1205-09-25
AAAAHHHHHH!
"Are we under attack? By who?"
I leap out of my bed just as a man bursts into my tent, his eyes glowing red with terror. Another older man follows, his breaths ragged, his face pale.
"Kaeo!" the older man shouts, struggling to catch his breath.
"What is it? What's happening?" I demand, stumbling toward him.
"An attack!" he yells.
"By who?"
Before he can answer, chaos outside steals my attention. The streets are awash in blood, people running frantically from an unseen enemy. My heart pounds as I grab the man by the shoulders. "By who?!"
He points to the sky, his entire body trembling.
I follow his gaze. A massive silver dragon cuts through the clouds, its scales glinting like liquid metal. It circles the city with eerie precision, its breath a whirlwind of condensed wind that rips through the streets like a tornado. Debris flies in all directions, and the air is filled with screams.
People try to fight back—warriors hurl spears and arrows at the beast, but the dragon's wind breath swats them aside like leaves. Men and women are thrown through the air, their bodies hitting the ground with sickening thuds.
I step outside, my feet crunching on shattered stone. Blood stains the ground as bodies—parents, children, warriors—lie torn apart. The dragon arcs gracefully through the sky, a sinister grin curling across its face. It seems to savor the destruction, twisting back for another attack.
"Run! Head for Momba!" I shout at the man, shaking him. "Gather any survivors you can!"
He nods and bolts into the chaos, shouting for others to follow him. Meanwhile, the dragon continues its rampage, seemingly unaware of our escape efforts.
I run back to what's left of my tent, grabbing a silver spear, a bow, and some arrows. The dragon finishes its rampage, its blazing eyes locking onto the man in the distance as it swoops down toward him.
I don't hesitate. I knock an arrow and shoot. The beast roars as my arrow pierces its wing, sending it crashing to the ground.
From afar, I see the man and the others fleeing to safety. Relief flickers for a moment—but it's short-lived.
The dragon picks itself up, its massive form towering over the wreckage. It doesn't roar this time. Instead, it lets out a blood-curdling laugh, deep and guttural, as though amused by my defiance.
I grip the spear tighter, planting my feet. My heart pounds, but I push the fear away. I can't afford to be scared. Not now.
"I'm sorry, Father," I think, steeling myself as the dragon strides closer and closer. Its steps shake the ground beneath me, but I stand firm.
"Loret," I whisper.
Lore's Perspective:
Whoosh!
The punch hit me with ferocious force, launching me backward. Pain flared for only a moment before adrenaline took over.
"Come on, Loret," Krain mocked, his voice dripping with derision. "Is that all you've got?"
"I'm just getting started!"
I spun my wooden spear in my hand.
Krain's small, sinister smile only widened as he prepared to strike again. He lunged at me, his speed unnerving, but I was faster. Dodging his wild swings, I kept him at bay with the spear, creating space between us. When he got too close, he shot a punch at me—a punch as fast as the wind. I barely managed to block it with the shaft of my spear.
With a quick step, I closed the distance, driving forward. Using the spear as a javelin, I hurled it with all my might. The force sent Krain stumbling backward, his eyes flashing with anger. He reached for his own broken spear, but it lay just out of reach.
Seizing the opportunity, Krain drew a small bow from his side, nocking wooden arrows in quick succession. He released them with deadly precision, one after another. I dodged each one, the last arrow snapping as I deflected it with my own spear.
I reached for my bow, determined to counter, but before I could fire, Krain was suddenly in front of me—like he'd sprouted wings. His kick hit me square in the chest, sending me crashing to the ground.
Wham. Wham. Wham.
"Get off!" Zahra's voice cut through the haze of pain. She shoved Krain away, red blood dripping from my face as I struggled to focus.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice trembling as she dabbed my face with a cloth.
"I'm fine," I muttered, forcing myself upright.
"Good round, Krain," I called out, gritting my teeth as I looked at him. He simply smiled—a sinister curve to his lips—and walked away without a word.
Zahra wrapped bandages around my face, her hands surprisingly gentle. She leaned in, kissing the edge of the bandage. "Recover soon," she whispered, her words soft enough to make my cheeks flush.
Before I could respond, the sharp sound of footsteps echoed, drawing everyone's attention. A man approached, clad in the unmistakable garb of a general.
"My Prince," he said, saluting Krain. "Your father needs you."
"Is it urgent?" Krain asked, his tone more annoyed than concerned.
"Yes, my Prince," the general replied firmly.
Krain shot me a quick look before we followed the general through the streets of New Momba. Time seemed to slow as Zahra grabbed my arm, her reassuring touch sending a small, comforting smile to my lips.
At the city gate, a crowd of warriors stood assembled. At the front of them was King Mombasa—Krain's father.
I tried to push past the soldiers to get closer, but they remained steadfast, their unmoving presence like a wall. Krain coughed, a small sound that caught their attention. The soldiers parted at once, letting us pass.
In front of us stood a group of about twenty-five people. They looked battered and exhausted. Leading them was a man with piercing red eyes—eyes I recognized immediately.
"Tafari?" I asked, my heart pounding as I took a step forward.
"Loret," he gasped, collapsing to his knees. His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "We were attacked… by a dragon."
"What?" My stomach twisted. "What happened?"
"We need Mombasa's help," Tafari said, his voice trembling. "Your brother… he…" Tafari's words faltered, and I felt a knot form in my throat.
"We need to go!" I turned to run, my thoughts racing. But before I could take another step, Mombasa's voice cut through the chaos.
"NO."
His tone was cold and unyielding. His soldiers stepped forward, their silver spears glinting as they pointed them at the Zandu refugees.
"Why?" I turned to him, desperation swelling in my chest. "They need us! Kaeo needs me!"
My voice cracked, but Mombasa didn't flinch. His expression remained icy, a sly smile creeping onto his face.
Zahra pushed her way to the front of the group.
"You'd really abandon them?" Zahra demanded, her voice shaking with anger. "After everything?"
"As they say, let the past die."
My breath catches. "The past? But Kaeo will—"
"Whether Kaeo dies is none of our business," Mombasa cuts me off, his voice cold and firm. "Why would I risk my soldiers for a single life?"
"How dare you say that about our king!" Tafari yells, charging toward Mombasa.
"No!" I gasp, reaching out to stop him.
One of Mombasa's soldiers steps in, blade flashing. Blood splattering across Zahra's stunned face.
"I promise Zandu will become what it once was."
Mombasa chuckled, the sound low and mocking. "Promises are easy, Loret. Lets see if you survive the night"
Mombasa and the soldiers turn back toward the city.
The air felt suffocating.
I looked at Zahra. At Krain.
We ran. My people, my family, the last connection I had to my father and brother—what remained of them. We ran and ran, the ground beneath us trembling with the weight of our steps, fear pounding in my chest. I pushed ahead, desperate, praying that my brother might still be alive.
New Momba has always been a place of solace for me. My friends lived here, and though the semantics divided us, we were one tribe in spirit, bound together under the name of Two. But Ghar—it was never a land of unity. Ghar is a place of lawlessness and betrayal, where promises crumbled like sand.
When I reached the city, my heart sank. It was a graveyard. Dust hung heavy in the air.
Then, in the center of the chaos, my eyes caught on a single figure. My breath hitched. A corpse. His curly hair, once so full of life, now matted with blood and ash. His face and body were covered in deep scratches. His black eyes, wide open, bloodshot from strain, staring blankly at the sky. His ceremonial spear, snapped in two, lay at his side.
And the taji—a taji I knew too well—now soaked in blood.
I fell to my knees. The weight of the world crushed me, the sound of my own cries filling the empty streets.
Kaeo was gone.