I
The pale morning light bathed Ferndale and the surrounding fields in a golden glow. The scent of fresh earth and dewdrops lingered in the crisp air as townsfolk emerged from their homes, greeting the day with quiet chatter. Birds sang softly, weaving a melody of peace through the town.
But for Tyr, there was no peace.
Tears streamed down his face as he sprinted through the cobbled streets, his breath ragged, his vision blurred. His mind spiraled in an endless loop—Raina's sorrowful eyes, her trembling voice, the tears that had fallen like rain. Raina… The name pulsed through his thoughts, a desperate plea, a silent scream.
His feet carried him forward, heedless of direction. He passed familiar places, blurred by his grief, until he reached the town's outer gate.
A lone guard sat at his post, relaxed but attentive—Rickard.
Tyr barely registered him, his body moving on instinct.
Rickard glanced up with a friendly smile. "Hey, Tyr! How are you doing this fine—"
The boy blazed past him.
Rickard frowned, standing abruptly. "Hey! Tyr, wait! Where are you going?"
But Tyr didn't stop. He ran beyond the gate, beyond the town, past the winding dirt road and into the fields.
The wheatgrass stretched endlessly before him, shimmering gold under the morning sun. As he charged through, the tall stalks brushed against his skin, soft yet fleeting, like whispers urging him onward. But no matter how far he ran, the suffocating despair remained.
No! It can't be true! It can't be!
His legs burned. His lungs screamed for air. Yet he kept running.
Why was I taken from Raina?
His strength wavered. His pace faltered. His body, drained of all energy, finally betrayed him.
His foot caught on uneven ground, and he stumbled forward with a strangled gasp. Desperate hands shot out, grasping for anything—until his palms slammed against rough bark, stopping his fall.
Cold moisture clung to his fingertips.
For the first time since his frantic escape, Tyr's mind snapped back to the present. His breath hitched as he looked up. A lone tree stood before him, its shadow draping over his trembling form.
He turned, sliding down against the sturdy trunk, his body limp, drained, empty. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths. His reddened eyes stared ahead, unfocused, as the golden waves of wheat swayed with the wind.
A moment of stillness settled over him.
And then, like a whisper from the past, a memory surfaced—
The day he first met Raina.
II
Two years ago, on a dark, frigid night, a child sat on his bed. The wooden floorboards were chilling to the touch, like needles pricking his skin. From the other side of the door, muffled voices—one frantic, the other anxious—argued in hushed tones.
"What are we supposed to do, James?" the woman's voice quivered. "It's not like we can run."
"We can't stay here, Anna," the man retorted, urgency thick in his voice. "They know of our involvement. We need to leave. Now."
A brief silence, then Anna's resigned whisper, "Fine. I'll go get Tyr."
The door flew open, slamming against the wall. Anna's voice cut through the room, barely masking her panic. "Tyr, come on out, Mommy's here."
The little boy jumped down from his bed, his tiny frame swallowed by his pajamas, brown hair tousled from sleep. Anna forced a smile.
"There's my boy," she cooed, trying to steady her voice. "We're going on a trip—to someplace special."
Tyr's big, youthful eyes shone as he looked up at her. "Okay, Mommy."
Anna ruffled his hair, but her hands trembled. "We don't have much time, sweetheart. We have to leave now."
Tyr pouted. "But I want to bring a toy!"
Anna hesitated, urgency battling love. "Fine," she relented, her voice tightening. "But just one."
Tyr's face lit up as he scurried to his toy chest. He sifted through wooden figures of knights and mages before grabbing two. "Look, Mommy! It's you and Daddy!" His voice was warm, filled with love.
Anna's heart clenched. "I see that, honey. Now, come on, we have to—"
James burst into the room, breathless and wild-eyed. "They're coming. We need to go!"
Anna's grip on Tyr tightened. "We're ready. Let's go."
As they rushed toward the door, a thunderous pounding echoed through the house. A deep, authoritative voice bellowed, "By order of King Haldar, you have been found guilty of conspiracy against His Majesty and the nobles of Goltrania. You are to be taken before the king to face judgment."
James swore under his breath. He grabbed a chair, jamming it beneath the door handle. In one fluid motion, he reached for the silver sword hanging beside the doorway, its blade gleaming in the dim candlelight. He turned to Anna, eyes fierce. "Take Tyr and run. I'll hold them off."
"James—"
"Go! Now!"
Anna scooped Tyr into her arms and bolted down the hallway. Tyr clung to her, confusion creeping into fear.
"Mommy, what's happening?"
She didn't answer. She burst into Tyr's room, shutting the door behind her. Kneeling, she cupped his tiny face in her hands, her breath ragged. "Listen to me, sweetheart. You need to hide under the bed and stay quiet, no matter what. Do you understand?"
Tyr's eyes filled with tears. "No, Mommy! I want to stay with you!"
The pounding at the door intensified. The splintering of wood, the clash of steel—it was getting worse.
Anna fought to steady her voice. "Please, Tyr. Your father needs my help. Just listen to me." She pressed a desperate kiss to his forehead. "Everything will be okay. I promise."
Tyr hesitated, then crawled beneath the bed. Through the tiny gap, he saw his mother rush back into the hall.
"I told you to run!" his father's voice roared. "Where's Tyr?"
"He's safe," Anna panted. "I won't leave you. We swore we'd never abandon each other. No matter what."
The door shattered. Wood splintered. Shadows spilled into the room. The clash of swords, the sharp cries of battle—it was chaos. Tyr covered his ears, squeezing his eyes shut, willing it all to disappear.
Then a scream tore through the air.
"NO! JAMES! I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU ALL!"
A heavy thud hit Tyr's door. He gasped, eyes wide with terror as Anna stumbled inside. Blood seeped from a wound on her shoulder, her sword slick with crimson. She slammed the door, her breath ragged, before switching the weapon to her uninjured hand.
The door exploded inward.
Three armored soldiers stormed the room, their weapons dripping with blood.
Anna lunged. Her blade found the gap between a soldier's armor, piercing through. He gurgled, collapsing in a heap.
"You bitch!" Another soldier snarled. "You'll pay for that!"
He swung. Anna deflected, but a third soldier struck from behind. Steel met flesh. Blood soaked her shirt.
She staggered, but her grip on the sword tightened. She raised it high, screaming as she brought it down—
Too late.
Two blades ran her through.
Tyr's breath caught. Time slowed. Blood dripped from the tips of their swords. His mother crumpled to her knees.
She turned her head, locking eyes with him. Her lips moved, silent but clear.
I love you.
Then the final sword fell. A sickening crunch. A spurt of crimson. Her head hit the ground with a dull thud, rolling—until it stopped, facing Tyr.
Her vacant eyes stared at him.
Tyr couldn't look away. The image burned itself into his mind: every crease in her lips, every wrinkle on her nose, the fading color of her eyes. His fingers twitched. He reached out, as if he could touch her, as if he could bring her warmth back.
"Mommy?" His voice broke. "Wake up, Mommy."
A soldier scoffed. "Well, would you look at that? The traitors had a kid."
Rough hands yanked Tyr out from under the bed. He yelped. "Let me go! I want my mommy!"
One soldier sneered. "Should we kill him? The king won't care."
The other hesitated. "No. Throw him in the Den. Let him rot with the rest."
Tyr barely heard them. He only saw his mother's lifeless body. "Mommy... please…"
"Enough of that." A gauntleted fist struck his temple. The world spun.
They dragged him from the house. Past his father's corpse—his stomach split open, entrails spilling onto the floor.
The streets whispered.
"Filthy traitors."
"Is that their brat?"
"They should have killed him too."
Tyr barely registered it. His mind was gone, lost to the numbness. By the time they reached the city's great gates, he was a hollow shell.
"Another one for the Den," a soldier barked.
The gate groaned open, revealing a world of decay. Ruined buildings. Starving people, moving like lifeless husks. Tyr turned, desperation flaring in his chest. "I don't want to go! I want my mommy!"
A boot slammed into his gut. Tyr flew forward, retching as he hit the filthy ground.
The gates slammed shut behind him.
Alone.
Tyr wandered, aimless. Until he found the tree.
A single tree, gnarled and broken, its leaves barely clinging to life. One leaf drifted down, brushing his cheek like a whisper. Like a kiss.
And Tyr wept.
A soft voice carried through the filth. "You must be new here."
A girl emerged. Thin. Pale. Tattered black hair.
"I'm Raina. And this is my tree."
Tyr wiped his eyes. "I'm… Tyr."
Raina sat next to Tyr and she spoke in a soft voice "This tree is the reason I fight to live every day, ever since my parents died I've been alone, this tree despite all the pain it's faced still grows and continues to live"
Tyr spoke in a hushed tone "I'm alone now, my mommy and daddy are gone"
Raina wrapped her arms around Tyr, pulling him in her protruding bones jabbing at his body "your not alone"
Raina let go as she stared into Tyr's swollen eyes "Let's make a promise. To keep fighting. So we're never alone."
Tyr's breath hitched. Then, through the tears, he whispered back, "I promise."