Thump!
Thump!
Thump!
Caelum's heart hammered inside his tiny chest as he tore through the dense dark forest. Twigs snapped under his bare feet, and the cold air scratched his throat with every gasping breath. His legs ached from running but he didn't dare slow down. If he did , if he stumbled even once, the men chasing him will catch up, and he knows what would happen then.
He didn't want to die. He was only five years old. He hadn't even seen the wide rivers yet or the silver towers his mother used to tell him about. He didn't want it all to end here, in a cold nameless forest.
Behind him, the heavy pounding of boots grew louder. They were getting closer. The undergrowth wasn't enough to hide him, the trees weren't thick enough to protect him. His only advantage was the small head start he had gained.
But head starts didn't last forever.
"Run faster! I have eyes on him!" a gruff voice roared behind him.
It was the man with the thick black moustache. Caelum didn't know his name, but he would never forget his face. The cold hard eyes and the cruel smile.
The other men responded with grunts, quickening their pace, crashing through the woods like wild beasts. Caelum could hear them now — the snapping branches, the labored breathing, the metal of swords clinking against armor.
Fear pushed Caelum forward, made his legs move even when they wanted to collapse. Tears blurred his vision. His small hands clawed at vines and low branches, pulling himself onward. But deep down, he knew there was no outrunning grown men. Not for someone his size.
One of the men stopped suddenly. Caelum didn't see it, but he heard the scrape of metal — a weapon being drawn.
It was Oryn, a large man with cruel grey eyes. He slid the long spear from his back, steadying it in his calloused hands. He squinted at the little figure darting clumsily through the trees. To him, Caelum wasn't a boy anymore. He was a target. A problem that needed to be solved quickly.
Oryn took a breath and hurled the spear with all his strength.
Another man nearby saw it and shouted, "Oryn! Are you crazy?! That's gonna kill him!!"
The man stopped running, horror flashing across his face.
"The mission was to bring him dead or alive," Oryn barked back, his voice cold and careless. "I don't care about some stupid kid. The price is too much to lose."
The spear flew, cutting through the air with a deadly whistle. Caelum, without knowing why, turned his head back at that moment. His wide eyes caught a glimpse of the gleaming tip slicing towards him.
Time slowed down. His body reacted before his mind could. His foot caught a root. He stumbled and crashed to the ground, a mess of dirt and limbs.
The spear struck the ground inches from his face. He could feel the cold kiss of the metal against his cheek, so close it almost burned.
He lay there frozen, too terrified to move. Dust filled his nose. His heart roared in his ears.
Footsteps thundered closer. When he lifted his head, he saw them — seven men, standing over him, forming a tight circle. Their swords dripped with fresh blood, and their faces were carved with expressions of grim purpose.
"You little adventure ends here kid," Oryn said, sneering down at him. His sword lifted high into the air, catching the weak rays of the sun.
Caelum squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the blade to fall.
----
Thirty minutes ago.
Thump!
Thump!
Thump!
Caelum's heart raced just as wildly, but for a very different reason.
He tore down the dusty street of his village, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. His clothes were covered in dust from the day's games, brown stains smudging the knees of his trousers and the elbows of his shirt.
Two boys chased after him, their faces grinning with the joy of the hunt. They were his best friends — Theo and Bram — older by a year, and twice as fast. Still, Caelum tried his best. His tiny legs pumped furiously as he ducked between market stalls, darted around corners, and scrambled over crates of fruit left out by merchants.
"Get him! Don't let him get away!" Bram shouted, laughing.
Theo was faster. He closed the distance quickly. Caelum pushed himself harder, arms flailing wildly. For a moment he thought he might actually escape. His heart soared.
But then his foot slipped on a patch of loose dirt. He yelped as he tumbled forward, landing hard on his stomach.
Before he could even push himself up, Theo and Bram pounced on him, giggling like mad.
"You're a loser Caelum!" Theo crowed as he helped pull him to his feet. "We caught you so fast!"
Caelum tried to scowl, but he ended up laughing too. His ribs ached from how hard he was breathing.
The marketplace buzzed around them — the warm smells of baked bread, roasting meat and sweet fruits filling the air.
Caelum looked up at the sky, watching as the sun slowly dipped lower towards the jagged hills on the edge of the village. It burned a deep orange, spilling long shadows over the dusty streets and rooftops. His heart sank a little. His father would beat the hell out of him if he didn't get home before the sun finished setting.
He knew that for sure. His dad didn't make empty threats.
"See you guys tomorrow!" Caelum called out hurriedly, waving a dusty hand at Theo and Bram.
"Yeah, run along before old Corvin skins you!" Theo teased, laughing.
Bram just chuckled and ruffled Caelum's hair as he passed. "Better hurry, loser!"
Caelum grinned despite himself and turned, legs already moving. He sprinted down the winding path that led to his house, the familiar fields blurring past him. His tiny feet kicked up small clouds of dust with every frantic step. His chest burned but he didn't dare slow down.
When he finally reached the small house, sweat dripped off him like rain. He wiped his dirty face with the sleeve of his shirt, breathing so hard it hurt his ribs. The wooden door stood closed, quiet, the windows dark behind the fading sunlight.
But then he heard it — noises, loud and violent, coming from inside the house.
He froze.
And then he saw it.
The door slammed open with a crack. A man — no, what was left of a man — flew out through the doorway. His body hit the dirt hard, skidding to a stop in a spray of dust. His head was missing, just a stump of a neck where it should have been. Blood gushed out, dark and thick and ugly.
Caelum's entire body went cold. A scream tried to claw its way out of his throat but no sound came. Instinct made him drop low and crawl behind a large rock a few feet from the house. He pressed his body against the stone, heart hammering so hard it hurt.
Tears welled in his eyes but he dared not move. He dared not even breathe too loud.
Through the cracks between the rocks, he saw his father step outside.
Corvin looked like a man who had already fought through death itself. His body was slashed and bleeding everywhere, his clothes soaked in crimson. His hand gripped a heavy sword, the blade dripping fresh blood that hit the dirt with soft plops.
Seven men stood around him, forming a loose circle. They wore dark leather armor. Their swords gleamed in the dim light.
Caelum felt a whimper rise in his throat but he bit it back. He watched, paralyzed by fear.
He shifted slightly and caught a glimpse inside the house through the open doorway.
A hand. A woman's hand lying limply on the floor, blood pooling all around it.
His mother.
His mother was dead.
Caelum's tiny fists clenched tightly against the ground, fingernails digging into the earth. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to stop himself from crying out.
One of the men stepped forward. His voice was low and cruel. "Where is the little boy, Corvin? You can't hide him forever."
Corvin's eyes, fierce and proud even now, didn't flinch. He stood tall, blood streaming down his face and arms. He raised his sword once more, even though he was shaking slightly.
With a roar, Corvin charged at the nearest man.
But it was no good.
The man laughed coldly, easily sidestepping the attack. He lashed out with a brutal kick, sending Corvin sprawling into the dirt.
Before Corvin could rise, a heavy boot pinned him down. A sword pressed against the side of his neck, drawing a thin line of blood.
"For the last time," the man said, voice like stone, "where is your son?"
Corvin, breathing hard, lifted his head slightly. His mouth twisted into a bloody grin.
"To hell with you!" he spat, his teeth stained red.
The man's eyes narrowed with anger. He raised his sword, ready to finish it.
And then —
Thunk!
A stone struck the side of his helmet with a sharp crack.
The man staggered, blinking in shock, and turned.
There, standing a few feet away, was Caelum.
He was trembling from head to toe, but his face was fierce, wild with desperation. His hand was already reaching for another stone from the ground.
But he didn't throw it.
He did the only thing he could think of — he turned and ran.
Caelum's legs moved before he even realized it. He ran harder than he ever had before, heart exploding in his chest. He was five but he wasn't stupid. He knew if the men saw him they would forget about his father and come after him instead.
Behind him he heard the angry shouts, the boots thundering against the earth.
But he didn't look back.
He just ran.