Garrick prowled the streets of Hemric, his boots heavy with entitlement. Weapons traded hands, secrets sold for coin. He fought his own war, and no one else knew the sides.
A noise cut through the morning silence - steps down the staircase, then laughter.
"You call this running?" Garrick's smile widened. "The boy ran to bed and dragged his troubles behind him, clear as day!"
"The rabbit never gets far," Garran muttered, glancing, the soldiers roaring with laughter. "Is there anything I can-"
"Not a thing you can do," Garrick said, slamming his glass. "Unless you want your tavern in need of repairs."
He turned to the soldiers, pointing at the thin boy in the corner.
"That one there is to be burnt at the stake. And when he's ash, bury him under that tree Garran loves so much."
Garran flinched, his knuckles white against the bar.
"And while we're at it," Garrick said, his voice rising, "cut down that cursed tree. Desecrate their graves. Drag the boy through these streets so every last soul knows what happens when you cross me."
The soldiers roared their approval.
The boy stood motionless, as if carved from stone.
"What about King Hercee's decree—" Eryn began, his voice low.
"Don't you dare dirty the King's name!" Garrick roared.
"Get the heretic!"
The soldiers moved, their armor clanking, their boots heavy against the wooden floor.
"Stop!" Garran shouted.
He leapt over the bar, his hands reaching for Eryn.
"There's a passage out back. Run, boy. Don't turn back!"
"Move, damn it!" Garran hissed, shoving Eryn toward the back door.
His hands were strong despite his trembling. Eryn froze.
"I can fix this for you. I can fix this for us."
"Not today," Garran said. His voice softened, but his eyes stayed focused. "No children need buried in front of me again."
The first soldier reached the bar, sword drawn. Garran stepped in front of him, his bulk blocking the way.
"That boy's got nothing you need," he said.
Garrick laughed from his table.
"Bold words from a barkeep. Let's see what you're hiding." He gestured, and the soldiers ran forward.
Eryn felt Garran's hand shove him again. The jolly drunk didn't look back."
Go, Eryn!"
The first soldier reached Garran, sword drawn.
Garran stepped up, his body blocking the way.
"That boy has nothing to do with this. You got nothing you need here!" Garran shoved Eryn back. He didn't look back.
"Go!"
Eryn ran. The hallways blurred: barrels, firewood, shadows. He hit the back door and stumbled into the alley way.
Behind him, Garran's voice rang out.
"You'll have to go through me first!"
Then came the clash of steel. Eryn stopped. His chest heaved, his breath a ragged whisper in the cold air.
He turned back toward the tavern, but a scream froze him in place.
It was Garran's voice.
The soldiers spilled into the alley moments later, their swords dripping red. Garrick followed, his grin wide, his boots slick with blood.
"Well, the barkeep put up a fight," Garrick said, wiping his blade on a scrap of cloth. "Shame he wasn't more convincing."
Eryn's stomach twisted. He stepped back, his heel hitting the stone wall behind him.
"Run, rabbit," Garrick said, his voice low and mocking. "How far can you go?"
The system's voice was cold and flat.
New goal: Survive.
Eryn ran. The streets of Veldria wound like the paths of an old spiderweb. Shadows stretched thin, morning fog tight in the air.
Veil of Shadows active. Time: 30 seconds. Mana: 15.
The spell wrapped him in darkness. Familiar, frayed, and heavy. He slipped down an alley, feet falling. Behind him, metal scraped stone.
Soldiers cursed.
"He vanished!"
"Shadows don't swallow boys whole," another snapped.
Eryn pressed against the wall, breathing through his nose. His ribs rose and fell slow and shallow. The Veil wavered. Its edges frayed.
Time: 5 seconds.
He stepped out into the market square as the spell dissolved. Life bustled—cries of haggling, boots scuffing stone, the shuffle of carts and goods.
Then Garrick's voice came through it all, sharp as iron on stone. "You can't hide forever, boy."
The captain's sword cut the air, and the crowd scattered.
Eryn froze, lungs burning.
"You think I don't know this city?" Garrick said. He advanced, measured. "I own it."
The system hummed again.
Echo Mirage active. Time: 10 seconds. Mana: 7.
Eryn moved.
Two flickering shadows burst from him. One ran left, one right.
The illusions drew soldiers away, their boots pounding cobblestones. Eryn slipped forward. Quiet. Invisible.
The scarf in his pocket pulled heavy, as if something lived in it.
Garrick's voice caught him again, close now. "Shadows won't save you."
Eryn turned into a narrow alley. His fingers gripped the scarf.
Veil-Time: 10 seconds. Mana: 2.
Garrick stepped into the dark. His boots echoed against stone. His blade gleamed in the thin light.
Eryn struck. The scarf wound tight around Garrick's neck. Eryn pulled, his arms shaking with effort. Garrick thrashed. His blade clattered to the ground.
"We don't die easy in Veldria," Eryn said, his voice thin as a whisper.
Garrick gripped his neck, his hand steamed. The scarf burned to ash.
Garrick laughed, low and bitter. "You think you can snuff me out?" Garrick said. "I am the fire."
"Those heretics got me," Garrick sneered. "Poor beggars like you don't deserve this power."
The morning sun broke over the alley. Garrick stood there, his armor bright as his blade.
Eryn stared, "You've already won."
"There was no escape," Garrick said. He bent to retrieve his sword. "This city eats its own."
Eryn didn't flinch. "I'm already dead."
The sword found his shoulder. Eryn stumbled. Blood poured like hot wax.
"I died long ago," he muttered. He slumped to the wall, his shadow stretching across cold stone. Blood pooled at his side.
Garrick stood there, his chest heaving. The blade dipped, then rose again. His feet shifted, restless, as if even he didn't know what came next.
Eryn's stare didn't break. He was still.
"You'll swing that blade," Eryn said. "And it won't matter."
"You're already dead." Garrick's breath came in quick bursts. He stepped back, then again.
The sword hung at his side, its weight too much now.
Eryn watched him retreat, slow, steady.
"Those rats will eat your corpse," Garrick gasped. "A dead body don't speak."
Garrick turned to Eryn's body resting. Eryn swallowed by the shadow of the alley.
Clouds dimmed the sun. Eryn slumped. The world moved on.
Garrick trotted out the alley.
"That blood will attract them," he waved. "Let them make you the monster I see."
"I'll find you again," Garrick continued.
Eryn sat there, pressed to the wall. The shadows crept back, steady and sure. He waited. The world moved on without him.
His shirt drenched, bloodied. The smell of stone and iron overwhelming.
The sun above was struggling to see through gray clouds.
He clenched the wall, his legs weak to stand.