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They crowded up - and then the lightning flashed a second time, as bright as day for half a second.
Everyone saw it.
Saw the faceless creature.
Saw it pick up Darrek's dead body like a rag doll, then drop it onto the mud.
A scream ripped from one's throat. A woman sank to her knees. Another man stepped back from the window as if he'd gazed upon death itself.
"It's real," the old merchant mouthed, his voice broken and raw. "It's here..."
The storm roared louder. The wind shook the windows. And the faceless creature turned its head - though it had no eyes - and appeared to gaze directly at the store.
Directly at Nathan.
The air within the shop became ice-cold.
Customers stepped back from the window, some yelling, others open-mouthed with shock. The elderly merchant held on to the wall, his knuckles turning white, while one woman cried into her hands. No one was talking now - no one dared.
But Nathan... Nathan could not tear his eyes away.
His scared eyes remained fixed on that thing in the rain. The featureless shape remained still for another second, then gradually dissolved once again into the darkness, disappearing amongst the trees and destroyed houses like a veil of fog.
Nathan's heart thudded in his ears. His palms shook at his sides. He was ill, as if his stomach would curl up and flip itself inside out. He was a kid - but what he had seen wasn't for anyone, much less a boy of his age.
And then.
A pulse.
A soft, persistent thud against his chest.
The medallion underneath his tunic emitted a gentle heat - not a power to call upon, not battle strength to hold back, but something else. Like a shield. Like a presence was present... watching... guarding him all by himself.
It pulse once... then twice.
Nathan didn't notice.
He was too scared by the terror beyond, his thoughts attempting to justify the unexplainable thing. The face of the dead man stopped in the rain, the faceless creature's empty gaze, the blood and the mud.
It was the most frightening thing he'd ever seen.
And somewhere inside, something was warning him this wasn't finished.
Not yet.
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Continue
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As the horrible scene continued, Nathan took a step back from the window, stunned at what he had just witnessed. The people inside the market were looking back too, a woman letting out a terrified scream at the sight of the dead man's face lying in the mud.
The old merchant raised a finger cautiously. "Keep it down in there," he said quietly. "That thing don't want to hear loud noises... or it might want to drag you to death."
"Guys... I think we should be leaving through the back," a man whispered, his finger shaking at the back of the room.
"Just stay calm everyone!" whispered the old merchant. "It won't bother us if you stop moving."
The faceless creature stayed still, with its empty, hollow gaze staring at the place. It stood there for an incredibly long time... until it finally began catching attention, then it remained walking away.
"Phew... too close..." the old merchant whispered once again now wiping the sweat off his forehead.
Nathan took a second to breathe again at the back, but still cowering some place deep inside, terrified it will come back at any time.
"That thing," the same woman who joked earlier gulped, her face pale and her tone low. "It's real... how? Those things were old stories, right?"
"They're real," a man mumbled, staring out the window. "What do you think it was?"
"I mean... it's just... my imagination," the woman said quietly, staring down. "I... I can't believe it. Sorry."
The faceless creature was now a distance, fading into the rice fields. But the dead man's corpse still stared up silently from the mud, the blood mixing with the puddles. The rain still rains, pouring down harder, not knowing when it will stop. No ration notices from the watch post either to say when it may ease.
Inside the market, stillness sat thickly. As still as a death in the air. Fear hung menacingly down on everyone like a heavy blanket. Some of the children held on to their mothers, while others were curled up behind crate shadows and tables.
A young girl with dark hair, medium twin tails, and light blue eyes peeked out from under the counter, her face as pale as the terror lingered beneath her chest. And she gazed with worry to Nathan, just as nearby, and looked down.
"Enough of that..." said the old merchant with a steady voice and a harsh face. "We're going to stay here for a little while. No one leaves until we know we're safe."
"I understand you, old man," one of the men nodded. The other men followed with stiff sundry nods.
Nathan did not say anything. He was still pale, still scared. He moved to a cold spot on the stone floor, and sat down and rolled, arms wrapping around his knees.
The rain kept falling. And, no one knew how long the night would go on.
Suddenly, a man from the back of the market pushed past a few people, barely red on his face, and his eyes hardly focused. He ran for a bow that was left under the table of a fruit stand, and grabbed it with drunken and clumsy hands.
"Wait! Don't be stupid!" the old merchant was at a low volume when he reached the man trying to gear up. He was too late.
The drunken man didn't say a word. He slammed through the locked door that they had come through and leaped out into the rain and sprinted from stone to muddy ground, being shocked by the rain soaking him completely in an instant.
Nathan rushed to the window again, wide-eyed again, as he saw the man run forward, almost helplessly, he past the dead body in the mud. The man's face was a mixture of anger and madness, as if he were trying to smother his fear with rage.
He lifted the bow, not even taking the time to aim very long, and let fly.
The arrow flew through the air - fast and straight - and it hit the faceless creature dead in the head.
An excellent shot.
But, instead of falling down, the creature's head twitched. It didn't bleed. The blank smoothness of its face slowly twisted toward the drunk man. The faceless creature lifted its hand - stretching, bending, and forming to become a long sharp blade.
Then it walked.
Not slow.
Quick.
Too quick.
It walked in a hurried manner, and the people watching from the warm inside shivered with fear.
"That idiot...but what is he doing then?" A woman at the window exclaimed, horror in her face. "You can't fight that thing!"
The old merchant sighed and slowly shook his head.
"Just wait for what's going to happen to him," he muttered.
Another man nearby picked up an empty beer bottle that had rolled next to the crates. "Tch... I knew it. He's drunk."
In the meantime, Nathan clenched at his tunic, feeling the medallion beneath the fabric vibrate yet again - a low, odd pulse. Something was coming. But the young boy had no clue.
Outside in the storm, the man gripped a thick, broken branch that dislodged from a tree. His expression shifted into a weird blend of drunken brave and sudden, desperate courage. What had been a stick became a spear as he pointed it directly at the faceless creature before him, charging into it with a hoarse battle cry.
"You think you're gonna take us, monster?! Not while I am standin' here!" the man shouted at the creature.
The sound of his words barely made it to the market through the pouring rain, but it was enough for the group of people inside to know that their feelings sank.
The man was pointing the branch at the faceless creature, yelling as the rain continued to beat down.
"You think you can make us fearful, huh?!" he shouted in the rain, though his voice cracked, he was loud. "I've seen uglier things in the night than you! I am not dyin' on my knees, you hear me?!"
The people winced as his voice cut through the countryside like a bullet. The woman by the window muttered, "Idiot..."
But the man still wasn't finished. He took a dubious step forward.
"I don't care what you are! I'll shove this stick in your damned head if it kills me! You can't take us all! Not tonight!"
He swayed closer, the rain cascading from his face. "I've lost friends to monsters like you before... but it ain't gonna happen to these people! You hear me?!!" He beat his chest with a fist, inadvertently releasing the empty beer bottle he had forgotten in his hand. "What do I got to lose anyway?!"
Nathan's throat choked as the man broke into a raspy laugh, the kind that sounded half insane, half courageous.
"You might take me, freak... but I'll put a splinter in your cursed body first!"
Inside, the old merchant clenched his jaw.
"...That fool has guts," he murmured.
Another man said, "Guts? He's drunk!"
The merchant sighed. His eyes still fixed on the window.
"Maybe... although it perhaps takes."
The people went quiet once again, all of them watching through the smeared window, the man raised the stick like a spear and charged into the storm.
Nathan's medallion pulsed again against his chest - a strange alert.
And the faceless figure waited.
The drunk man's boots plopped through the muddy road, fingers gripping the thick branch tightly, and once more, he bellowed through the rain.
"For my family... for this town... and anyone left this world, they may not be tolerated by you!"
The faceless figure remained stood, it's empty head rotated slightly like a creature studying a foolish charge. The rain puddled and dripped off its pale, faceless head.
Then, without waiting, it began to move. It was a strange, quick pace, not quite running, but reducing the distance too forthwith. The long, slim arm reached out to the side, and the hand formed again like the metal warped into a monstrous shape and twisted to become a long, sharp jagged blade.
Inside, the woman at the window clutched her mouth.
"He's really gonna do it..."
The old merchant grunted. "Just watch."
With a final, desperate scream, the man pushed the makeshift spear forward with all the strength he could muster.
What followed was beyond human reaction. In one fluid, malicious motion, the faceless creature slipped to the side and thrust its bladed hand through the man's chest.
The crack of bone could be heard over the sound of the howling storm.
The motion pull out the man's body backwards, and his mouth fell open in shock, blood mixed with rain on his chin. He let the stick slip from his weakening grip. But, even as he felt the life drain from his body, his lips were moving in a breathless whisper.
"Hope you choke... on my curse... you ugly bastard..."
Then it lifted him from the ground without effort, and his body twitched once before becoming motionless.
A collective gasp escaped the crowd inside the market. One of the children cried softly, hiding behind the skirt of a woman.
Nathan's eyes went wide with horror, his stomach knotted as he watched the entire scene continue outside, and settled into his memory forever. Obscured by a cloak, the faceless creature twitched its head to the side, then simply tossed the dead man aside like a rag doll, letting it drop into the mud next to the other corpse.
Nathan took a step back, trembling, his small hands clutching the stone floor for balance. The medallion under his tunic pulsed again - stronger this time - as if something, somewhere was trying to protect him.
But Nathan did not notice. His head was walking with thoughts of the one lifeless body laying outside, the terrible emptiness of the creature's face, and how death had come without any mercy.
The old merchant muttered grimly, "Poor fool."
The market fell silent after that. All anyone could hear was the rain, the thunder in the distance, and the haunting visual of a waking nightmare outside their door.
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Hours had passed since midday, but the rain showed no signs of stopping.
Not in the small village market where Nathan and the rest were still staying in fear ...
Not in the great Atlon Kingdom, whose towering walls and proud banners could also do nothing to hold back the storm's constant downpour.
The storm had already reached them.
Thunder rumbled across the castle's roof, like distant war drums. The wind howled through the streets, rattled shutters, and bent tall, old trees. Rain slapped against the stained glass windows of Atlon Castle. The glass became streaked with swept water as thick, grey clouds filled the sky.
Below, in the training ground, knights no longer practiced their formations and drills. They worked quickly in preparation for what was to come. The Atlon messenger, who had warned the council room about the watch post messenger in the village, had reported something far worse than a storm was in the near vicinity.
Voices shouted through the rain.
"Move, lads! Hurry up, gather them supplies!"
"Get those pikes tied down! You, move yonder crates inside!" voices continued shouted through the storm.
"Grab the spears and the bows!"
"We need more lanterns!"
Knights raced down the wide stairways into the lower basement to gather the combat bags, swords, gear, and anything else they would need. They weren't going to make the same mistake they had long ago, when Atlon was not ready and many lives were lost.
In one of the large basement bedroom, Tomas was still sitting quietly on his bed. He was pale and expressionless, and his mind was still lingered from this morning's nightmares. He had just been warned for almost killing a fellow knight in his rage, and even now with the sounds of the call to arms ringing outside, he felt weighed down by guilt.
Some knights rushed into the room, grabbing their gear, quickly repacking their stuff. Among them was Kellin, who saw Tomas sitting alone staring blankly at the locket in his hand.
"Hey, Tomas... you alright, lad?" Kellin asked and walked over to him.
"Yeah,..." Tomas responded but his face said otherwise.
Kellin flashed a small grin in an attempt to lighten his mood. "Come on, lad. We've got a lot of work to do. Forget it happened, it's nothing. Eren is waiting for you right outside."
Tomas looked up at him with dull eyes. "What do you mean nothing? I almost killed Garran over my stupidity."
"There's no such thing as a foolish mind when you're one of us," Kellin said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "We're a team. We always stick together, right?"
Tomas let out a short sigh, then gave a faint, knowing smile. "Yeah... I know, lad." He finally stood, gripping Kellin's hand tight. "I know what we're up against."
"That's what I like to hear. No back down," Kellin grinned.
"No back down," Tomas repeated with a steadying voice.
A knight burst into the room and yelled, "Come on brothers, time to move! Sir Varun called us to assemble!"
"Understood!" another knight yelled back.
Tomas, Kellin, and others quickly scooped up their gear, bolted up the basement stairs, and headed to the castle yard.
Their boots slamming on the stone floor when they arrived.
The rain still fell in solid sheets and soaked them within seconds.
On the grounds, the soldiers carried on despite the storm, shouting across to one another.
"Line up! Get in line!" a sergeant yelled through the rain.
"Get those bows put away!"
"Lanterns! Over here!"
"Get your squads lined up!"
All the while, Varun was yelling above them, louder and clearer than anyone else.
"Hey, guys, over here!" Eren called, waving from near to barracks.
Kellin spotted him and ran over followed closely by Tomas.
"You guys made it! Bad things are coming, we have to be ready," Eren said, out of breath due to the cold, heavy rain.
"I'm aware," Tomas said, his face calm.
"You sure you're alright lad?" Eren asked, remembering Tomas storming off of the training yard earlier.
"Don't worry about it," Tomas said, managing a smile.
"Alright then, let's get our gear packed up before we have to hear Varun shout us again," Kellin said with a grin already stuffing supplies into his combat bag and slinging his bow over his shoulder.
The two started to follow suit grabbing supplies.
Then Varun's voice echoed through the rain again, he was calling attention to all the squads.
"Listen up!"
The knighthood stopped what they were doing and turned to face him.
"All of the plans are set in place, but the most important thing right now is to be ready and monitor the outside walls. If any strange occurrence happens, the archers above will fire a single arrow with flame, that will be our Signalling. Fight or fall back. And lastly we're doing 5 man squad. Is that clear?"
Then a few murmurs of unease.
And a young knight at the back said, "What...?"
Varun caught it and raised his voice even more.
"It means we will be breaking into squads of five! Positions through the trees and thick bushes behind the north wall, covering the trees and covering the outside flanks. We all know the middle path is settled with traps. If it moves, you will know! And none of you are to move from your squads for any reason. Hold your position, is that clear?!"
"YES, SIR!" the soldiers shouted, everyone saluting. The rain nearly covered the sound of their voices.
"That's what I like to hear. Now, move to your positions outside!"
The knights nodded and began sprinting to the outer gate of the castle and started forming squads of five. Their boots splashed through puddles of mud as they rushed to the soaked and tall outer walls.
But before Tomas and his group could join in on the pursuit, Eren noticed something.
"Wait, we are missing two."
Tomas and Kellin stopped, but the rest continued to bolt by them.
A knight clapped Eren on the shoulder as he ran past. "I'm here."
It was Jarek, the spearman, who'd heard the plans spoken the previous evening.
"Stop standing there and thinking. Meet me at the main gates!" Jarek shouted as he continued to run.
"Right," Tomas nodded.
"But that's four," Eren said. "We still need one." Eren looked around, but all the knights already had their own squad.
Varun noticed as they were standing around.
"What's the hold up?" Varun asked, stopping between Kellin and Eren.
"Sir, we need one more," Eren saluted.
Varun didn't think, instead he turned and called, "Ellis! Get over here!"
A young scout made his way over through the rain.
"But sir, what about you?" Eren asked.
"I'll be on that hill," Varun pointed out beyond the walls, "making indications so you'll know when to fight or when to back off. No arguing."
"Yes Sir," Eren nodded.
"Sir?" Ellis saluted as he arrived.
"You are with Tomas' squad now," Varun replied. "You will act as scout whenever need be."
"But... you sir?"
"Stop asking questions. I'll be fine," Varun said, clapping Ellis' shoulder.
"Now go."
"Alright... let's go," Tomas urged.
"Right. Good luck out there squad," Varun stepped back.
"Pleasure running with you brothers," Ellis grinned as they ran for the castle gates.
"Same," Tomas said, tiredly focused.
The four nodded and started running through the castle gates. The two spearmen stationed there saluted as they passed.
"Good luck, squads," one of the spearmen said, saluting them.
"You too," Ellis shouted back.
The four pulled up to hurried down the grassy hill.
As they ran down the hill away from the gates, they passed the village where Nathan was, far in the distance, without any of them knowing it. They had no other task except to meet Jarek at the main gates, and to scout and ready for whatever was lurking in darkness to this storm.
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Meanwhile, inside the castle...
Above the wet grounds of the kingdom, on the top balcony, was, Fred. Silent and worried. The endless rain only blurred the near distance, however it wasn't the storm outside that worried him most, it was Nathan.
He gripped the cold railing, scarcely his grip compared to how heavy his soul felt.
"I shouldn't have let that boy slip away when the knights took off," Fred muttered, barely above a whisper. "I should keep an eye on him, I should followed after him."
Letting out a long sigh, he turned away from the balcony.
"I can't leave this to chance. I'm not letting that kid out of my sight. Rhea will scold me if my job gets failure."
Without wasting another second, Fred headed for the royal staircase, making his way down to gather his cloak, sword, and whatever he needed for the search.
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Up high on the castle roofs...
The storm continued to blow. Wind whispered over rooftops, rain tapping against glinting stone and tile. But on those rooftops, the kingdom's soldiers was ready.
On the southern roof, four musketeers covered behind the low walls of stone, checking their powder and keeping their rifles dry under their cloaks.
On the north roof, four archers quietly prepared their bows, each one of which had a single arrow reserved, its point covered in oiled cloth, ready to be ignited for a signal when necessary.
They did not talk much. Only the patter of the storm filled the atmosphere.
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Down back to the ground...
The squads dashed quickly through the rain-soaked ground, going into their five-man teams as commanded.
Tomas, Kellin, Eren, and Ellis arrived at the kingdom's main gates, seeing Jarek already standing there, spear in hand.
"About time," Jarek called above the storm as he clapped Tomas firmly on the shoulder.
"We're here now, don't you think?" Kellin grinned, water running from his wet hair.
"No time for talk," Eren interrupted, readjusting the strap on his pack. "Let's move."
The team did not stop long. The four speartons standing watch at the great wooden gates and swung them open wide enough for the squads to go out, and the five of them dashed out into the storm on the other side of the kingdom walls.
As they sprinted down the muddy road and toward the dispersed line of trees beyond the outer walls, their low speech blended with the wind and rain.
"This storm's cursed, I'm telling you," Ellis spoke up, his voice uneasy as he covered his face with one arm. "It ain't right."
"Yeah, well, we're still breathing, aren't we?" Kellin answered, giving him a quick nudge. "Worse storms than this back in the old days."
"I don't know..." Eren muttered, scanning the treeline ahead. "It feels like something's waiting out there."
Tomas, still calm-faced, finally spoke. "Doesn't matter what's waiting. Orders are orders. Keep sharp eyes and no one breaks the formation."
"Sure," Jarek agreed with a grunt. "We'll cover each other's backs."
"Same as always," Kellin nodded.
Their boots splashed through puddles and soft mud, the storm drowning out all but their closest voices. The kingdom behind them was already fading in the downpour, and ahead of them lay the unknown.
But the five of them - wet, cold, and soaked with rain - made their way into the gray, unfriendly world outside the walls.
Outside the kingdom walls...
The five-member group pushed through the dense rain, moving towards the west edge of the trees as they had planned. The way was short, full of muddy puddles and twisted roots winding along the ground. The wind shoved them from all directions, carrying the sharp smell of wet ground and wood.
Tomas took the lead, holding a small compass in his gloved fingers. Its needle flickered occasionally, but largely remained pointed straight forward.
"West. Keep to the west," he reminded himself.
Behind him came Kellin, Eren, Ellis, and Jarek, each spaced a few steps out but close enough to reach out and grab if something went wrong.
The trees in front of them were tall and black, their branches sweep like grasping claws towards the turbulent sky. The further they stepped, the farther away the kingdom's sounds grew, drowned out by the constant patter of rain and the creaking of old trees.
They came to the border of the forest and slowed their steps.
"Form up," Tomas softly called out.
The team crouched together for a moment, hiding behind a thick fallen tree. Water dripped down its green mossy side.
"This is our scouting line, see?" Tomas said, looking at the compass once more. "We stay to the west. If anything goes across the middle line of the compass, we signal. Got it?"
The others nodded shortly.
Ellis gazed around. "It's too quiet out here."
Eren let out a low, dry laugh. "It's a storm, Ellis. Everything's hiding."
Ellis, his hand tight on his short blade, shook his head. "No... not everything. I sense something, too. Something's wrong."
Jarek said nothing, only grunting slightly as he shifted his spear.
Tomas looked around, observing the quivering branches and the massive sheets of rain. But outside of the weather, there was no movement.
"Keep your minds about you," Tomas instructed. "It's merely the storm controlling your nerves."
They resumed their advance, strung out in a narrow line along the western edge of the woods. Every man watched the middle line of their small compass. So far - nothing. Only heavy rain.
The creepy part was how nothing else cracked a noise. No birds, no animals, not even the normal leaf rustling from small creatures. It was as if the entire world was holding its breath.
Occasionally, one of them would look over their shoulder at the kingdom walls in the distance, just discernible in the rain.
Hours went by like that. Steady steps. Quiet checks. Steadfast compasses. The storm never let up, and the cold seeped deeper into their wet clothing.
Kellin made a low remark sometime later. "I swear, when we make it back, first thing I'm gonna do is getting drunk on a beer."
"You can hardly down one cup," Ellis joked, smiling in spite of the tension.
"Watch yourself, Ellis. Or I'll send you swimming in the mud." Kellin replied.
Eren chuckled briefly. Even in the outside, little things like that kept their nerves stable.
Tomas focused on the compass. The needle didn't move, but his intuition warned him not to let down his guard.
"Something's not right... but nothing's here."
They pushed deeper along the west tree line, ready for anything - but still, only rain.
As they worked their way further along the west tree line, Tomas abruptly held up a hand and motioned them to stop.
The team dropped low behind a group of dense bushes. The rain continued to fall, relentless and chilly, but Tomas wasn't gazing at the clouds - he was looking at the dirt ground.
"Over here," he called softly.
The rest collected about them. In the sodden ground were partial, half-erased prints. Not from a man, nor from any known creature either. They were unrecognizable, it's a three-claws wide like a giant chicken's foot, broad at the front, thin at the heel. Whatever made them had come through some time ago, before the rain set in too hard.
Kellin's fist tightened. "What the hell is that...?"
Ellis kneeled, tracing one of the marks with his hand. "Tomas... this is what you were talking about last night, isn't it?"
Tomas nodded slightly, his expression serious. "I saw such prints nearby the north watch line before sunset, last days. I thought at first... but not like this."
Eren tightened his grip on his dagger. "Why didn't you report about it?"
"I didn't know," Tomas said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Could've been an animal... but now there's more."
Jarek stood in silence, gazing into the forest ahead.
The markings faded out, continuing further westward, into the densest group of trees.
The wind changed then, carrying a soft, bitter odor. It was difficult to find out through the rain, but it was there - something type, like decaying wood or spoiled meat.
Ellis slowly stood up straight, uncomfortable. "We pursue it?"
Tomas hesitated, then shook his head. "Not yet. We scout, not pursuing. Mark this point. We'll come back by after scouting the south marker. If we don't see anything else, we report this one."
Kellin made a worry face. "I don't want to leave it."
"Neither do I," Tomas said. "But tasks first. If it goes east or crosses over the middle line, then we slowly pursue."
The group silently indicated the place by knotting a narrow strip of cloth onto a low-lying branch, almost imperceptible in the downpour. And then, one by one, they left again, crouched and watchful, but the apprehension in their chest never stopped.
The rain gave no sign of stopping.
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Back to the castle.
Fred had packed his equipment already within his small room in the servant quarters. The faintly lit room glowed with the light of one candle, the sound of rain persistently tapping against the window above creating the silence. He pulled on his old, battered cloak, tying it into a hood, low enough to hide his face.
Without delay, Fred opened his bedroom door, looked both ways down the deserted corridor, and slipped out.
His footsteps were fast but light against the stone floor as he hurried through the thin servant corridors. Any noise - the sound of rain tapping, a far-off thunderclap, it made him jump. He was fully aware of the danger. If Commander Galen caught him sneaking out without permission, there would be a hell to pay. The King had been adamant: if Fred was caught sneaking out of the castle without due cause, Galen was to intercept him. Orders were not to be disobeyed.
But this was something that Fred could not ignore.
He climbed the side stairs, to one of the tall, thin windows that looked out across the castle's backyard. Outside, rain poured relentlessly, filling the empty walkways and wetting the darkened training grounds.
Fred opened the window with great care. It creaked softly. Cold air swept in, smelling of damp earth and rock.
Without second thought, he sat on the ledge and fell silently onto wet stone below. His cloak slapped softly against puddles, and he bent low, making for the ancient back gate - the one hardly used except in emergencies or Nathan's quiet retreat to the meadow.
But then,
voices he heard.
Carried by the wind and rain, coming from the covered stables nearby.
Fred stop, ducking behind a stack of wooden crates.
He heard Galen's voice, unmistakable in its firm, and commanding tone.
"The storm is not natural. I've felt it since nightfall," Galen said.
One of the council men then spoke, his tone lower but no less agitated. "Some of the northern scouts say the winds changed twice in under an hour. No storm blows like that. And those clouds - they haven't moved from the western hills."
Another interrupted. "Do we relocate the boy deeper into the inner chambers? Keep him under stricter guard?"
Galen growled. "The King's orders are specific - Nathan remains within, but he hears nothing of the scouts or the peculiar reports. The last we need is him going mad, or worse, sneaking out of the castle undetected."
The first man turned to speak once more. "And Fred? Restless is he. I've witnessed it. He won't remain seated when the boy's out there in harm's way."
"I know Fred," Galen sighed. "But if he leaves, it's in my head too. The King said no one leaves without permission, and if Fred so much as steps out of the line, I'm stopping him."
The councilmen fell silent for a moment, only the rain filling the space.
Then one muttered grimly, "If something's truly coming... It won't wait for permission."
Fred's jaw clenched. Each word made him more determined. He couldn't remain.
He wouldn't.
The voices fell silent, and Fred took advantage. The instant Galen waved the councilmen aside with a nod and faced the castle stairs, Fred slipped out from behind the stacks of crates.
But, it seemed, fate had other plans -
"Fred."
The single word hit like a bullet.
Fred froze where he stood, his eyes closed for an instant before he turned.
There stood Galen, rain streaming down his face, his eyes piercing.
"None of this is supposed to be happening," Galen said softly, but with authority.
Fred dropped his hood halfway. "I must go."
"You know the King's words." Galen raised his brows.
"I do." Fred breathed. "But Nathan's out there. And we both know something's not right tonight. This isn't a normal storm. I won't forgive myself if something's happened to him."
Galen's shoulders braced. "You think you're the only one concerned? The air is so heavy it's choking, the walls are thinner than they ought to be. Every human senses it. But disobeying orders won't make it right."
Fred took a step forward, voice firm. "Yeah, but, I'm responsible for that boy. Rhea trusted me. If something happens to him, it's on my head. I'm not going to stand idly by."
Another silence so long the rain tapped between them.
"You've always been a stubborn idiot," Galen growled, but his voice was softened at the edges. He rubbed a hand over his face, sighed. "Fine. I won't stop you. But listen."
He pointed toward the distant fence line. "Go up the old orchard trail behind the fence. Avoid the main streets, the squads are heading toward the outer gates. If you get caught, I won't be able to come you out again."
Fred's face relaxed, thankful. "Thanks, Commander."
"Bring that boy back here," Galen commanded. "And if you see anything strange than the storm, you report to me first. And get back here, Fred. Got it?"
"Got it."
They shared a short nod, sharp but laden with significance.
"Go."
Fred nodded once more, tugging his hood low, and then rapidly pace through the back gate, the rain rapidly saturating his form.
Galen stayed where he was for a moment longer, watching into the downpour.
"Tch..." he grumbled, before heading back towards the castle.
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Back to the village.
Rain outside hadn't let up. Heavy, unceasing, hissing against the roof of the market and nearby houses. Water ran down the wooden walls and flooded in the rough stone streets.
Within the tiny marketplace, the crowd had become silent. Some attempted to sleep after the ghastly sight of before. The old merchant sat slumped within his wooden rocking chair, chin against his chest, gently snoring. Some others lay on the chilly floor, using tattered blankets and sacks as impromptu beds. Some children were huddled against the corners, arms tightly around knees, shivering softly in the chill.
It was now about 4:30 in the afternoon.
Nathan sat on the ground beside a pile of supply boxes. Arms crossed over his knees, head on them. He had not spoken at all since before - to no one, not even himself. The boy's mind was burdened, but body exhausted. The patter of rain on the roof was the only sound he could hear now.
Eventually, Nathan's eyes slowly closed. His breathing became stable as he sank into an agitated sleep, the chill still on his body.
Nearby, a girl around his own age peeked her head out from behind the counter once again. Her hair was dark and pulled into medium twintails, and her face was soft and pale with light blue eyes. Before, her fear had leeched all color from her skin. Now, her expression still wore concern, but something softer remained - a soft innocence attempting to forget what had transpired outside.
She gazed at Nathan, observing him as he slept against the crates.
And suddenly a memory struck her heart.
(Flashback)
It was yesterday at the training field.
She recalled standing at the fence, observing the boys drilling. Nathan was drilling with his practice partner. His technique wasn't perfect, but there was something about him that caused her to observe a little more intently. Something odd - a bluish afterglow of light tracing around his torso under his tunic. Faint. Slight. Nobody else appeared to see.
She recalled her chest constricting at sight. Not fear, really... but an abiding discomfort. Something she'd never witnessed in her life.
And prior to that, as well - those instances when Nathan was bullied by the group of boys in the village. Mocked. Bullied. She wanted to step in, wanted to speak up... but every time, her voice got stuck in her throat, with shame.
Then her father's words returned to mind.
She could still recall his soothing voice that night near the fire, just days before he died.
"My daughter," he'd whispered, putting a hand on her head, "bravery doesn't necessarily involve fighting with your fists. Sometimes, it's being strong enough to stand up when your heart is telling you to do it. Don't live your life in hiding from yourself. No one's born coward, right? But some decide to remain one."
She'd never forgotten that.
(Back to the present)
She looked around the almost dim market.
Most were sleeping now. Some were curled up under tattered blankets. Others had none, such as an old woman in the corner, who shivered as she slept, her bony hands grasping at nothing.
The eyes of the little girl softened.
Silently, without saying a word, she stood up from her place. She did not sneak, merely walked quietly between bodies sleeping, not wanting to wake anyone. She looked around the market for something that could be used as a blanket.
Finally, she noticed a large piece of cloth hanging on a hook against the wall. She reached out and dusted it off, inspected whether it was clean enough.
Good enough.
She walked over to the old woman and carefully draped the cloth over her thin form. The shivering ceased at once. The face of the woman relaxed in sleep.
The little girl smiled weakly. A small act of kindness, but it counted.
Then she turned back to Nathan.
He still shivered, arms folded tightly, head bent. The rain outside had not let up.
The girl looked around again. Under the fruit stand, there was a piece of fabric folded up - but it was wet and muddy. She scrunched up her nose and left it behind.
Then, in a basket at the counter, she noticed a medium-sized towel. It wasn't wet. It wasn't too dusty. Damp but almost dry.
She grasped it, being cautious with her steps, and walked across the floor to Nathan. Tactfully, she went down beside him, pausing for an instant before draping the towel over his back.
She gently wiped his back, taking care not to awaken him.
"You'll get a fever like that, you silly," she whispered with a weak, innocent smile.
Nathan didn't move or awaken.
The girl smiled once more, slightly sadder this time, then stood and went back to the counter.
She laid her head on folded arms, blankly regarding the dim oil lamp at hand.
Her thoughts drifted again.
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.
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Flashback
She recalled the room.
The fading light of a dying fire. The slight smell of boiled herbs lingering in the air. Rain pattering softly on the window.
She was curled up next to her mother on the creaky wooden bed, her mother's hand stroking her hair gently. The woman was cold to the touch, her breathing shallow and slow - but she still had a smile.
"My dear..." her mother whispered, her voice hardly above a whisper. "Even the smallest act of kindness... can warm someone's heart."
The girl clung to her, her small hands wrapping around her mother's frail fingers.
"Listen," her mother said again, her eyes weighed down but still warm. "Would you go to the kitchen... get the herb water I left by the fire? It will be warm... it'll make me feel better."
She didn't want to leave. She wanted to linger, to have her mother's hand in her hair just a bit longer.
But her mother smiled at her softly, wearily, and said,
"Hurry, love... and remember, the world is cold, but you... you can be the warmth in someone's life."
The girl nodded, wincing back tears, and left the room.
She was gone just more than a minute.
When she returned,
the cup of herb water still warm in her hands,
her mother lay motionless against the pillows.
Eyes closed. Face peaceful. Passed on.
The room was utterly silent.
She called out. Shook her. Begged her to wake up.
But no one came.
Not for hours.
.
.
.
(Back to the present)
A tear welled in the girl's eye, but she quickly wiped it away.
"I promised I'd help people... even a little," she murmured softly, not sure if she was speaking to herself, or to her mother, or to no one.
Then, with a small, weary smile, she allowed her eyes to drop shut, her arms a pillow improvised.
The storm raged outside.
But for the moment, in that marketplace shelter, there was a flash of warmth in the cold.
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