Scene 1: Struggling in Silence
The forest felt endless, its towering trees looming like silent sentinels under the gray sky. Anther sat on the cold ground, his back pressed against the rough bark of an ancient oak. The air was heavy with dampness, the distant calls of birds the only sounds breaking the oppressive quiet.
Days had passed since the raid. Since everything fell apart.
Anther clenched his fists, staring at the pale form of Lily, lying curled on a patch of moss nearby. Her breathing was shallow, her small frame trembling despite the blanket he had wrapped around her. The hollow ache in his chest grew sharper with every glance at her.
"Why did he do this?" Anther muttered, his voice barely louder than a whisper. His jaw tightened as the familiar surge of anger flared in his chest. "Why, Elliotte?"
The image of his friend's face rose in his mind—smiling, laughing, full of life. But now, all Anther could see was betrayal. The thought clawed at him, filling his stomach with bitterness.
"If it weren't for him… we'd still be safe," he growled, his voice cracking. His fingers dug into the dirt, his nails scraping against the cold earth.
Lily stirred weakly, her frail body shifting on the forest floor. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes dulled by exhaustion and hunger.
"Anther…" she croaked, her voice barely audible.
He was at her side in an instant, brushing the damp hair from her face. "I'm here," he said, forcing a smile he didn't feel. "I'm right here, Lily."
She blinked slowly, her lips parting as if to say something, but the words never came. Her head lolled to the side, and her breathing grew fainter.
Anther swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. "Just hang on, alright? I'll find food. I promise."
Lily's lips twitched in the faintest of nods before her eyes closed again.
Anther stood, his movements sharp and restless. He grabbed the wooden ring around his finger, his grip tightening as he stared at the strange, swirling carvings. "You'll be okay, Lily," he whispered, though his voice wavered. "You have to be."
He turned and began walking, his steps quickening as he moved deeper into the forest.
Scene 2: A Kingdom's Guilt
The palace halls stretched endlessly before Elliotte, cold and lifeless despite the morning light streaming through the arched windows. The sun painted streaks of gold across the marble floors, but to Elliotte, it only served as a cruel contrast to the weight pressing on his chest.
He trudged forward, his steps echoing faintly in the silence, his head bowed as though even standing upright was too much to bear.
Anther's voice haunted him—his laughter, his teasing, the way he used to nudge Elliotte playfully whenever they raced through the market square. But now, those memories felt like shards of glass, cutting deeper with every passing thought.
"It's my fault," Elliotte whispered, his voice breaking as he came to a halt near one of the tall windows. He stared out at the city below, the bustling streets and colorful rooftops of Fortis, the life of the kingdom moving on, oblivious to the weight of his guilt.
He raised his trembling hand, his eyes falling to the silver ring on his finger. Exilibur's faint glow caught the sunlight, its intricate runes almost mocking him. A symbol of power. A gift meant to protect the kingdom.
But what had he done with it? What had it cost?
"It's my fault they're gone…" Elliotte choked out, his hand clenching around the ring as tears welled in his eyes. "If I hadn't told him… if I hadn't trusted him…"
The words stuck in his throat, but the truth was undeniable. Anther's family was dead. Their home was ash. And Elliotte had handed them over, wrapped in his naive belief that his father would show mercy.
The memory of his father's voice, so cold and unfeeling, echoed in his mind: "Power belongs to those who can wield it wisely. Commoners are unfit for such responsibility."
Elliotte's stomach twisted. His father had spoken those words so easily, so firmly, as if the destruction of a family was just another duty to uphold the kingdom's order.
"Is this what it means to rule?" Elliotte muttered, his voice shaking. "To destroy people like they're nothing?"
His chest tightened, a sharp pain spreading from the weight of the realization. He had believed his father to be just, a man who protected the kingdom. But now, all he saw was a tyrant in armor, a man willing to crush anyone who defied him.
What pained Elliotte most wasn't the betrayal of his father. It was the betrayal of Anther—the friend who had trusted him, who had looked up to him. The boy who had smiled and joked and made him feel free, even when he was weighed down by the responsibilities of being a prince.
And now, Anther was gone.
Elliotte slumped against the cold stone wall, his shoulders trembling. "I'm sorry, Anther," he whispered, tears streaming silently down his cheeks. "I'm so, so sorry…"
The ring on his finger felt heavier than ever, its warmth now a cruel reminder of the power he carried—and the lives it had destroyed.
Scene 3: The Silent Rejection
The streets of Fortis were alive with movement, the hum of everyday life creating a cacophony of sound. Merchants shouted over one another, peddling their wares. The clatter of horseshoes echoed down cobblestone streets, mingling with the laughter of children darting through the alleyways. The smells of roasted meats, baked goods, and fresh fruit wafted through the air, tantalizing and cruel to those who couldn't afford a single bite.
Anther staggered through the streets, his head down, his thin frame hunched under the weight of exhaustion and hunger. His face was streaked with dirt, his dark eyes shadowed by sleepless nights. He avoided the gazes of the passersby, afraid that even a glance might betray his desperation.
His sister's face haunted him—her pale skin, her hollow cheeks, the faint rise and fall of her chest as she fought to hold on. Lily's frailty drove him forward, each step fueled by the image of her smile. I just need food. Anything. Something to keep her alive.
He approached the first stall, where a man was arranging fresh loaves of bread, their golden crusts gleaming in the sunlight.
"Please," Anther said, his voice hoarse. "I just need a little bread. My sister… she hasn't eaten in days."
The man turned, his face hardening as he took in Anther's disheveled appearance. "I'm not running a charity, boy," he said gruffly. "If you've got no Glints, you've got no business here."
Anther's chest tightened, but he nodded and moved on. At the next stall, he tried again.
"Excuse me," he said, his tone softer, almost pleading. "Do you have anything you can spare? I'll do anything—I can work, I can—"
The woman behind the counter frowned, her hands pausing over a crate of fruit. "I'm sorry, but I can't just give food away," she said, her voice tinged with pity. "I have my own family to feed."
Each rejection was like a stone dropped into his stomach, the weight of it pulling him further into despair. Door after door, stall after stall, he knocked, begged, pleaded. And each time, the answer was the same: averted eyes, murmured apologies, doors shut in his face.
He stopped in front of a bakery, the warm smell of pastries and bread wafting toward him. His stomach growled painfully, and he pressed a hand to it, willing the ache to subside. A little boy ran past him, holding a sweet bun in his hands, his laughter trailing behind him like a song.
Anther turned away, his chest hollow. No one cares. No one's going to help.
By the time he reached the end of the row, his legs felt like lead. His shoulders slumped as he sank onto the curb, his head dropping into his hands. The sound of the bustling market faded into the background, replaced by the deafening silence of his own failure.
I promised Lily I'd take care of her. What kind of brother am I if I can't even feed her?
Scene 4: A Stranger's Mercy
The faint shuffle of boots on cobblestones broke through Anther's haze. He didn't lift his head until a shadow fell over him, blocking the sunlight.
"You look like you've been through hell, son," said a voice, low and steady.
Anther blinked and looked up, his gaze meeting that of a tall man standing before him. The man's face was weathered, his beard streaked with gray, but his eyes were warm, filled with a kind of quiet understanding. He wore a simple leather vest over a linen shirt, his appearance plain yet dignified.
"I don't have food to give you," the man continued, kneeling down so they were at eye level. "But I can give you this."
The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch. He held it out to Anther, the faint jingle of coins audible as it dangled from his fingers.
Anther stared at it, his mind reeling. "I… I can't take that," he said, his voice shaking.
"Yes, you can," the man replied firmly, his hand remaining steady. "Your sister needs it more than I do. Take it, and don't waste time arguing."
Tears pricked at Anther's eyes as he reached out and took the pouch with trembling hands. He opened it, his breath hitching at the sight of the Glints inside—enough to buy bread, maybe even more.
"Thank you," he whispered, clutching the pouch to his chest. "I swear, I'll pay you back someday."
The man gave a faint smile, his expression gentle. "No need. Just take care of yourself and your sister."
Anther nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He stood, tucking the pouch into his pocket as he glanced back at the man one last time.
"I won't forget this," Anther said quietly, his voice filled with quiet determination.
The man watched him go, his gaze lingering as Anther disappeared into the crowd.
Scene 5: The Final Loss
The forest was alive with sound—the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant chirp of birds, and the soft crunch of Anther's boots against the dirt. He clutched the loaf of bread tightly to his chest, his heart pounding with a fragile hope that felt foreign after so many days of despair.
"Lily's going to smile," he whispered to himself, the words a small comfort as he pushed forward. "She's going to smile, and everything will be okay."
The thought carried him as he reached the edge of the clearing where he had left her. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled patterns across the ground.
But something felt wrong.
The clearing was still—too still.
"Lily?" Anther called, his voice breaking the eerie silence. He quickened his pace, his breaths coming faster. "Lily, I'm back!"
He stumbled into the clearing, and the sight before him made his heart stop.
She was lying exactly where he had left her, her small body curled beneath the thin blanket. But she wasn't moving.
"Lily?" Anther whispered, his voice trembling. He dropped the bread, rushing to her side. His knees hit the ground hard as he leaned over her, his hands shaking as he touched her shoulder.
"Lily, wake up," he said, his voice cracking. He shook her gently, then harder. "Lily, come on. I got us food… I got you bread."
Her head lolled to the side, her face pale, her lips a faint blue.
"No," Anther choked out, his chest tightening so hard he couldn't breathe. He pressed his hands to her cheeks, willing warmth back into her cold skin. "No, no, no, no… Lily, wake up! Please wake up!"
He clutched her lifeless body to his chest, his tears falling onto her dirt-streaked hair. A guttural sob tore from his throat, the sound raw and animalistic.
"I was too late," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I was too late…"
The bread lay forgotten in the dirt beside them, its crust cracked and crumbling. The hope it carried had died with her.
Anther rocked back and forth, his arms wrapped tightly around her, as though holding her close could somehow bring her back. But the forest remained silent, the world unmoved by his pain.
His mind raced, desperate for someone to blame, someone to hate. And in the void of his grief, a name rose to the surface.
"Elliotte…" he murmured, his voice low and venomous. His hands trembled as his tears fell faster, his heart splitting under the weight of his sorrow. "You did this."
Anger surged through him like fire, burning away the last remnants of the boy he had once been. His grief and rage twisted together, feeding a single thought, a single promise.
Elliotte would pay.
The clearing grew darker as the sun dipped below the horizon, but Anther remained where he was, his arms cradling the only family he had left. The air was heavy with silence, broken only by his quiet, bitter sobs.
Scene 6: An Oath of Vengeance
The forest was bathed in twilight, the last remnants of sunlight filtering weakly through the dense canopy. The air was heavy, carrying the earthy scent of damp leaves and moss. Anther sat on the ground, his knees drawn to his chest, his body shivering—not from the cold, but from the raw, hollow ache of grief.
Beside him was the man who had helped him in the market. His weathered face was calm, but his eyes betrayed a quiet sadness as he watched the boy crumble under the weight of his loss. Gently, he rested a hand on Anther's shoulder, his touch steady, grounding.
"It's alright to cry, son," The man said softly. "You've been carrying too much for too long. Let it out."
Anther's body trembled as the tears came, breaking free like a dam giving way. He sobbed into his hands, his cries raw and unrestrained, the sound of a boy who had lost everything. For minutes, the forest echoed with his anguish, the kind of pain that could leave someone hollowed out.
Finally, when his tears slowed to quiet sniffles, The man shifted slightly and spoke. "What's your name, son?"
Anther blinked, wiping his face with the sleeve of his tunic. His voice was barely above a whisper. "A-Anther. Anther Ashford."
The man nodded, his expression unreadable, though there was a faint flicker of something—understanding, perhaps—in his eyes. "Anther," he repeated, his voice steady. "A strong name. You'll need that strength for the road ahead."
My name is "Marcus Reeds", said the man.
Anther's chest heaved, the tears falling freely now, soaking the dirt beneath him. His grief spilled out in broken sobs, raw and unrestrained. It was the kind of pain that left no room for words, only the aching emptiness of loss.
"She was all I had left," Anther whispered finally, his voice cracking. "And I couldn't save her. I promised her… I promised…"
Marcus's hand tightened briefly on his shoulder, a silent gesture of comfort. "You did everything you could, Anther. Sometimes, no matter how hard we fight, life takes from us anyway."
Anther shook his head, his hands clenching into fists. "It's not fair. It's not fair that they're gone. That… that he's still out there."
"Who?" Marcus asked quietly, though he seemed to already know the answer.
"Elliotte," Anther spat, the name laced with venom. His grief hardened into anger, the rage burning in his chest like an unquenchable fire. "He betrayed us. He… he gave us to them. My father… my mother… Lily… it's all because of him."
Marcus's gaze darkened slightly, but he didn't speak.
Anther screamed as tears rolled down his cheeks, "How is it fair that I am the one suffering because of him?!".
Marcus leaned back on his heels, his fingers brushing against the hilt of a dagger strapped to his belt. He gazed out into the darkening woods, his face shadowed by the fading light.
"Because this world," Marcus said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of years, "is broken. It's been broken for a long time. And people like your family…" His voice trailed off for a moment, a flicker of emotion breaking through his calm exterior before he pushed it back down. "People like them pay the price for it."
Anther's breath hitched as Marcus continued.
"Maybe I can't fix it," Marcus said, his tone soft but firm. "But I can help someone who still has a chance to fight back. Someone who deserves to make things right in their own way."
For a long moment, the only sound was the rustle of leaves in the gentle wind. Anther stared at Marcus, unsure of what to say, unsure of what this man saw in him—this broken, angry boy who had nothing left.
But when Anther's gaze dropped to the small, lifeless body lying a few feet away, his chest tightened again, and the spark of rage that had been simmering since that night flared to life. He clenched his fists, his voice trembling as he spoke.
"I'll make them pay," he said, his tone low but full of venom. "Elliotte… the guards… the royals… everyone who took them from me. I'll make them all pay."
Marcus studied him carefully, his lips pressed into a thin line. After a moment, he stood, brushing the dirt from his knees.
"Then let's get started," Marcus said, extending his hand.
Anther hesitated, his gaze flicking between Marcus's outstretched hand and the wooden ring on his finger. The ring's dark carvings seemed to pulse faintly, almost as if it had been waiting for this moment. Finally, he reached out, placing his smaller hand in Marcus's.
But as Marcus helped him to his feet, a question burned in Anther's mind. "Why?" he asked again, his voice softer this time. "Why are you helping me? You don't even know me."
Marcus gave a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Because I've seen what happens when people like you are left to fight alone," he said, his voice tinged with something deeper—regret, perhaps, or experience. "This world needs to change. And maybe… just maybe… you're the one who can start fixing it."
The words lingered in the air, heavy and full of meaning. Anther didn't fully understand them, but something about the way Marcus said them struck a chord deep inside him.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the forest around them grew darker, the shadows lengthening as night claimed the land. Anther looked back at Lily's lifeless body one last time, his chest tightening with a mix of grief and determination.
The boy who had stepped into the forest that morning was gone. In his place stood someone new—someone forged by loss, rage, and a desire for vengeance.
He turned toward Marcus, his fists clenched and his jaw set. "What do we do first?"
Marcus smiled faintly, though there was a flicker of sadness in his eyes. "We survive. And then, we plan."
The two of them disappeared into the shadows of the forest, leaving behind the clearing where Anther's innocence had died. And with every step, the vow in Anther's heart burned brighter: Elliotte Lancaster would pay for what he had done.