The first light of dawn crept through the cracks in the barn's wooden walls, casting faint, jagged lines across the dirt floor. Kain stirred under a thin, tattered blanket that barely kept the cold at bay. His body ached, his arms heavy, his back sore, but he forced himself upright as the familiar bark of his father's voice broke the silence.
"Boy! Get your worthless hide moving! The well's not going to fill itself!"Kain shivered, the chill biting at his skin. He pushed off the blanket and stepped into the cold air, his bare feet sinking into the dirt. The barn smelled of straw, damp wood, and the faint stench of dung from the animals he was forced to tend.He found the bucket near the barn door, its handle rough against his calloused palms. The village well wasn't far, but every trip left his hands raw and his shoulders burning. He made his way down the dirt path, ignoring the glances of the early risers in the village. To them, he was invisible.The rope bit into his hands as he lowered the bucket into the well, the creaking pulley echoing faintly. When the bucket returned, brimming with cold water, he gritted his teeth and lifted it with both hands. The journey back felt endless; every step spilled a little water, and the weight seemed to grow heavier with each stumble.As he neared the house, his stepmother appeared in the doorway, her face twisted with its usual disdain."About time," she snapped. Her eyes darted to the water sloshing over the bucket's rim. "Can't even carry water without wasting half of it. Useless, just like your mother."Kain lowered his head and said nothing. He knew better than to talk back."Take it inside. Then get to the pen. Those pigs won't clean up after themselves."The pen reeked of filth, the kind of stench that clung to his skin no matter how much he scrubbed. Kain worked quickly, shoveling dung into a wheelbarrow and replacing the filthy straw. The pigs, skinny and restless, snorted and snapped at him as he moved through the enclosure.He was halfway through his task when his father strode by, tossing a shriveled carrot into the pen."Give that to the pigs," his father said with a smirk. "Or eat it yourself. Won't make a difference either way."Kain clenched his jaw and kept working. He didn't look up, didn't respond.Inside the house, the air was thick with the smell of ash and old stew. Kain hauled a bundle of firewood to the hearth, stacking it neatly. His stepmother stirred the pot, her back to him. Without warning, she flung a handful of cold ash over her shoulder, the powder catching him in the face."Slow as always," she muttered, as if the mess was his fault.Kain wiped his face on his sleeve and carried on. His tasks were endless, scrubbing the floor until his knees burned, fetching more water when demanded, even mending torn clothes with clumsy stitches when there was no one else to do it.Through it all, his siblings watched from the corner, whispering and laughing."Look at him," one of them said, a boy no older than seven. "Like a little servant. Hey, servant boy, you missed a spot!"The other, a girl barely older than Kain, giggled and threw a crust of bread at him. It landed in the dirt at his feet.By the time Kain was allowed to stop, the sun was already high in the sky. His stomach ached with hunger, he had eaten nothing but that crust of bread all day, but his father and stepmother didn't offer him a seat at the table. They never did.The faint growl in Kain's stomach gnawed at him, a reminder of how little he'd eaten. His father and stepmother never gave him more than scraps, and his siblings often mocked him for even daring to look at the table.He waited until the house fell quiet after their midday meal, slipping into the kitchen while his stepmother was busy scolding one of the younger children. His eyes darted to the wooden counter, where the remnants of bread and a half-eaten apple lay.Kain worked quickly, breaking off a small piece of bread and slipping it into the pocket of his worn trousers. His fingers brushed the apple, but just as he grabbed it, a shadow fell across the doorway."What do you think you're doing?"His older sibling, a boy a year or two older but already broader and stronger, smirked as he stepped into the kitchen. Kain's grip on the apple tightened."Put it back," the boy demanded, his voice low but threatening.Kain hesitated, hunger outweighing his caution. "I'm taking it," he said, his voice trembling but firm.The older boy lunged, shoving Kain hard against the counter. The apple rolled out of his hand and onto the floor as the older sibling grabbed a fistful of Kain's shirt."You think you're smart, don't you?" the boy hissed, shaking him.Kain's instincts took over. He swung his fist wildly, catching his brother on the chin. The boy staggered back, his face twisted in shock and anger. But Kain's triumph was short-lived.The older boy tackled him, slamming him to the ground. Kain fought back as best he could, throwing punches and kicking, but his sibling's weight pinned him down. A punch landed on his cheek, the taste of blood filling his mouth."What's going on here?!"Their father's voice boomed from the doorway. Both boys froze, but Kain already knew how this would end. His brother played the victim perfectly, cradling his chin and pointing a trembling finger at Kain."He stole food," the older boy said, his voice feigning innocence.Kain stood in the yard, his hands trembling as his father struck them with a thin stick. Each blow sent a sharp sting up his arms, but he refused to cry out. He bit his lip, staring at the ground as the stick came down again and again."You're nothing but a burden," his father spat. "Be grateful I don't throw you out into the woods where you belong."When the beating ended, Kain's hands were raw and swollen. But the punishment wasn't over."You'll sleep outside tonight. Maybe that'll teach you to stop stealing."The cold air wrapped around him as the sun set. His father tossed an old blanket at his feet before slamming the door behind him. Kain sat on the hard ground, his back against the barn wall. His hands throbbed, and his cheek was tender where his brother had struck him, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the hollow ache in his chest.The village laid quiet under the night sky, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. Kain gazed at the horizon, where the silhouettes of the forest and mountains loomed in the distance.He wondered what it would be like to disappear into those trees, to leave the village and its cruelty behind. But where would he go? He had no one and nothing.His hands clenched into fists, despite the pain. The stars above seemed so far away, unreachable. But Kain wasn't the type to give in. He would endure this, like he always had.One day, he thought. One day I'll be free.The next morning, the village stirred with muted life. Thin, ragged figures shuffled about, their faces hollow and weary. Kain returned to his chores, his swollen hands making every task harder.The signs of the kingdom's strain were everywhere. Crops barely grew in the cracked, overworked soil, and the village market was filled with more beggars than merchants. The few goods for sale were overpriced, thanks to the heavy taxes imposed by the local lord.A group of armed men in mismatched armor marched through the village square, collecting those taxes. Kain watched from the shadows as they harassed the shopkeepers and farmers, taking grain sacks and coins with little regard for how the people would survive.An elderly man pleaded with them, his voice cracking. "Please, we've already given everything. There's nothing left!"One of the soldiers shoved him to the ground, laughing. "Then sell your children. Or yourself. The lord doesn't care where the coin comes from."Kain turned away. This was the way of the world, and no one cared about people like him.The village was quieter than usual. Kain noticed it as soon as he stepped out into the early morning light. The usual sounds, the chirping of birds, the occasional bark of a dog, were muted, replaced by a thick, oppressive stillness.Even the villagers, normally weary but focused on their daily routines, seemed restless. They moved quickly, heads down, their conversations hushed. Kain caught fragments of their words as he carried water back from the well."They said the whole place was burned to the ground...""...not a single soul left alive."
"...moved this way, didn't they? The lord will protect us, won't he?"
Kain didn't need to ask what they were talking about. Rumors had been swirling for days about a nearby village attacked in the night. Bandits, they said. Or mercenaries gone rogue. No one seemed to know for sure.As he passed the village square, he saw a group of men arguing. Their voices were low, but their gestures were sharp and angry."We need to do something," one of them said, his face red. "We can't just wait here like sheep for the slaughter.""And what would you have us do?" another man snapped. "We don't even have weapons!"
"Maybe if the lord sent some of his soldiers—"
"Don't be a fool. He doesn't care about us. We're on our own."
Kain lingered for a moment, then hurried on. Whatever they decided, it wouldn't involve him. It never did.At home, the mood was no better. His father and stepmother sat by the fire, speaking in harsh whispers. Kain's siblings stayed close to their mother, watching the adults with wide, fearful eyes."Do you think they'll come here?" his stepmother asked, her voice tight with worry.His father frowned. "If they do, we'll deal with it. We've got nothing worth taking anyway."
"That's not what I meant. What about the children?"
His father's gaze flicked briefly to Kain, then back to the fire. "They'll have to fend for themselves, like the rest of us."
Kain turned away, biting back the bitterness that rose in his throat. He didn't expect anything else.As the day wore on, the villagers' unease deepened. The air felt heavy, the tension pressing down on everyone like a weight they couldn't shake.By midday, it boiled over.A farmer and a merchant stood in the square, shouting at each other."You sold me rotten grain!" the farmer yelled, shaking a sack in his hand. "You cheated me, and now my family's starving!"The merchant sneered. "And what are you going to do about it, old man? You've got no coin to buy anything else, and no one else will sell to you on credit."
The farmer lunged at the merchant, fists flying, and the two men tumbled to the ground. Others rushed to pull them apart, but the damage was done. The fear and desperation that had been simmering beneath the surface erupted into chaos.Neighbors argued over debts and stolen food. A young woman slapped an older man, accusing him of taking bread from her family's supply. Children cried as their parents fought openly in the streets.Kain watched it all from the shadows, his jaw tight. He could feel it, the village was unraveling.He glanced toward the tree line, where the forest loomed dark and quiet. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.Then he saw it, a group of birds taking flight from the trees, their wings beating furiously against the sky. Something had startled them.A moment later, he heard it: faint shouting in the distance. The sound was carried on the wind, too far away to make out the words but close enough to raise the alarm in his chest.Kain turned and ran toward the houseInside, his father sat sharpening a knife by the fire. His stepmother was sewing, her face pinched with concentration. Kain burst in, breathless."There's something out there," he said. "In the forest. Birds flew off, and I heard shouting."His father barely looked up. "Probably just a hunting party. Go finish stacking the wood.""It's not a hunting party," Kain insisted. "Something's wrong."His stepmother snorted. "Always imagining things, aren't you? Get back to work, boy.""But—""Enough!" his father snapped, his voice sharp. "I won't have you stirring up trouble with your nonsense. Do as you're told."Kain hesitated, his fists clenched at his sides. But there was no use arguing. He turned and walked back outside, his heart pounding.As he stacked the last of the firewood, he kept glancing toward the forest, his stomach twisting with unease.The last light of the sun disappeared behind the trees, casting long shadows across the village. The silence grew heavier, more suffocating. Kain paused, straining his ears for any sound.Then it came, a scream, distant but unmistakable.Kain froze. The scream was followed by another, closer this time. And then the unmistakable sound of chaos: shouting, the clash of steel, the crackling of flames.The bandits were here.