"Jack are you there?!" Grothar's voice cut through the crackling fire, rough and panicked.
"Yeah," jack murmured, barely hearing myself.
The world around them was burning. The wind reeked of smoke, blood, and something far worse — the scent of death that clings to everything it touches. The kind that gets into your bones and stays there.
Grothar rode like a demon, pushing the horse beyond its limits. Jack don't know how he did it — how he stayed so focused, so fierce. Jack's own hands were still trembling. His body was numb. He couldn't even feel his legs. He think as if he left the part of myself back there, with the corpse he made.
"I killed someone. He was trying to kill me, I know that, but… it doesn't stop the image from burning in my skull. His face. His blood. My knife." Jack murmured in agony
Jack kept hearing his father's voice in the back of his mind, soft and distant.
"Son, if you're ever lost… look to the North Star. It'll guide you home."
But there was no North Star tonight. Just smoke and flame.
And home? That word felt like a cruel joke now.
"Where were they?"
"Who was going to force me to wake up at dawn to clean the stables? Who'd chase me around the field after I broke the fence again? Who'd laugh, then scold me when I called the rooster "the devil in feathers"?" Jack questioned every aspect of Life
"They were gone. Everyone I loved was ash."
The weight in Jack's chest was heavier than armor. wanted to scream — to punch the sky, to collapse — but there was no time. They were still being hunted. If he let go now, they both die.
In the roaring chaos of hooves and flame, Grothar's mind flickered back to the last talk he had with Jack's father. It had been a quiet night, everyone asleep, and the stars listening in. They had just returned from the farm .
"Why would you adopt a street beggar like me from the gutters of Surram?" Grothar had asked.
Jack's father had smiled calmly. "Because you are kind my boy , you know?"
That night, Grothar had felt something warm—like home.
Grothar still remembers the day clearly when he was just a wandering thief ,who snatched a apple ,running, until he crashed straight into Jack's father . The soldiers wanted to jail him
But it was his father who take the charge and paid double the price of a single apple for a theif
"Let the boy go, he's just hungry."
The single act of love shattered something cold inside Grothar's and when he asked how can he repay him , the old man just smiled and said
"Just help me carry my tools to my home , son"
Grothar followed him tonthe farmlands, to the kingdom of mamonth and when it was time to leave,that old look at him and said ,with a warm , withered grin
"if you have nowhere to go...., you can call this place home"
And uears later, sitting beside him under the sky with a north star like family, Jack's father told one final thing:
"You're like my elder son now, Grothar," he'd said. "Don't ever leave Jack."
That memory burned brighter than the fire around them, and Grothar's hands tightened on the reins. He let the horse bolt forward, faster, harder—through blood, through fire, through everything.
A scream tore through the air behind us — something inhuman.
"What the hell was that?!" Jack yelled.
"Don't look back!" Grothar snapped. "We're almost at the bridge! Just hang on!"
Jack should've listened. But he turned.
Just in time to see a black-fletched arrow slice through the night and bury itself deep into Grothar's shoulder.
"Grothar!" Jack Screamed
The horse screamed and reared, throwing them both of them like rag dolls.
Jack's back hit the ground hard. Stars burst behind in his eyes. But even as pain shot through his ribs, he reached out — and Grothar's hand caught his. His grip was strong. Even while bleeding, even while falling, he caught him.
The moment they hit the ground, the pain roared through jack like fire. His breath caught — sharp, useless. Everything blurred. His arms, his ribs, his neck… all of it screamed. But through the ringing in his ears, He heard Grothar groan. He turned his head — Grothar was bleeding bad, the arrow still sticking out of his shoulder.
Grothar's face was twisted in agony, but his eyes… his eyes were still scanning, calculating.
"Grothar!" Jack crawled to him, dragging his aching body across the dirt. "You're bleeding like hell!" jack Screamed
"They're coming," Grothar said through gritted teeth. "Zentisian scouts. I saw them."
Jack looked back. Figures in dark armor were stalking through the flames — slow, steady, confident. Like they already knew we were finished.
Grothar's hand clutched the saddlebag. "The sack... it's full of flammables. Jack grabbed it back at the barn."
He stared at him, confused. "What? Why?!" he said in confusion
"In case things got worse." Grothar replied calmly
Grothar coughed, a bit of blood at the corner of his lips, and gave Jack a crooked grin. "I guess I hoped we'd get lucky."
A second arrow landed nearby, hissing into the dirt like a snake. Jack didn't wait. Jack yanked the sack open and poured it across the dry grass, soaking it in the flammable mix. My hands were trembling, but not from fear anymore — from rage. From survival.
Jack pulled Grothar with him, just far enough to shield him from the blast and then lit it.
The fire roared up like it had been waiting — a living wall of flame that burst into the sky and screamed into the face of their hunters. The air shimmered with heat. Jack felt the blast whip past him, searing his skin. The Zentisians backed off, shielding their faces from the sudden inferno.
Behind jack , the horse had fallen, injured and crying out.
"No," jack muttered, limping to it. "Come on… Not now. Not now."
Jack grabbed its reins, his hands slick with sweat and blood. He whispered to it like a prayer. "Get up. Please. I can't lose you too. Please."
It didn't move.
So jack screamed and pulled with everything he had — the last scraps of strength he didn't know he still carried — and somehow, the damn horse stood.
Grothar was slipping. His eyes fluttered.
"Get on," jack said and lifting Grothar ."We're not dying here."
Grothar tried to argue, but his voice cracked. Jack didn't care. He shoved Grothar onto the saddle, climbed up behind him, and kicked the horse into motion.
Behind them, the Zentisian war chief stepped out of the smoke. Jack saw his red eyes glowing, his armor blackened like obsidian. But he didn't stop to stare.
They crossed the bridge like ghosts on the wind, the fire behind them casting their shadows ahead — as if the past was chasing them.
Grothar leaned back against jack, his voice barely more than a breath.
"I'm sorry I messed up, Jacky…"
Jack tightened his hold on the reins, and on him.
"You didn't," jack said.
Grothar smiled weakly. "One day… we'll show them our fangs, yeah? Make them feel it."
"Yeah," jack whispered. "We'll tear their heart out."
Grothar closed his eyes and leaned into jack like a dying flame clinging to warmth.
And jack for the first time didn't cry , didn't scream and rode into the night with fire in his veins and one vow burning louder than the rest:
"I will burn their empire to the ground."