The forest of the north was perilous, he hardly kept himself on his feet. Determined to escape from the shadows that chased him. Alas what was the strength of a child against a foe more powerful than him. He sometimes look behind with caution yet no one was there, but the feeling of being chased by the hunters lingers in his mind and heart.
The beating heart inside him grew more and more as he move away from his home, his mind was in great fear of what would happen to his parents who told him to run towards the safety of Blackhall. The fortress that stood on the cursed marshes of Northern Erdania which was avoided by the locals of the north due to the myths and stories that resides within its walls. But run he did, even as his strength and stamina wanes, he run. Always running and determined not to stop until he arrives at the fortress.
After a great distance, a clearing was finally in sight and sighed he did in relief. The marshes was there but foggy it was and barely nothing in sight except few meters of the marshes where the scent of danger lingers in the air. His instinct told him but his fatigue grew worse. He decides to take a rest near a fallen log right near the marshes, But rest was not an option for an arrow suddenly flew right beside his head. It struck deeply on the log and the shock of it urged him to move his leg and hid behind the log. Leaf rustling and twigs breaking were heard, movement in within the woods and like shadows they moved. He looked behind where the marshes lies and from afar, as the fog moves away, it illuminates the great Castle of Blackhall standing tall right in the middle of that cursed marshes.
His thought dwells on what lies on the marshes, the fear of stories and myth that resides within, the fatigue that burdens him, the thought of the arrow that was shot from nowhere and almost got him. How death's kiss was almost befell upon him. Yet his mind didn't waver for he...
'I have to survive, no matter what.' Thought the Child and move on he did despite the burden he had to carry, towards the fog and the marshes.
He took his steps carefully, determining which was solid ground or not while increasing his pace. He instinctively move like a cat that jumps from one spot to the other. But so does the hunters for another arrow was shot, fortunateky it missed him but marks that the enemy grew closer. So he increased his pace more and more, ignoring which is which, until he miss his step and sunk to the marshes.
He struggled and struggled, trying to find something to pull him up. His hand tried to reach the ground, gasping for air his lungs did, yet sunk more he did as he struggled more. But as his head sunk he, either he was lucky or had god's graces, had found something to grab on suddenly and so he pulled it hard until he jumps out of the marsh. He controlled his breath, coughing up the mud that entered his mouth and stood up again.
He was safe and sighing in relief he did.
But, even i the narrator was too quick to judge. For another arrow had flew and hit right on the child's shoulder. The strength of the arrow threw him to the air and the pain seeps in after he hit the ground. The arrow broke as he landed and wailed in pain he did. He tried to kept moving and realized that there was no path and only a deep moat that is hidden by the fog. His eyes look to the above and a wall stretch high and far. Black as the void and tall like any he had ever seen.
"Blackhall... I made it... Father." He dropped to the ground and looked to the walls, sighed and smile in relief he did. He closed his eyes even as his pain grew even more. Then footsteps come, it was heard. Silent yet heard by him. His senses tingling and instinct had told him to run yet he cannot. He knew those steps belongs to the hunters and in sight he was.
One of them approached him, he knew by the steps of his foot that is silent like a northern saber tiger.
He spoke, the hunter did. In a language he doesn't recognized but he knew one thing. The child is going to die and there is nothing he can do about it. He now stood right above the child with bow sheathed and his knife in hand. He kneeled and pray to the gods as if he was an offering. He raised his knife then and when he was about to attack, suddenly he was thrown away and his knife fell beside him.
The child wakes himself from the ground, trying to find where the hunter was. He was impaled with a spear on his throat. His expression of near death was endearing and frightening yet he woke from it, hunters were the strongest foe known to the northerners. Then from the fog behind the hunter came a man clad in black armor with a sword drawn. The black armoured man kicked his body down and fell to the ground the hunter did. His heavy feet stomped the hunter's head hard. The hunter now lies defenseless with boots above his head. The hunter muttered words of mockery which the child knew from his voice tone.
The black armoured man replied his words with the same language and crushed his skull. The hunter was dead and the child thought he was safe, he sighed in relief yet the Black armoured man drew and point his sword to him. The child became frightened of what he thought was his savior.
He saw the black armoured man came upon him quickly and when he was about to move, another hunter had suddenly stood behind him and took the child prisoner.
"Let me go, o banished ones!" The hunter spoke in the tongue the child had knew, his knife was drawn to the child's throat.
"Let the child go." Said the Black ones, his sword was sheathed. "Or die."
"So will the child! You kill me i slice his throat!" The Hunter laughed.
"You are in no position to argue. You. Hunter. Are in our territory, let alone near our wall. Let go of the child or die."
The Hunter was determined that he won't let go the child, based on how his knife tightened up on the Child's throat.
The black armoured man then opened his helmet, showing a young figure of a man and not of an old veteran or scarred. He then whistled. A shot was fired so loud that it echoed in the air and the Hunter was suddenly flung and sunk to the marshes and the child was confused and relieved. But the pain seeps in and fell the child did with neither thoughts of the enemy and his savior. But, the armoured man went towards him and carried him up. Then from the fogs came more black armoured man and the one that carries the child gave orders to sweep the marshes of other hunters. Then the child muttered.
"Village... Burning... Blackhall... Help... Mother... Father... Help..."
"Its all right, you will be fine. You are with us now. Hang on, kid! Just hang on!"
The child closed his eyes and pray that he wasn't too late to safe his village.