Shadow of Fate

Scars in a Child's Heart

Dagohan's skilled hands moved with practiced precision as he tended to the wounds of the young boy lying before him. The room was filled with the pungent scent of medicinal herbs and the soft crackle of a dying fire, casting flickering shadows across the walls. The boy's body was covered in permanent burn scars, a grim testament to the horrors he had endured.

As consciousness slowly returned to him, the boy cried out in pain, his anguished cries echoing through the room. Dagohan's heart ached at the sight of the shattered child, but he maintained his stoic demeanor, his expression betraying no hint of emotion. Drawing near, he leaned in close, his voice cold and unyielding.

"You weakling," he spat, his words like shards of ice. "Crying like a newborn. If you have any shred of dignity left, you'd do well to stop your whining."

The boy's tears continued to flow, mingling with the echoes of his pain. Dagohan's harsh words cut deep, striking at the fragile heart of the child. Yet, amidst the agony, a seed of determination took root within him.

Days turned into weeks as the boy slowly regained his strength, his resolve hardened by the trials he had endured. Dagohan watched from afar, his silent vigil a testament to the bond that had formed between them.

Finally, as the boy neared recovery, Dagohan presented him with a choice: to leave now that he was almost healed or to stay and serve as the watchman of the newborn princess of Tawalisi, with the caveat that he must forget about his family and the kingdom of Balintataw if he chose to stay. Living as a watchman means dedicating oneself to the protection and service of a royal.

"The choice is yours," Dagohan intoned, his voice devoid of warmth. "But know this: if you choose to stay, there is no turning back."

The boy hesitated, his gaze flickering with uncertainty. He had no place to call home and no family to return to. In the end, the innocent boy chose to stay; his decision was born out of necessity rather than desire.

And so, the training began in earnest within the hidden fortress of the royal watchmen, nestled underground away from prying eyes, with its entrance concealed beneath a small hut deep in the forest. Here, Dagohan schooled Maragtas in the art of stealth and vigilance, imparting the skills necessary to serve as the shadowy watchman of the royal family. Among the echoing chambers and dimly lit corridors of the fortress, they practiced tirelessly, honing their abilities in secrecy and silence.

"In every royal born, a watchman is trained," Dagohan explained, his voice a low murmur in the quiet of the training grounds. "And for every royal to die, a watchman must die."

Maragtas listened intently, absorbing every word as he prepared himself for the solemn duty that lay ahead. From that moment on, he was known not as Maragtas but as the watchman of her highness, the crown princess of Tawalisi.

As the days passed and the boy's wounds began to heal, a tentative bond formed between him and Dagohan. Despite the initial harshness of his mentor, the boy sensed a flicker of compassion beneath the gruff exterior. In moments of quietude, Dagohan would share snippets of wisdom garnered from a life lived on the edge of shadows, offering glimpses into a world fraught with danger and intrigue. Gradually, the boy's fear gave way to curiosity, and he found himself drawn to the enigmatic figure who had saved him from certain death.

Days turned into months, and months into years. Maragtas honed his skills under Dagohan's watchful eye, mastering the art of stealth and subterfuge with remarkable ease. Despite his slender frame, Maragtas was tall for his age, and his developing muscles were a testament to the rigorous training he underwent. He moved with the grace of a predator, his movements fluid and precise, a testament to his natural talent, nurtured by Dagohan's guidance.

Meanwhile, in the palace above, the young princess grew in solitude, her father's grief casting a long shadow over her childhood. Neglected and forgotten, she sought solace in mischief, her wild antics a cry for attention amidst the cold indifference of her father's rule. Despite her circumstances, the princess blossomed into even greater beauty, her long black hair cascading like silk over her fair skin, her eyes sparkling with a depth that belied her tender age, and her smile, though rare, radiating with a perfection that captivated all who beheld it.

Beneath her tough exterior lay a heart of gold, hidden away from prying eyes. She spoke with the same commanding tone as her father, feared by all who crossed her path. Yet, in the depths of her loneliness, a longing for connection stirred within her—a desire to be seen and understood.

One day, as she roamed the palace grounds in search of adventure, she stumbled upon a hidden passageway—an underground tunnel leading outside the palace walls. Intrigued, she ventured forth, her curiosity guiding her steps as she wandered deeper into the darkness.

Lost and alone, she wandered further and further from the safety of the palace, her fear mounting with each passing moment. The princess continued wandering deeper into the labyrinthine tunnels until she managed to reach the other end.

As the wandering princess emerged from the other end of the tunnel, Dagohan's heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. Instant recognition struck him like a bolt of lightning, leaving him momentarily stunned by the unexpected turn of events. How had the young princess managed to slip away from the confines of the palace undetected?

Meanwhile, the princess reveled in the newfound freedom of the village, her laughter echoing through the bustling streets as she explored the sights and sounds around her. Unbeknownst to her, Dagohan observed her every move from the shadows, his heart heavy with concern for her safety.

Approaching her with caution, Dagohan disguised himself as a lowly palace servant, his demeanor gentle yet firm as he addressed the princess. "Your highness, it's not safe for you to be out here alone. Your father would be worried," he cautioned, his voice barely above a whisper.

The young princess regarded him with a skeptical gaze, her keen eyes sizing him up with an air of curiosity. "And who might you be?" she inquired, her tone tinged with suspicion.

Dagohan's resolve wavered for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure, offering a reassuring smile. "Just a humble servant, your highness, concerned for your well-being," he replied, careful to keep his true identity hidden.

The princess's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she considered his words. "Everyone in the palace knows my father hates me," she remarked, her voice tinged with bitterness.

Dagohan's brow furrowed in concern. "Has he ever said as much to you?" he pressed gently, his heart aching for the young girl before him.

The princess shook her head solemnly. "No, but I can feel it," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Why don't we return to the palace together? You can ask your father directly if he truly harbors such feelings towards you," he proposed, his voice laced with quiet determination.

A mischievous glint sparkled in the princess's eyes as she considered his offer. "It's obvious. Wanna bet?" she challenged, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Dagohan nodded, his resolve unwavering. "Very well, your highness. Let us return to the palace, and we shall see if your suspicions hold true," he agreed, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Maragtas, who had been searching for Dagohan, finally spotted him in the company of a young girl. Consumed by curiosity, he surreptitiously trailed them, eager to uncover the identity of this girl.

As they ventured back towards the palace, Dagohan lit the way with a small lantern, its soft glow guiding them through the darkness of the tunnel. And upon reaching the palace walls, Dagohan silently vanished into the shadows, leaving the young princess alone without a word of farewell.