Ronan’s heart skipped a beat. The bandit’s machete, swinging through the air was already coming down toward his neck when, whoosh! Varek appeared out of nowhere, blocked it with his sword, and with a single stroke, killed the man.
Ronan called out. "Dad." Varek didn’t even look at him. "Never get distracted in a fight again," he said.
Then he turned swiftly and charged toward the other bandits.
Aeron and Ronan froze for a second, stunned.
They had always known Varek was strong... but this? This was something else.
Varek moved like a warrior from the ancient tales. He was swift, ruthless, and precise with his sword. One clean stroke per enemy. Five moves. Five bodies dropped. The sound of his sword slicing through them was sharp. Not once did he miss. Not once did he flinch.
The boys just stared, with their slack jaws.
"Mr Varek..." Aeron whispered.
"I didn’t even know he had a sword," Ronan muttered. "I’ve never seen him fight."
Varek turned to them, breathing heavy but steady.
"You two okay?" he asked.
They didn’t respond. Not because they didn’t want to, but because they couldn’t. They were still in shock.
Then the noise came. First faint, then it became clearer... Shouts and screams. The sound of crackling fire.
It was coming from the direction of the village.
Varek looked in that direction and narrowed his eyes. "We need to go. Now!"
They ran.
As they entered the village, a wave of heat hit them. The air was thick with smoke. Huts were burning, and some had already collapsed. People were running, screaming, and hiding behind barrels and walls. The streets were full of chaos.
And then, they saw them.
Bandits. Everywhere. Dozens of them. They were armed and moved angrily. Looting, burning, and dragging people by their clothes and hair. They were the same group from before, but now much Larger in number. And much more vicious.
Varek couldn’t believe his eyes, but he couldn’t waste time either, he had to get to his home. Just then, he clenched his fists and his knuckles turned white as he walked forward, straight into the heart of the madness as his house was at the far end. His blade was very busy, striking the enemies and every bandit that came near him, he took them down without hesitation. Strike. Step. Slash. Spin. Each move was smooth and clean.
"Stay close!" he yelled at the boys, but Aeron wasn’t listening.
He had only one thought in his mind: his Mother. He had to find her. He has to make sure she’s okay and not hurt.
"Aeron!" Ronan called after him, but it was too late.
Aeron ran through the chaos, dodging the falling carts and pushing away villagers that are frightened while yelling at the top of his lungs.
"MOTHER! MOTHER!!"
He reached the far end of his street, turned to face their compound, and his heart sank.
There she was, lying on the ground. Her dress was torn and blood trickled down from her arm. Her eyes were half-open, on the verge of passing out.
Beside her, a large bandit with some scars on his face stood and raised a heavy hammer above his head, aiming it straight for her skull.
Aeron saw that and screamed.
"MOOOOOOM!!! NOOOO!"
In that moment, something in him broke. Or maybe something in him woke up.
Because just as the hammer began to fall...
FWOOSH!!!
A wave of fire erupted all around the village. It exploded like a bomb placed in different directions, from the already existing fire that was burning. For a moment, the whole village glowed brighter and hotter.
The villagers became more scared. Even the bandits froze. What was that?
One of the bandits, with eyes wide in terror, shouted. "Witchcraft!"
Another stumbled backward, gripping his stolen bag tightly. "These people are witches! I swear it, did you see that fire?"
Panic spread through their ranks. The fear on their faces was very obvious and just within seconds, they all turned and ran. Some dropped what they looted along the way, but many others held on to whatever valuables they could manage. Their retreat was fast and full of fear. In just moments, because of one incident, the once violent bandits were gone, leaving the village behind in black smoke. Injured villagers were crying in pain.
But despite the danger being gone, the village wasn’t calm. In fact, a deeper fear began to settle in, and this one had nothing to do with the bandits. It was the fire. That strange fire.
The villagers whispered. They stared at the burnt ground. Some looked up at the sky as if they were expecting something to descend.
No one said it out loud at first, but they all felt it. That fire wasn’t natural.
Elarya stood silently, her arms still wrapped tightly around Aeron, who had collapsed into her chest moments after the strange eruption. His face was pale and his hands were still shaking. But she held him like her life depended on it. Her eyes were wide with fear, not of her son, but of what she had just witnessed.
She felt it. The moment the fire exploded... it was right after Aeron screamed. A mother knows. She knew that fire had something to do with him. She didn’t understand how, but her heart told her it was true even though she didn’t want to believe it.
And then there was Ronan. Standing just a few feet away, hands on his head, looking from Aeron to the burning houses, to the villagers who had now started to gather. He had seen something earlier in the forest too, something strange when Aeron panicked. But now, it was undeniable.
"What... are you?" Ronan muttered to himself, barely loud enough to hear.
The murmuring in the crowd grew louder.
One elderly man whose head was wrapped in blood-soaked cloth stepped forward with a limp. His eyes scanned through the people and then fixed on the spot where Aeron had stood before Elarya pulled him inside.
"There is a witch among us," he said loudly.
Gasps followed his words.
"We all saw what happened. That fire didn’t come from wood or oil. It came out of nowhere. This village has been cursed," he continued as his voice was trembling with fear and anger. "If we don’t find out who it is, we all will suffer. The gods will abandon us and the Earth will turn on us. This is a very bad omen!"
The crowd began to murmur in agreement. Their fear quickly turned into suspicion. Mothers clutched their children and some men reached for their tools.
Meanwhile, inside their small hut, Elarya pulled Aeron closer. Her hands were shaking. Everything in her told her. That fire came from her son, but she denied it. She didn’t want to believe it.
She didn’t want to imagine what would happen if it were true. What the villagers would do to her son. The kind of future that would follow it. Then she remembered how they ended up here in the first place. All that has happened and what made her leave her home.
She wept bitterly.