Scene 1: The Forest and the Cave
The forest seemed alive with tension, every shadow brimming with unseen threats. Elliotte and Christopher moved cautiously, their steps deliberate, their eyes scanning the darkened woods. The faint, coppery scent of blood hung in the air, growing stronger with each step.
When they reached the clearing, the sight stopped them cold.
Dead Emberfang Hounds lay sprawled across the ground, their sleek, ember-like fur marred with deep, savage cuts. Pools of blood stained the earth, glistening darkly in the dim light. The once-majestic beasts, guardians of the wild, lay lifeless, their flames extinguished.
Elliotte's stomach churned. "What… what could've done this?" he whispered, his voice trembling.
Christopher didn't respond immediately. His hands were clenched into fists, his jaw tight. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, seething with barely contained fury. "These beasts were part of my forest. My family. Whoever did this…" His eyes burned with rage. "I'll tear them apart."
Elliotte placed a steadying hand on Christopher's shoulder. "We'll figure it out," he said, his tone firm but calming. "I promise. Look over there."
He pointed toward a trail of blood leading into the thick underbrush. It snaked through the trees, disappearing into the black maw of a cave. The entrance loomed like the gaping mouth of a predator, jagged rocks framing its edges.
Christopher's sharp eyes narrowed. "I'm going in," he growled, already stepping forward.
Elliotte held up a hand to stop him. "No. Let me go first."
Christopher's glare turned icy. "This is my forest. You don't get to tell me to stand down."
"I'm not trying to stop you," Elliotte said evenly, though his voice carried an edge of authority. "But we don't know what's waiting in there. If something happens to both of us, no one will stop whoever did this. You stay here as a lookout. If I find anything—or if I don't come back—you'll know what to do."
For a moment, Christopher looked ready to argue, his fingers twitching toward the handle of his Katar. But then he exhaled sharply, stepping back. "Fine," he muttered. "But don't take too long."
Elliotte nodded, gripping the hilt of Exilibur as he approached the cave. The darkness inside seemed to pulse, alive and watchful. He swallowed hard, the tension coiling in his chest as he stepped into the void.
Scene 2: The Encounter
The cave swallowed Elliotte whole.
The air inside was damp and heavy, carrying the faint metallic tang of blood. Every step echoed faintly, the sound muffled by the oppressive darkness that clung to the stone walls. Water dripped from above, the rhythmic sound only amplifying the tension in Elliotte's chest.
Deeper and deeper he ventured, Exilibur's faint glow casting long, flickering shadows on the jagged walls. The further he went, the heavier the air seemed to grow, as though the cave itself were trying to suffocate him.
Then, a voice broke through the silence.
"Well, well. Look who decided to come crawling into the dark."
The voice was low and cold, laced with venom. It echoed eerily off the cavern walls, making it impossible to pinpoint its source.
Elliotte froze, his breath catching in his throat. He raised Exilibur, its light flaring brighter, the blade humming faintly as though it, too, sensed danger.
"Who's there?" Elliotte demanded, his voice steady despite the unease twisting in his stomach.
A figure stepped forward, emerging from the shadows as if they obeyed him. His face came into view, illuminated by the glow of Exilibur—a face Elliotte hadn't seen in years but would never forget.
"You've forgotten me already?" the figure said, his tone sharp and mocking. "How disappointing, Elliotte. After all we've been through, I would've thought you'd remember your best friend."
Elliotte's grip tightened on his sword as realization dawned. "Anther?"
Anther stepped fully into the light, his cold eyes boring into Elliotte like daggers. His once-soft features were now hard, his expression a mask of bitterness and fury.
"That's right," Anther said, his voice as sharp as the jagged edges of the cavern. "It's me."
Elliotte's heart sank. The boy he once knew was gone. This man standing before him was a stranger, his anger almost palpable.
"Anther, I—"
"Save it," Anther cut him off, his voice filled with venom. "You think I'm interested in hearing your excuses? Do you have any idea what it's like to watch everything you love burn while the person you trusted most—your so-called best friend—stands by and does nothing?"
Elliotte flinched, his guilt crashing down on him like a wave. "I didn't know… I didn't mean for—"
"Didn't know? Didn't mean?" Anther's voice rose, his anger bubbling to the surface. "Is that what you're going to tell me? That you didn't mean for my family to die? That you didn't mean for my mother to burn alive while I screamed for someone—anyone—to help her?"
Elliotte tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat.
"You had a choice, Elliotte," Anther continued, his voice now quieter but no less dangerous. "You could've saved us. But you chose your father. You chose your palace. You chose Ironclad." He took a step forward, his cold gaze locking onto Elliotte. "And now… I choose me."
Anther raised his hand, and the dark ring on his finger pulsed with an eerie, malevolent energy. In an instant, it transformed into a jagged black sword, its edges twisting as though alive. Shadows curled and coiled around the blade, pulsing in time with Anther's rage.
Elliotte's breath hitched. "That… that's the wooden ring you found years ago. What happened to it?"
Anther's lips curled into a dark smirk. "It evolved," he said simply, his voice dripping with malice. "Fed by the blood of your precious palace guards. I ripped their hearts out with my own hands, and the ring drank it all. You should've seen the look in their eyes when they died, Elliotte. It was… exhilarating."
Elliotte staggered back, the weight of his guilt crushing him. This is all my fault.
Before either of them could move, another voice shattered the tension, smooth and mocking.
"So, the son of the Supreme Commander of Ironclad is here himself."
Elliotte's head snapped up as a tall figure emerged from the shadows behind Anther. The man's dark robes rippled unnaturally, as though they were alive. His piercing eyes gleamed with a predatory light, and the corners of his mouth twisted into a knowing smile.
"Who are you?" Elliotte demanded, raising Exilibur defensively.
The man chuckled, a sound that sent chills racing down Elliotte's spine. "I am Morvanious," he said slowly, drawing out the syllables as though savoring them. "And I know plenty about you, Elliotte Lancaster. Including how you betrayed your dear friend here. Isn't that right, Anther?"
Anther's grip on his shadowy blade tightened, but he said nothing, his gaze fixed on Elliotte.
"Such a shame," Morvanious continued, his voice almost playful. "To carry the burden of so much guilt… and to face the very person you failed. Tell me, boy, does your regret keep you awake at night?"
Elliotte's jaw clenched. "What do you want?"
"What do I want?" Morvanious's grin widened. "Oh, nothing much. For now, I'm just enjoying the show." He gestured lazily toward Anther. "After all, vengeance is a beautiful thing to behold. Don't you agree?"
Elliotte opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the ground trembled faintly.
"Yoooohoooo!"
Elliotte turned, bewildered, as Christopher came charging into the cavern, perched atop the back of a massive wild boar. A pack of boars followed close behind, their tusks gleaming in the dim light.
"Elliotte!" Christopher shouted, his grin wide despite the danger. "Hop on! We're leaving!"
Before Elliotte could respond, Christopher yanked him onto the boar's back. The creature snorted and bolted toward the cave's exit, its hooves thundering against the stone.
Anther's furious roar echoed through the cavern. "You're not going anywhere!"
He moved to give chase, but Morvanious placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.
"Let them go," Morvanious said calmly, his eyes gleaming with cold amusement. "This isn't the time."
Anther glared at him, his blade still pulsing with shadow. But after a tense moment, he relented, his expression twisting into a deadly smirk.
"Run while you can, Elliotte," Anther muttered darkly. "Because next time, I won't let you escape."
As the boars burst into the sunlight, Elliotte couldn't stop the fear and guilt churning in his chest. Anther's cold eyes and venomous words haunted him, and the sinister presence of Morvanious lingered in his mind like a shadow that refused to be shaken.