Ember Born

Chapter 3: The Long Road

Odalo walked through the night without stopping. He didn't dare rest, not with soldiers somewhere behind him and his newborn son wrapped tightly against his chest. Every few minutes, he glanced back over his shoulder, checking for movement in the darkness, though he saw nothing but empty road and quiet trees.

By morning, his legs ached in a way he had never felt before. His feet were raw from walking so fast for so long. But every time he thought about stopping to rest, he looked down at his son's small, sleeping face, and he kept moving.

The journey to the city was long, more than a thousand kilometers, and Odalo had no money for transport, no way to travel quickly or safely. He walked when he could, and when kind strangers passed by in carts or trucks heading in the right direction, he asked for a ride, offering to work or carry goods in exchange for space beside them. Most people said yes. A tired man with a newborn baby wasn't hard to feel sorry for.

Still, the trip took days. Odalo barely slept, waking at every strange sound, terrified that soldiers might have picked up his trail. He fed his son when he cried, wrapped him tighter when the nights grew cold, and whispered quiet reassurances to him, even though the baby was far too young to understand any of it.

"We're almost there," he told him more than once, more to comfort himself than the child. "Almost somewhere safe."

By the time the city came into view, Odalo could hardly believe it was real. He had never seen anything like it, tall buildings, crowded streets, more people in one place than he had ever imagined existed. It was loud, and busy, and completely overwhelming after a lifetime spent in a quiet village.

It took him the better part of a day to find what he was looking for. He asked several strangers for directions, most of whom looked at him strangely before pointing him toward the right part of the city. Finally, tired and desperate, he found it, a modest building with a hand-painted sign out front that read Living Stone Orphanage.

He stood outside for a long moment before finally forcing himself to walk in.

A woman greeted him at the door, kind-eyed but clearly used to seeing all kinds of difficult situations walk through it. Odalo held his son a little tighter before speaking.

"I found him," he said, the lie sitting heavy and bitter in his mouth. "In the bush, crying, alone. I don't know whose child he is. I just couldn't leave him there."

The woman studied him for a moment, then looked down gently at the sleeping baby. Whatever doubts she may have had, she didn't say them out loud. She had seen enough hardship to know that people rarely explained themselves fully, and that sometimes the truth mattered less than making sure a child was safe.

"You did the right thing bringing him here," she said. "We'll take good care of him."

She led Odalo to a small office, where she asked him a few basic questions and had him sign several documents. His hand was steady as he signed, though nothing inside him felt steady at all.

When it was finally time to leave, Odalo made himself walk toward the door without looking back. But just before he stepped outside, something made him turn around one last time.

His son was awake now, lying in a small crib, one tiny hand raised in the air, almost as if he were reaching for him.

Odalo felt his chest tighten painfully. Every part of him wanted to run back, to scoop his son up and refuse to let go. But he forced himself to turn away instead, walking quickly out the door before the sound of his son's voice could break whatever resolve he had left.

Odalo didn't go far before deciding to head back toward the village. He knew Amara would be waiting, worried sick, and he didn't want her carrying that fear alone for a moment longer than necessary.

His mind was full of plans as he walked, what to tell people in the village, how they would explain their son's sudden disappearance, how they would rebuild whatever life they had left after everything that happened. He was so lost in thought that he almost didn't hear the sound of hooves pounding against the road behind him.

By the time he turned around, it was already too late.

Three soldiers on horseback were closing in fast, their faces set with the kind of determination that told Odalo immediately who had sent them. He ran anyway, some instinct pushing him to try, even though he already knew it was pointless. Within moments, they had caught up to him, pulling him roughly from the road and binding his hands.

"Where is the child?" one of them demanded.

Odalo said nothing.

They didn't ask again. Instead, they dragged him onto one of the horses and rode hard toward the palace.

The palace was larger and grander than Odalo remembered, tall stone walls and wide open halls that seemed to swallow every sound except for the echo of his own footsteps as the soldiers marched him inside. At the far end of the throne room sat King Zeno, seven of his top advisors positioned around him, each one responsible for overseeing a different part of Chemari land.

Zeno didn't rise when Odalo was brought before him. He simply watched, his expression unreadable, as the soldiers forced Odalo to his knees.

"Odalo," Zeno said finally, his voice calm, almost gentle. "I understand you had a long journey recently. A thousand kilometers is a lot of walking for a man to do alone."

Odalo said nothing.

"I'm not here to hurt you," Zeno continued. "I only need to know where the child is. Once I know that, this can all be over quickly, and quietly."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Odalo said, though his voice wavered slightly.

Zeno studied him for a long moment, something unreadable passing behind his eyes. "I think you do," he said quietly. "And I think you understand exactly why I need to find him."

When Odalo still refused to answer, Zeno sighed, almost as though he were disappointed rather than angry.

"Bring in his wife," he said.

Odalo's stomach dropped. Minutes later, Amara was led into the room, her wrists bound, her eyes finding Odalo's the moment she stepped through the doorway.

One of Zeno's men stepped forward, clearly preparing to hurt her in order to force answers out of Odalo. But before anything could happen, Amara shouted across the room.

"Don't tell him anything, Odalo! Do you hear me? Not one word!"

Odalo turned to face Zeno fully, his voice steady despite the fear coursing through him. "I will never tell you where my son is."

For just a moment, something flickered across Zeno's face, not quite anger, something closer to genuine regret. Then it disappeared, replaced by the same calm expression he always wore.

"That's unfortunate," Zeno said quietly. He turned to one of his soldiers. "Kill him."

He didn't do it himself. He rarely did anything himself anymore. A soldier stepped forward instead, driving a spear through Odalo's chest before Amara's scream had even fully left her throat.

Odalo dropped to his knees, then to the stone floor. As the last of his strength faded, he looked up and found his wife's eyes one final time.

"Wait for him," he whispered, blood on his lips, a faint, strange smile somehow finding its way onto his face despite everything happening around him. "He's coming back for us."

Then he was gone.

Amara's scream tore through the throne room, raw and broken, unlike any sound she had ever made before. "You're a monster!" she cried out, straining uselessly against the hands holding her back. "You're insane! Do you hear me?"

Zeno watched her for a long moment, his expression difficult to read, somewhere between discomfort and something almost like grief.

"Take her away," he said quietly. "She needs time to grieve."

The guards led her out, her cries echoing down the long stone hallways long after she disappeared from view.

When the room finally fell silent again, one of the advisors stepped forward carefully. "My king. What should we do now?"

Zeno sat back on his throne, his gaze distant, fixed on something none of the others in the room could see.

"We wait," he said quietly. "The boy is out there somewhere, growing up, completely unaware of what he truly is. These things take time. So will I."

He folded his hands together, his expression calm once again, though something behind his eyes suggested this decision had cost him more than he was willing to show anyone in that room.

"All we can do now," he said, "is wait, and give it time."