Chapter 17: Into the Whispering Woods
1022 Words
The palace gates creaked open.
Six horses galloped into the morning mist, their hooves striking the stone road in perfect rhythm.
At the front rode Master Kael, his weathered cloak fluttering behind him. His posture remained upright despite his age, and every movement reflected the discipline of a man who had survived countless battles.
Behind him followed the members of the Royal Vanguard.
Azul rode beside Bashan, while the other four recruits maintained formation.
None of them spoke.
The excitement of leaving the palace had been replaced by uncertainty.
This was no longer training.
Beyond the kingdom’s walls, there would be no instructors waiting to stop a fatal mistake.
Only the enemy.
⸻
After several hours of travel, the royal road gave way to dense woodland.
Towering trees stretched toward the heavens, their branches intertwining so tightly that only scattered beams of sunlight reached the forest floor.
Master Kael raised his hand.
“Halt.”
The horses slowed to a stop.
The old master dismounted first.
“We continue on foot.”
Bashan looked around.
“This forest doesn’t seem dangerous.”
Without replying, Kael bent down and picked up a broken arrow lying among the fallen leaves.
Fresh.
He silently handed it to Azul.
Azul examined it carefully.
“The wood isn’t from Azul.”
Kael nodded.
“Our eastern watchtower used ashwood for its arrows.”
“This…” he said, pointing to the darker shaft, “…comes from the northern forests.”
The spear-wielding girl frowned.
“So someone else has been here.”
“Not someone.”
Kael’s eyes narrowed.
“A group.”
Everyone instinctively reached for their weapons.
⸻
The deeper they ventured, the quieter the forest became.
No birds sang.
No insects buzzed.
Even the wind seemed reluctant to pass through the trees.
Azul noticed strange claw marks carved into several trunks.
They weren’t random.
They formed symbols.
Ancient symbols.
He reached out to touch one.
The moment his fingers brushed the bark—
A sharp pain shot through his arm.
He staggered backward.
“Azul!”
Bashan caught him before he could fall.
“What happened?”
“I…”
Azul stared at the mark.
For a split second…
He had seen a battlefield.
Thousands of soldiers.
Blue banners burning.
A river stained crimson.
Then it vanished.
Master Kael immediately stepped between Azul and the tree.
“Don’t touch those symbols again.”
“You know what they are?” Azul asked.
Kael hesitated.
“I hoped I was mistaken.”
He drew his sword and scraped away the carved mark.
“They’re Crimson Seals.”
“What do they do?” asked the shield bearer.
“They watch.”
The recruits exchanged uneasy glances.
“Watch?”
“They allow the Crimson Order to know who has entered their territory.”
Silence fell.
Bashan instinctively looked into the surrounding trees.
“So…”
“They already know we’re here.”
Kael gave a single nod.
“Most likely.”
⸻
The group resumed their journey, this time with greater caution.
Every snapped twig sounded like a warning.
Every shadow seemed alive.
Hours later, they reached the ruins of a small village.
Charred houses lined the empty streets.
Broken carts lay abandoned.
The village well had been filled with rubble.
Azul slowly walked toward a child’s wooden toy lying in the middle of the road.
It was untouched by the fire.
He picked it up gently.
“Where is everyone?”
No one answered.
The silence itself was the answer.
The Royal Vanguard spread out, searching the remains.
The dagger wielder suddenly called out.
“Over here!”
The others rushed toward him.
Hidden beneath the collapsed roof of a cottage was an elderly man.
Barely alive.
His breathing was weak.
His clothes were stained with blood.
Azul knelt beside him.
“Sir… can you hear me?”
The old man’s eyelids fluttered open.
“They came…”
His voice was scarcely more than a whisper.
“Who came?”
“The men…”
“…with crimson eyes.”
The old man’s trembling hand grabbed Azul’s wrist with surprising strength.
“You…”
His clouded eyes widened.
“They’re looking for you.”
Azul froze.
“For… me?”
The old man nodded weakly.
“They kept asking…”
“‘Where is the boy chosen by the Stream?’”
Every member of the Vanguard looked toward Azul.
Before anyone could speak—
BOOM!
The ground exploded.
A wave of force threw everyone off their feet.
Dust and shattered stone filled the air.
Master Kael landed gracefully, sword already drawn.
“Defensive formation!”
The Vanguard regrouped instantly.
Through the settling dust, slow footsteps echoed across the ruined village.
One…
Two…
Three…
A tall figure emerged from the smoke.
He wore black armor trimmed with crimson.
A long scar crossed his left eye.
His face carried no emotion.
Only contempt.
He stopped twenty feet away and surveyed the young warriors.
His gaze lingered on Azul.
Then he smiled.
“So…”
“The Endless Stream truly chose a child.”
Bashan stepped in front of Azul, gripping his sword.
“If you’re looking for a fight…”
“You’ve found one.”
The stranger laughed softly.
“No.”
His crimson eyes glowed.
“I’m looking for the future King of Azul.”
He pointed directly at Azul.
“Hand him over…”
“…and the rest of you may live.”
A cold wind swept through the ruined village.
Master Kael slowly raised his blade.
“You’ve crossed into Azul’s territory.”
The stranger tilted his head.
“And?”
Kael’s eyes hardened.
“That was your first mistake.”
The stranger smiled wider.
“Then allow me to make a second.”
A terrifying crimson aura erupted from his body, swallowing the ruined village in a sea of blood-red light.
The members of the Royal Vanguard instinctively stepped back.
For the first time since leaving the palace…
They realized they were standing before an enemy far beyond anything they had trained to face.
And Master Kael…
Drew his sword with both hands.
- Writer
