but I can't hear what they're saying. Their voices are like buzzing flies, too far away to understand. I see a big carriage behind them, though. Are we going to get inside that now? It looks so big… Is that where they're taking us next?
There are eight of us, I think—children, just like me. Kailu's here, too, but he's still not awake. He hasn't opened his eyes since... since back at the village. What will he do when he wakes up? Will he scream? Will he cry? Will he look as empty as I feel?
The other kids are crying. They won't stop crying. Their sobs are loud, and it's making my head hurt. Should I cry, too? Should I be crying right now? I want to cry, but nothing comes. I can't even talk. I open my mouth, but no words come out. It's like my voice is trapped somewhere deep inside me, hiding from everything that's happening.
Why can't I talk? Why am I not crying like the others?
My hands itch. The ropes around my wrists are tight, and they rub against my skin. It hurts, but I don't complain. It's just a small hurt. Not like the big hurt inside.
I watch the men coming back toward us. Four of them, and two of them are from my house—the ones who hurt Mama and Papa. I remember their faces. They're etched in my mind, like ugly shadows that won't go away.
They pick us up, two kids under each arm, like we're nothing. I can't fight back. I just hang there, limp like a rag doll. They throw us into the big carriage, one by one, like we're toys they don't care about. The wood creaks when I land, and the door slams shut behind us. It's dark inside. Cold. No one is crying now. Not anymore. The crying stopped as soon as the door closed.
It's quiet. So quiet. I can hear my own breathing, but it doesn't feel like mine. The other kids are sitting with their knees to their chests, eyes wide with fear. Kailu's lying next to me, still as a rock. His face is pale, I wonder if he's breathing at all. Maybe he's gone, too.
Gone, like Mama. Like Papa.
The carriage starts moving again, the wheels bumping along the road. The sound of it clatters in my ears, but my mind is somewhere far away. All I can do is sit here, waiting. Waiting for something, but I don't know what.
Are we going to die? Is that what's going to happen?
I don't want to think about it. I can't.
I don't know how long we've been in here now. Hours? Days? Time feels strange now. Like it doesn't matter anymore. My stomach growls, but I ignore it. The others don't talk. They just sit, staring blankly ahead. I feel like I should be scared, but that emptiness is still there, swallowing everything.
Eventually, we stop again. I'm too tired to look, but I hear voices. Men talking outside. I force myself to crawl over to a small hole in the wood, pressing my face against it. Through the tiny crack, I see one of the scary men talking to a guard. A big gate stands behind them. Is it a city? I think it is. The man hands the guard some coins, and they talk like they're friends or something.
"We're heading to the capital of Aneara Empire," I hear the man say. "We just want to transport some goods through the city."
Goods. That's what we are to them. Not people. Just things. Like bags of flour or sacks of grain.
I try to scream. "Help!" But my voice—my voice—it won't work. It comes out as a tiny whisper, broken and weak. I press my hands to my throat, trying to force the words out, but it's useless. The guard doesn't even look. "Hmm I see, that's quite a long way though. But alright" he said and just waves the man through, like it's nothing.
The carriage moves again, and my heart sinks. No one's coming to save us. No one even knows we're here. The last little bit of hope I had… it's gone now. Just like everything else.
I slump back down onto the floor, staring at nothing. My hands are shaking, and I don't know why. My throat feels tight, like something's stuck in it. I try to swallow, but the feeling won't go away. My stomach twists, and I feel sick. Really sick. I try to hold it in, but I can't. It just spills out onto the floor, a mess of everything I've been holding inside. I vomit, again and again, until there's nothing left.
When it's over, I sit back, dizzy and hollow. The world tilts around me, but I can't think about it. I can't think about anything.
I don't know how much time has passed now. A few more days? Weeks? I can't tell anymore. It's all the same—endless, silent darkness. But then, something changes. Kailu moves.
He stirs next to me, blinking slowly like he's waking from a long dream. His eyes are red and swollen, and his face is streaked with dirt. He doesn't scream. He doesn't cry. He just sits there, staring at the floor like it's the only thing in the world.
"Kailu?" I try to say his name, but my voice is still gone, my mouth feels so heavy that it's difficult to even open it. Only a small breath escapes my lips, barely louder than a sigh.
He wipes his face, trying to get rid of the tears, but they keep coming. He turns to me, his eyes wide and scared. "Seira, are you okay?" His voice is soft, like he's afraid of waking something up.
I don't answer. I can't. The words I want to say—they won't come. I just stare at him, my face blank, empty. I want to say, "I'm scared," but nothing comes out.
Kailu looks at me, waiting, but I don't respond. His hands tremble as he wipes his tears away again. "Seira, I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" His voice breaks.
But I don't. I can't. My eyes are too heavy, my heart too numb. I turn my head, staring at the wall of the carriage, and Kailu's sobs grow quieter. "Please... Seira, look at me," he says again in desperation. "I'm scared too... please, just look at me." he keeps going, trying to get my attention, but there is still nothing that comes out of me.
For a long time, we sit in silence, both of us trapped in our own thoughts, too broken to speak.
I don't know what will happen next. All I know is that we're going somewhere far away, and there's no way back.
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Back at the village, just a few hours after the invasion.
(Arun's Pov)
I stood in the middle of what used to be my home, surrounded by the wreckage of everything I'd ever known. The sun was creeping up, its light hesitant, pale, like it didn't really want to see what had happened here. The ruins stretched out in front of me, a cold reminder of everything we'd lost. Behind me, the survivors were gathered—some slumped over, too tired to stand, others frozen with fear, all of them waiting for me to figure out what came next.
"We can't stay here," Alwin's voice cut through the silence. It wasn't a suggestion—it was a fact, plain and simple. "If we wait, we're sitting ducks. The bandits will come back."
I nodded, his words sinking in like a blade. He was right. Staying here wasn't an option. The village was gone, torn apart. But leaving? Leaving felt like walking away from everything we'd fought for, everything we tried to protect. It felt like giving up.
But deep down, I already knew. We didn't have a choice.
"We head south," I said, my voice steady, even though my chest was tight. "The royal capital—Shilon. They're more tolerant of elves there. It's the only place we might have a shot at being safe."
Alwin hesitated, his tone softer now, almost afraid. "And the children?"
"I'm going after them," I answered without even thinking, my voice firm, unshakable. I couldn't leave them behind. I wouldn't.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Saphielle shift. Even with everything she'd been through, she pushed herself up, her face pale, her body weak, but her eyes sharp and determined. "Arun," she said, her voice laced with worry, "you can't do this alone."
I felt the weight of her words. I knew she was right, but this was something I couldn't back down from. This wasn't just about responsibility—it was about redemption. "I have to try," I said, meeting her gaze. My voice softened, but the resolve was there, clear as day. "I failed them. I can't just leave it like this. I need to make it right."
She didn't say anything, just held my gaze. I could feel everything she wasn't saying, all her concern, all her doubt. But I knew she understood, even if she didn't agree.
Then, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Turning, I saw Kiirion standing beside me. His face was heavy with grief, his eyes hollow from all we'd been through. But there was something else there too—a flicker of determination.
"We'll go with you," Kiirion said, his voice steady but full of emotion. "Myrin saved my son's life all those years ago. I owe him more than I can ever repay. It's only right I help you bring his daughter home. I'm no soldier, but I'll do what I can. You don't have to do this alone."
I looked at him, then at the faces of the others. These were the people who had fought beside me, who had lost as much as I had. Their eyes were red, their bodies battered, but there was something alive in them—a quiet fire, a resolve that refused to die.
For the first time since this nightmare started, I felt something stir in me. It was small, faint, but it was there—a spark of hope.
"We leave as soon as we finish packing," I said, my voice louder, stronger, carrying the weight of everything that needed to be done. "We'll find them. We'll bring them home."
I saw the nods, the set jaws, the quiet determination in their eyes. They weren't just following orders—they were with me. All of us had lost so much, but standing there, I realized we still had something left.
And for the first time in a long while, I felt like maybe, just maybe, we still had a chance to make this right.