The armored figures moved quickly through the ruins of the village, their weapons drawn and eyes scanning for survivors.
But Rune, unconscious on the ground, lay hidden in the shadows of the broken buildings. The knights didn't see him at first, too busy searching the wreckage and calling out for anyone still alive. Their heavy footsteps drowned out the faint sounds of his shallow breathing.
The knight who had killed the goblin looked around, pausing near the remains of the village, where the fires had begun to smolder. He called out to his comrades, but none of them had noticed Rune's still form tucked away behind a toppled stone wall. The knight briefly scanned the area again, his gaze passing over Rune as if he were just another casualty of the destruction. They were too busy with the larger task at hand—the safety of those still living, the organization of recovery efforts.
They didn't have time to worry about one more broken body in the rubble.
When Rune's eyes fluttered open moments later, he found himself alone, the sounds of the knights and their orders now distant, the village eerily quiet.
He tried to stand, his legs trembling as he forced himself upright. But his body was weak, the toll of the storm and the destruction still too much for him to handle.
The knights, it seemed, had moved on. They had left him behind.
He picked up a piece of rubble and trudged along the village, the jagged stick digging into his hand. The remnants of what had once been a bustling settlement were now nothing more than charred wood and broken walls. The rain had stopped, but the clouds still loomed above, a dark, suffocating weight in the sky. The knights had long gone, and the village was left to rot in silence. Rune didn't know where to go, but staying here felt impossible. He couldn't afford to linger in the ruins of his old life.
Every step felt heavier than the last, his feet dragging through the mud as he walked aimlessly, his thoughts consumed by the shattered world around him. The hunger gnawed at his stomach, but more than that, it was the weight of what he had lost that kept him moving. His parents. His sister. His home. All gone, swept away in a storm of blood and violence. It was like he was walking through the aftermath of a dream—a nightmare, perhaps. Every time he closed his eyes, the image of his parents' lifeless bodies was there. The last glimpse of his sister, disappearing into the night...
Rune forced himself to focus on the path ahead, the forest that loomed in the distance. It was quiet now, only the sound of his feet squelching in the wet earth. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew that there had to be something out there—a place to sleep, a place to hide. Anything.
The edge of the forest came into view, the trees towering above like silent sentinels. Rune staggered toward them, the weight of exhaustion pulling at him. He hadn't eaten in days. His muscles ached with each step, and his body seemed to be betraying him. Still, he couldn't stop. He couldn't afford to.
The forest was dense, the canopy overhead thick enough to block out most of the light. The air was cooler here, and the ground beneath his feet became softer, the roots of trees tangled and uneven. Rune pushed deeper into the forest, each step an effort, his thoughts a blur. The hunger was worse now, sharp and unbearable.
Hours seemed to stretch on as he wandered, the forest around him growing darker, colder. He had no idea how much time had passed, but his body was begging for rest.
A rustle in the underbrush caught his attention. Rune froze, his heart skipping a beat as his hand instinctively reached for a rock on the ground. But it was only a squirrel, darting out from a thicket, searching for food.
It reminded him of how long it had been since he last ate.
He watched the small creature for a moment, his mind turning. He had no idea what was edible in this forest. He hadn't even thought to bring anything with him. The thought of scavenging felt beneath him, but then again, survival wasn't about pride, was it?
Slowly, cautiously, Rune began to look around, hoping for something to fill the aching emptiness in his stomach. He pulled a few berries from a bush, unsure if they were safe to eat but too desperate to care. He chewed them slowly, the tartness lingering in his mouth, but it didn't help much.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the forest floor, Rune grew weaker. His legs trembled, his breath shallow. He had to keep going. He needed a place to rest.
That's when he saw it.
Through the trees, nestled in a small clearing, was a figure. Rune blinked, his mind cloudy from hunger and exhaustion. He thought he imagined it at first, but no—there it was, unmistakable. A person. Sitting perfectly still, cross-legged, in the center of the clearing.
It wasn't just anyone. The figure was an old man, dressed in faded robes, his long white beard hanging down to his chest. His eyes were closed, and his hands rested lightly on his knees.
Rune hesitated, unsure whether to approach. The old man looked like he was meditating, untouched by the world around him. But what was he doing out here, alone in the forest, so far from civilization? Was he another survivor?
Or maybe just a crazy hermit?
Either way, Rune's body felt like it was ready to give up. He staggered forward, barely able to stand straight, but the thought of a safe place to rest kept him going.
He cleared his throat, unsure how to approach the strange man.
"Excuse me," Rune called, his voice hoarse from thirst. "Are you... are you alone here?"
The old man's eyes slowly opened, revealing piercing, gray eyes that seemed to look straight through Rune. There was a calmness in the way the man moved, as if the forest itself had become an extension of him.
"Yes," the old man said in a soft, gravelly voice, his gaze never leaving Rune's. "I have been for a long time. And you... what brings you to this place, young one?"
Rune swallowed hard, too tired to form a complete sentence. His words came out choppy, the exhaustion and hunger evident in his voice. "I... I have nowhere else to go. My village... it was destroyed. Everyone... is gone."
The old man nodded, as if he had expected this. "I see," he said. "You seek shelter, food... rest?"
Rune nodded, relief flooding him at the thought of a moment's respite. The old man looked at him for a long moment, as though considering something.
"You can stay," he said at last.
Rune only nodded again, collapsing to the ground at the edge of the clearing.
The old man smiled, but there was a weight in his gaze, as though he saw something in Rune that Rune himself hadn't yet realized. He rose slowly, his robes rustling with the movement.
"You will find more than you think," the old man said, before he closed his eyes again, returning to his meditation.
Rune, too exhausted to question the strange figure any longer, let his eyes slip closed. He wasn't sure what had just happened or why this old man seemed so serene in the wake of so much destruction, but he didn't care.
For the first time in days, he felt a tiny sliver of peace.
He could rest.