Outside's view was one that could drive even the strongest men insane. The village, once a peaceful cradle of laughter, stood drenched in silence and blood. Bodies laid dead across the soil, twisted in wounds. Some clutched their loved ones in their final moments, their hands still locked together in a futile promise of survival.
Children, with wide terrified eyes, were among them. The elderly, the parents, the newlyweds, the blacksmith and the farmer—no one had been spared by the merciless wrath of the Torkes. Flies buzzed in the thick air. The metallic scent of blood mixed with the burnt residue of cursed magic hung heavy, suffocating. As for the Torkes, only their ashes remain as they couldn't survive the sunlight. The curse created an entry passage for them but not an exit one.
Derek stood beside Eamon, staring blankly at the massacre. His lips trembled as he spoke.
"I am so sorry, Eamon... I could hear their screams, I really could. But... I was so afraid. My body wouldn't move. And when I finally tried to go out, to help, I... I fainted. I should have done something. I should have fought. But I couldn't."
Eamon, still pale from his earlier collapse, placed a hand on Derek's shoulder. His voice was low and ragged.
"It's okay, Derek. You think I don't feel the same? I fainted too. I couldn't do anything either. We were just two men, trapped in the middle of something far beyond our imaginations. And I hate myself for it. I hate this feeling... of being useless. But what can we do now except carry it with us?"
Derek looked away, shame burning in his chest. "We don't have much time, Eamon."
Eamon turned toward him. "What do you mean?"
"The town council... They'll come here when they hear of this massacre. They'll arrest you. You have to leave. Go to that man's house—the one your grandfather told you about. The one in Verdelane Forest."
Eamon clenched his fists. "You're right. But first, Derek... I need to know. Is that bastard Kern among the dead? Or did he escape."
Derek scanned the bloodied field, carefully checking every face. He shook his head. "No Eamon. I don't see him."
Suddenly, a faint cough caught their attention. One of the men among the corpses moved slightly, groaning in pain.
"Someone's alive!" Derek shouted.
Both men rushed toward the figure. Eamon knelt beside him, lifting his head gently.
"Hey! Are you okay? Can you hear me?"
Derek recognized him, his eyes narrowing. "I know this guy. He was one of Kern's men. He was there when I took my child there."
Eamon leaned closer. "Hey, answer me. Where is Kern? Did he survive? Did he run? Tell me!"
The man choked on his own blood, but managed to speak. "He... he asked us to cover for him... said he'd bring backup. But... he ran. Left us to die. That coward... he betrayed us, the villagers, everyone... I'm sorry... for your grandfather..."
With those final words, his breath ceased. Eamon slowly lowered the man's head onto the ground, his heart now a storm of rage.
He stood up, face tight with fury, and turned toward the direction of the town.
"Eamon! Stop! Where are you going?!" Derek shouted.
Eamon didn't even look back. "I'm going to kill Kern. That bastard murdered my grandfather. He murdered these villagers. He'll pay. I'll make his death the most painful mankind has ever seen."
Derek stepped in front of him. "I understand your anger, but you can't go to the town now. After everything that happened, the councilmen might believe you're the enemy. Knowing Kern, he probably already ran back and blamed this entire massacre on you. And look around, Eamon. Look at the bodies. This isn't a minor tragedy. The royal army will get involved. They won't ask questions. They'll just take you. Or worse. They'll kill you."
Eamon's voice cracked, filled with despair and rage. "So what?! You want me to let that murderer go? Would you have done the same if he had killed your family? Huh, Derek?! Tell me!"
Derek flinched; his eyes shadowed. "No... I wouldn't have. But that's not the point. Your grandfather's last wish was for you to live. To break the curse. To survive. He wanted you to live, not die at the hands of the army."
He continued, "Do the last rites for him. Then go to Verdelane Forest. Save yourself, and fulfil his wish. You need to live, Eamon. That's the only way you can ever fight back."
Eamon stared at Derek, breathing heavily. Slowly, the rage in his eyes dimmed, replaced by reluctant understanding. He realised what Derek was saying was correct.
Just then, the sound of horses and boots echoed from the distance. A group was approaching—likely the town's scouts or investigators. The clanging of armor signaled their closeness.
"We don't have much time," Derek muttered. "You need to leave Eamon. Now."
Eamon nodded and they rushed back into the house. Inside, Eamon ran to the hidden room. He gathered all the scripts, sealed scrolls, and potion vials. He picked up every book his grandfather owned, stuffing them into a leather bag. he also took some money with him. Then he returned to the main room and saw his grandfather's lifeless body.
He knelt beside him, tears pooling in his eyes. "I'm sorry... Grandpa. I wasn't there when you needed me. I wasn't strong enough. But I will be. I promise you. I'll find the truth behind this curse. I'll defeat this curse. I'll survive. I'll fulfil your wish."
Gently, he wrapped Aegon's body in a white sheet, then carried it to the backyard and placed it in a wooden cart. He covered it carefully.
He turned to Derek. "I'll leave for Verdelane Forest now. I'll meet Grandpa Arvin. You should go too Derek. Leave the village immediately. Go to your family. And don't come back."
Derek placed a hand on Eamon's shoulder. "Take care of yourself kid. Stay hidden. Stay alive. And come back stronger."
The two men exchanged a long, silent look. One forged in survival, pain, and brotherhood.
Eamon nodded once. Then, without another word, he turned the cart and disappeared into the forest's edge, the shadows swallowing him whole.
Derek stood watching him go until the sound of the cart wheels vanished. Then, wiping his face, he turned back to the house, packed what little he could carry, and headed toward his parents' village.
His wife and son were waiting.
And hope—however faint—still flickered on the horizon for Eamon.