The Prophecy bleeds
293 Words
The royal guards formed a barrier, Thomas among them, weapons raised. Orders were clear—protect the priests, no harm to the people.
But the crowd overwhelmed them, desperate to silence the priests once and for all.
Then the earth trembled.
Priest One’s eyes turned obsidian black. His voice boomed.
Suddenly, the ground split open like a gaping maw, swallowing dozens of villagers in screams and dust.
Jack’s heart thundered. Panic surged through his veins.
He leapt onto Shaw, the white mare, and galloped from the madness.
But safety was an illusion.
Captain Charles and his guards blocked the way, whips cracking through the air.
Jack dodged, throwing himself from Shaw just in time, and ran like his life depended on it—because it did.
The Ancient fear was awaken, but nevertheless life continues
The market was a cacophony of noise—voices shouting, merchants hawking their wares, horses snorting and hooves pounding cobblestones. The smell of fresh fish mixed with dust and sweat.
Jack moved quickly, eyes sharp. Fish and grain in hand, he was almost done.
Then—a sudden, sharp kick.
His hand jolted, the baskets tipped, fish and grain spilled across the ground.
The rider dismounted with a smug grin.
Parker. Son of Captain Charles.
“What are you gonna do, huh?” Parker taunted, a cruel smile spreading across his face.
Jack’s blood ran cold. His jaw clenched. The crowd’s attention snapped to them.
Without thinking, Jack’s fist shot out—smashing into Parker’s nose.
Blood gushed.
Parker staggered, stunned.
“Go after him!” he barked to his guards.
But Jack was already moving—swift, fierce, unyielding. He fought off the guards with quick strikes and bursts of speed, vanishing into the maze of alleys.
- Writer
