The man stood on the execution platform with his arms bound in heavy chains, and his figure silhouetted against the afternoon sun. His clothes were torn, stained with blood and dirt, but his spirit remained unbroken. His eyes, sharp and gleaming with defiance, swept over the thousands gathered below.
The crowd's murmurs were a cacophony of fear, curiosity, and awe as they gazed at the man on the execution platform.
Each person there was to witness the end of a legend.
As death looming over him, Roger let out a booming laugh. A deep, carefree laugh that was full of life. The sound rang out over the square, silencing the crowd for a heartbeat. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, yet his grin remained wide, unfaltering.
Roger threw his head back, and shouted, "A myth is not a myth! A legend is not a legend! My wealth and treasure? It can be yours if you want it! Search for it! Bwahahahah! I left everything in that one place!"
His voice carrying with the wind, each word searing itself into the minds of those who heard.
His declaration hung in the air like a spark, igniting a fire that would soon consume the world.
Once signaled, the executioners raised their blades, their edges gleaming coldly in the sunlight.
Time seemed to slow as the man gazed upward, his eyes fixed on the endless blue sky. In that fleeting moment, he felt no fear, no regret. His heart was light, and his mind free. He had lived his life without restraint, and now, he would meet his end in the same way.
"STRIKE!"
As the blade fell, slicing through flesh and bone, his last sensation was the kiss of the wind on his face. His vision dimmed, but his grin did not waver. The world tilted as his head separated from his body, and in that final instant, his simple thought lingered.
'What a fine day!'
His head rolled onto the wooden platform with a dull thud, coming to rest at the feet of the stunned onlookers. Gasps and screams erupted from the crowd, a mix of horror and disbelief. But the man's severed head bore a haunting, infamous grin, his eyes twinkling with the remnants of a mirth that death could not erase.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the sound of the wind. Those closest to the platform stood paralyzed, their gazes locked on the expression that defied death itself. In the annals of history, that grin would become a symbol.
It was a call to arms, a whisper of the treasure that lay waiting, and the dawn of a great era born from the final breath of a man who laughed in the face of oblivion.
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Elsewhere, the sky darkened, and a storm was brewing.
The wind howled fiercely outside, carrying the scent of rain and the promise of a storm. The night was dark, chaotic, as heavy rain lashed against the windows of a secluded cabin nestled deep in the woods. Thunder rumbled in the distance, its deep growl shaking the very ground, while lightning briefly illuminated the dense forest, casting eerie shadows across the landscape.
Despite the tempest raging outside, the cabin itself was a beacon of warmth and comfort. Though small, it was furnished with meticulous care. The living room was dominated by a plush sofa, its cushions upholstered in rich, burgundy velvet. Thick curtains, made from heavy brocade, were drawn tightly over the windows, shielding the inhabitants from the storm's wrath. The wooden floor gleamed with a polished finish, and a rug of intricate design stretched across it, adding a touch of elegance. A crackling fire danced in the hearth, casting a gentle, golden glow over the room and filling the space with the scent of burning wood.
However, on this night, the cabin's tranquility was punctuated by a different sound. One that even the raging storm could not suppress.
From one of the rooms, the anguished cries of a woman in labor echoed.
"You're doing well, My Lady!" Another voice soothed, filled with calm urgency. "Just a little more. Push!"
A woman's moans heightened with each wave of pain, her strength waning as she labored to bring new life into the world. The air was thick with the tension of the moment, the storm outside a mirror to the storm within.
Then, as if splitting the night, a baby's wail pierced through the cabin. The cries were strong, full of life, a beacon of hope against the tempest.
"My Lady, it's a young miss!" the woman loyal attendant announced, her voice brimming with joy and relief. But before the woman could fully grasp the significance of those words, another contraction gripped her. The midwife's face grew serious once more as she realized there was still another life to be brought forth.
"Again, My Lady. You need to push again!"
With a renewed cry of effort, the woman pushed, the room heavy with anticipation. Moments later, another newborn's cries joined the first, a second child drawing its first breath.
However, the joy did not last long.
Two cries, but one cry grew stronger, while the other weakened, fading into a soft whimper before being swallowed by the storm.
On this night, where the howling wind and crashing thunder bore witness, birth and death intertwined. The storm raged on, but inside the cabin, a solemn hush settled, a poignant reminder of life's fragile balance.
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Darkness.
It stretched endlessly, an abyss without form or direction, and she floated in its depths, weightless, untethered, yet aware. A heavy fog clouded her thoughts, thick and suffocating. There was no sense of time, no past, and no future.
There was only the overwhelming stillness of the void.
She tried to move. Nothing happened.
She tried to breathe. There was no air.
Panic swelled within her, only to fizzle out like a spark in the rain. Emotions, sensations that came in fragments, like echoes of a life slipping through her fingers. Something told her she had been here before, in this nothingness, in this state of detachment.
But when? And why?
The answers danced beyond her grasp, taunting her from behind an impenetrable veil.
A whisper brushed against her mind.
"…ru…"
A voice? Or was it just her own thoughts unraveling?
She could not tell.
The sound was distant, swallowed by the vast silence, yet it sent a tremor through her being. It was familiar, and she felt like she should recognize it.
More murmurs followed, indistinct but insistent, like voices pressing against the edges of her consciousness. Shadows flickered in the void. Vague, shapeless figures she couldn't quite see, couldn't quite remember.
She reached for them, but her arms would not move. She tried to speak, but no sound emerged.
A dull ache throbbed in her chest. A memory, hazy and fleeting.
Laughter, the clash of battle, the warmth of sunlight on her skin.
It slipped away the moment she reached for it, leaving only the aching emptiness behind.
Who was she? What had she lost?
The void around her trembled.
A sudden pull, a force unseen, yanked her downward.
Light exploded in the darkness, blinding and all-consuming. Sensations rushed back all at once. The pain, the cold, and the rough bite of wind against her skin. Her lungs burned as she gasped, air flooding into her body like she had never breathed before.
Her limbs trembled. Her body curled in on itself, foreign and unfamiliar, as though she were inhabiting something that did not quite fit.
And then, sound.
A muffled cry, faint and hoarse.
It took her a moment to realize it had come from her own throat.
Panic flared, sudden and sharp. She could feel the chill of the air, the tightness of her limbs, and the weight of something coarse wrapped around her. Her fingers twitched, weak, clumsy. She wanted to move, to reach out, to know where she was, what was happening to her.
More sounds. Distant voices. Shadows loomed beyond the fog in her mind. They were speaking, murmuring words she could not yet decipher.
A hand touched her, warm and careful. Instinct made her flinch, but she lacked the strength to pull away. A hushed voice spoke above her, gentle, laced with something unreadable.
She knew nothing of this new environment. Nothing of what had happened to her. And yet, deep in her soul, there was a lingering unease, a quiet, insidious certainty that something was wrong.
All she knew was that she had been somewhere else.
And now… she was not.
She was not supposed to be here.
And then, there was nothing.