In the morning, the group woke up groaning and hungover. It took them nearly three hours just to pull themselves together enough to travel. Ethan, despite being one of the first to fall asleep, still looked drowsy as he climbed into the same carriage as before.
As the wheels began to turn and the bumpy road stretched out before them, Ethan drifted off again. This time, his sleep ran deep—so deep, it carried him into vivid dreams.
In his dream, he arrived at a camp filled with children. Some were older, some younger, but all were dressed in the same tattered clothes. Then, the scene shifted. He now stood in a training yard where young recruits swung wooden swords under the harsh gaze of a drill sergeant, who barked commands without pause. Ethan was among them, doing his best.
Then, him sitting on a desk reading files, with a group of six men wearing black robes standing at attention
Suddenly, the dream warped again.
Now he was in a dark, cavernous room, seated on what looked less like a fancy chair and more like a throne. Everything around him was visible despite the lack of light, but something about it felt too real to be a dream.
The throne was massive—ten feet high and wide enough for a full-grown man. The wood was black as obsidian, and the cushions a deep raven blue. Ethan's heart pounded in his chest. His skin was clammy with sweat, and fear gripped him more tightly than anything he'd ever felt—not even the worst nights in that forsaken village compared.
He tried to stand up, but found that he couldn't. his body was attached to the throne somehow His legs were chained to something. He looked down and saw three chains linking him to a floating mass of black smoke hovering ten yards away. Strangely, the chains didn't just attach to his feet; they passed through iron rings embedded in the base of the throne.
Then a voice came from the smoke.
"Don't think it's over. It'll take more than this to be free. This is just the beginning of your suffering. Kikikikikiki…"
"Your suffering will be my favorite show, my fuel, and my purpose but please don't break too soon little one. Kikkikii.."
The voice was high-pitched, squeaky, and full of menace. Ethan's breathing turned ragged. The fear this voice stirred in him went beyond anything logical. It was primal.
Suddenly, a distant voice broke through the darkness. Jenkins.
The whole dream dissolved in a flash.
Ethan gasped awake, sweat dripping from his face as he looked around. Jenkins was shaking him, and Olmo and Piter were beside him, faces tight with concern.
"Kid, what the hell?" Olmo said. "You scared the shit out of us."
Ethan blinked rapidly, heart racing like a runaway horse. Jenkins handed him a water gourd, which Ethan drank greedily—half of it spilling down his chin.
Mind in shambles, he felt a headache like never before, his ears ringing. Sweat all over his body.
"Calm down, Ethan," Jenkins said gently. "It was just a nightmare. You're alright."
Even surrounded by people, it took Ethan a few minutes to settle down. But deep inside, he knew the fear hadn't come from a simple dream. He could still feel the cold dampness of that throne room. He could smell the air. It was too vivid.
He didn't speak. But inside, his thoughts were running wild.
Was that really just a nightmare? Or something else? Some kind of vision? A warning?
His mysterious origin… the woman's angelic voice calling him… the stranger who gave him to Stanley… and now that voice. That awful voice.
Trying to steady himself, Ethan muttered in his mind, Everything will be fine. I've come too far to panic now. Diggen can't outrun a carriage. By the time they realize I'm gone, we'll be long out of reach. As for the rest… Everything in due time, I will worry about the things in front of me first.
Jenkins kept stealing glances at Ethan from time to time, quietly checking to see if the boy was okay. Contrary to what most of his men probably thought, Jenkins genuinely liked the kid. Maybe it was because he saw something of himself in Ethan—some shadow of a past he rarely spoke about—or maybe it was something else entirely. Whatever the reason, a quiet sense of responsibility had begun to form in him.
He wasn't sure if bringing Ethan into The Black Scimitar was the right thing to do. The organization was no place for a child, not really. But it was the only path he could offer—a path out of that cursed village, a chance to survive and maybe even thrive. Right or wrong, it was the most he could do.
As the carriage rolled on, Jenkins turned his gaze forward… then frowned.
Ethan's complexion had shifted again—suddenly pale, his eyes wide in terror. His chest rose and fell with rapid, uneven breaths. The boy's head darted left and right, scanning the trees as if expecting something to lunge out at any moment.
Something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
A few seconds earlier, Ethan had been quietly watching the scenery—the trees swaying gently, the tall grass brushing against the wind, sunlight trickling through the branches. His heart had finally calmed, and for a fleeting moment, a sense of serenity returned to his mind.
But then, just as his breath began to steady… he felt it.
That feeling again.
The feeling of being watched.
It was the same sensation he'd experienced before—while foraging alone in the woods. But this time, it was different. It wasn't just someone observing him.
It was hatred.
He stiffened instantly, his gaze flicking across the trees. He couldn't pinpoint where it came from, but the malice in the air was suffocating. Without hesitation, he turned to Jenkins, panic in his voice.
"We're in danger," he said. "Something's following us. I felt it before in the woods, but this is worse—we need to move faster."
Olmo raised a brow. "Calm down, kid. I get it—nightmare shook you up, da—but this road? Is safe. You're fine now."
"You don't believe me, and that's fair," Ethan said quickly. "But please—just trust me. We have to move faster."
Jenkins didn't hesitate.
"MEN, ON GUARD! PICK UP THE PACE! WE MIGHT HAVE COMPANY!"
Weapons were drawn instantly. The crew surrounded the carriages, eyes scanning every shadow.
Olmo muttered under his breath, "You overreacting to kid's bad dream, eh…?"But he still followed orders.
"Better safe than sorry, right?" Jenkins snapped. "I'll take full responsibility."
The group picked up speed. The tension was thick, but nothing happened… not yet.
Then Ethan saw it—just barely, from the corner of his eye.
A figure, to the left of the road. Brief, but unmistakable.
A familiar rat, standing upright on its hind legs.
It stared directly at him with a mocking grin, then raised a tiny middle finger.
"Sucker."
Then came the howl.
A bone-chilling, primal sound that echoed through the trees and froze the blood of everyone who heard it.
The group stopped.
Ethan stared into the woods.
Something was coming.