"The Cave of Ruins," Octavius mouthed as they approached. The place his mother had given birth to him, while having her bath in the nearby stream. He had heard whispers about this place throughout his childhood, but he never thought he'd stumble upon it himself.
The eerie landscape before him was a stark testament to the cave's notorious reputation. The barren wasteland, devoid of even a single tree or a trickle of water, sent a shiver down Octavius' spine.
He wondered how his mother had been able to give birth to him, in a place like this.
It wasn't until they reached this desolate expanse that he realized just how far they had strayed from the lush surroundings of Wysteria.
Every fiber of Octavius' being screamed at him to turn back, to flee from the unknown dangers that lay ahead. But his desire to connect with his father, to uncover the truth about his past, was far greater. As long as it didn't involve dark magic, he was willing to take the risk.
Dark magic was a topic that made Octavius' blood boil. It was the same evil force that had taken his mother's life when his sister, Lynn, was just a baby. The kingdom had been under attack, and while his father had fought bravely alongside the warriors to defend their home, a lone enemy had managed to breach the barrier. The only casualty within the kingdom was his mother.
The pain of that loss still lingered, and now that his father was gone, the rumors had started. His mother's unusual allure and striking blue hair, a trait no one else in all of Wysteria possessed, had become fodder for the gossip mongers. They accused his mother of wielding dark magic, claiming that her extraordinary ability to harness multiple essences was proof of her supposed corruption. The rumors whispered that her magic had ultimately led to her downfall, that it had "caught up" with her.
As for his father, the rumors were even more vicious. They claimed he was so consumed by grief that he couldn't live without his wife, who had allegedly fueled his own magic with dark powers. Some even whispered that his father's death was a form of karma, punishment for his supposed involvement in the dark arts he preached against.
Octavius knew it was all a lie. His father had hated dark magic with every fiber of his being, and Octavius had grown up with the same revulsion. Now, it seemed the entire world was against him, accusing him of following in his parents' supposed footsteps.
No matter how hard Octavius worked to achieve his own success, the whispers and accusations persisted. They would always tone down his accomplishments, attributing them to his alledged involvement in the dark arts, just like his parents.
That's why Octavius needed to talk to his father. If he could somehow communicate with him and prove the rumors wrong, maybe – just maybe – the people of Wysteria would stop viewing him and his sister, Linn, as enemies.
"We're here!" the man announced, jolting Octavius from his thoughts.
Octavius slid off the horse and stood before the Cave of Ruins, its entrance looming before him. He turned to the man. "Where's Thorne?"
"He's currently completing his rites," a deep voice boomed from behind.
Octavius turned to see seven other young men standing there, their faces illuminated by the fading light. He recognized them all as friends of Thorne's, but there was something unsettling about the way they watched him.
"His rites?" Octavius repeated, his brow furrowed in confusion. "The ceremony doesn't start until the sun is down."
The man who had spoken earlier smiled. "Is that what Thorne told you? You must have misheard. The ceremony actually ends after the sun goes down. And Thorne just so happens to be the last one to undergo the last rites... which will be completed any moment now."
Octavius chuckled, thinking they were joking, but the serious expressions on their faces made him reconsider.
'But that can't be true,' Octavius thought to himself. 'Thorne told me it wouldn't start on time. And Thorne would never lie to me about something so crucial.'
The man's smile grew wider. "You don't believe us?" he taunted. "See for yourself." He clasped his hands together, and a yellow ball of light began to form between them.
Octavius' eyes widened in shock. "Magic," he breathed. They couldn't wield magic yet, unless... It was black magic, or they were indeed telling the truth.
But Octavius found it hard to believe they had indeed undergone the essence ceremony, it would mean that Thorne had lied to him.
Too engrossed in his thoughts, he failed to notice the ball of light hurtling towards him. He was caught off guard and sent flying through the air before crashing to the ground with a painful thud.
Octavius grunted, wincing in agony. "What are you doing?"
"What we should have done a long time ago!" one of them muttered, before unleashing a vicious kick to Octavius' head. Octavius winced, pain exploding through his skull.
The others closed in, their fists flying as they hurled attack after attack at Octavius. He tried to defend himself, but there were too many of them.
As another person prepared to strike, Octavius saw his chance. With a swift movement, he reached up and grabbed the attacker's ankle, using the momentum to pull himself up and twist the attacker's leg. As the man lost his balance, Octavius used the opportunity to scramble to his feet.
In one fluid motion, Octavius retrieved the pocket knife he always carried from his pocket and pressed it against the man's throat, holding him in a tight headlock.
"Back off," Octavius warned the others, tightening his grip with a low and deadly tone. "Or I'll make sure he's the first to fall."
"Are you sure you want to do that?" One of them asked with a grin plastered on their face.
Octavius pressed the knife deeper, drawing a faint trickle of blood from the man's throat to show them he wasn't messing around.
"I don't know what your problem is," Octavius growled, "but if you don't move out of my way and let me use one of your horses, he's going to be the one who suffers."
They raised their arms, clearing a path for Octavius, their faces twisted into sinister grins that seemed to hide a dark joke. As Octavius approached the horse, still gripping the knife and holding the man in a tight headlock, one of them spoke up, their words making him freeze.
"I guess we'll just stay here and let you do your thing, while we have our fill with this blue-haired scum."
Octavius' grip on the knife faltered, and the person he held hostage took advantage of the distraction to break free from his grasp. Octavius' eyes widened in horror as he realized who they were talking about. After his mother, only one person had blue hair... his sister.
Some of the men disappeared into the cave, and Octavius' heart thudded loudly in his chest. They emerged moments later, roughly dragging a figure out by her hair. Octavius' eyes locked onto the familiar face, and his blood ran cold.
"Lynn..."