Strangers On The Road
1691 Words
"You should not have returned. "
The sound halted me even before I laid eyes on the village.
It was not loud.
It did not have to be.
I paused at the trail’s edge, gripping my cloak tighter where the relic pressed against my side like an extra heartbeat.
A figure emerged from between the trees.
An elderly man.
Slightly hunched.
But his gaze—keen, alert, overly conscious.
“Turn back,” he repeated, his voice quieter now. “Before they notice you.”
My throat constricted.
“What occurred? ”
He remained silent.
That was answer enough.
Sylvan’s Reach felt off even before I arrived.
It was too quiet.
No smoke billowing from chimneys.
No seagulls screeching over the docks.
No familiar stirrings of morning life that I had known since I could tread barefoot along these paths.
Only stillness.
Weighty.
Anticipating.
I hurried along.
Each step felt as if I was entering a space that had already concluded.
Then I noticed the first door.
Ajar.
Not damaged.
Not broken in.
Simply… left as it was.
Inside, tables remained undisturbed.
Bread partially sliced.
A cup overturned as if someone had abruptly risen and never come back.
I gasped quietly.
“No,” I murmured unintentionally.
I continued onward.
Every house narrated the same tale.
Every window.
Every street.
Deserted mid-activity.
As if the village had been halted by an unavoidable force.
Then I spotted them.
Doors secured from the outside.
Windows covered with heavy planks.
Not a fear of the elements.
A dread of something lurking inside.
Or someone.
My name came to me before I recognized the voice that spoke it.
“Aeliana…”
Not an accusation.
Not a welcome.
Something worse.
Awareness.
I turned.
Two villagers were positioned near the well.
One instantly averted my gaze.
The other did not.
“You returned,” she stated.
As if it were a blunder.
As if I had come back to a place that was already mourning my absence.
“What happened here? ” I queried.
Silence lingered.
Then someone whispered from behind them.
“Do not stand close to her.”
The statement was not loud.
Yet it traveled swiftly.
Like decay.
Like a truth that no one wanted to vocalize first.
“She is cursed,” another voice contributed.
My chest constricted.
I retreated.
“No,” I replied, though I was uncertain about what I was refuting anymore.
More doors creaked open slightly.
Faces emerged.
Observing.
Judging.
Choosing.
Then—
“Misfortune trails behind her,” someone claimed.
Another voice responded immediately.
“The cursed girl. ”
That label clung more fiercely than anything else.
Cursed.
Not Aeliana.
Not girl.
Something less than human.
Something definable.
Something they could cope with by labeling.
My fingers turned icy.
And for the first time
I realized I no longer fit in here.
Not anymore.
I proceeded to the elder’s residence next.
Because I required his insight to understand this.
Because he had always been the one who comprehended things without expressing them.
But his door stood ajar.
And inside
Desolate.
Not vacated recently.
Escaped.
Chair flipped over.
Books scattered everywhere.
A streak of dark, dried blood smeared across the floor.
My breath halted.
"No. . . "
I entered.
Slowly.
Cautiously.
As if the house might recognize me and seek vengeance for my return.
On the surface, a ripped page rested.
Edges charred.
Half-formed words remained legible.
I leaned in closer.
My heartbeat quickened.
". . . they've located her. . . "
The remainder was missing.
But the rest wasn't necessary for me.
A movement stirred behind me.
My wrist ignited with pain.
I gasped and yanked my sleeve down, stumbling back.
Not a warning.
Not merely discomfort.
Danger.
Authentic.
Imminent.
Outside
A noise.
Not shouting.
Not chaos.
Movement.
Calculated.
Too organized to be from villagers.
My blood turned icy.
Then the first scream shattered the quiet.
Everything that followed descended into flames.
I fled before I could fully grasp the reason.
The village wasn't under siege.
It was being scoured.
Doors forcefully kicked open.
People dragged into the daylight.
Questions posed once.
Only a single time.
"Where is the girl? "
No names provided.
No pause.
Not a raid.
A retrieval mission.
A purposeful storm.
Smoke billowed between the structures.
Heat struck my face as I rounded a corner and witnessed a house ablaze from within.
Someone sprinted past me, screaming.
Then abruptly went silent.
Silence returned swiftly.
Too swiftly.
My breath came in sharp gasps.
Rapid.
Incorrect.
Then I spotted them.
Figures gliding through the smoke.
In uniform.
Identified.
A crescent edged by shadow.
The same insignia seen on the deceased travelers.
My stomach turned.
They were here for me.
Not for the village.
For me.
Something shattered inside my chest.
I retreated
Too late.
A hand clutched my arm.
"Stay down! " my father’s voice commanded.
He yanked me behind an overturned cart.
His complexion was pale.
Yet composed.
Too composed for the situation.
"What is going on? " I whispered.
His jaw stiffened.
He hesitated before responding.
Just stared at me as if something he’d been anticipating had finally shown up.
Then
"Your mother anticipated this would occur. "
My breath ceased.
"What? "
He pressed something into my palm.
A small amulet.
Worn metal.
Ancient beyond belief.
"Don’t lose this," he said. "And keep running. "
The surroundings jolted from another explosion.
I gazed at him.
Truly gazed.
"You knew? "
His silence spoke volumes.
Then softly:
"She instructed me to keep you concealed. "
That broke me.
Something within me ruptured.
Not sorrow.
Not terror.
Something more acute.
Realization.
I nodded once.
Because I had no other choice.
He urged me towards the tree line.
"East," he instructed. "Don’t glance back. "
I did.
Just once.
Only a single time.
And saw him standing there as the world burned behind him.
Still watching.
Still defending.
The forest engulfed me quickly.
Too quickly.
As if it had been anticipating my arrival.
Branches snagged at my cloak as I dashed forward.
The artifact hidden under my clothing pulsed gently now.
Not pain.
Guidance.
As if it understood the path to take.
Behind me
No one was chasing yet.
But I felt it regardless.
Pressure in the atmosphere.
Awareness.
Something had realized my absence.
Something adjusted its focus.
Then I heard footsteps.
Not my own.
I halted immediately.
Turned.
Nothing.
Then
"You are quite audible for someone attempting to vanish. "
The sound originated from above.
I glanced upward.
A man perched on a low branch examined me as if I were a minor nuisance.
Not shocked.
Not awestruck.
Simply… present.
Dark attire.
Relaxed stance.
Gaze that felt out of place.
"Who are you? " I challenged.
He slightly tilted his head.
"It depends on who inquires. "
My hand instinctively reached for my concealed dagger.
He was aware.
Naturally, he was aware.
"And that will not aid you," he stated in a steady tone.
I felt an immediate dislike for him.
That was the first sincere thought I had since it all started.
Then
A sound in the distance.
Voices raised.
Metal clanging.
More of them.
He sighed.
"Naturally, they’re early. "
He dropped from the branch without warning.
He landed too silently for a person of his size.
Before I could process
He seized my wrist and yanked me forward.
"Run," he instructed.
I pulled back.
"Why should I trust you? "
He glanced at me momentarily.
Slightly irritated.
"You don’t."
Then he acted.
And I had no option but to follow.
We hadn’t gone far before the forest shifted.
Too quiet once more.
As if the atmosphere had constricted.
Then figures appeared ahead.
Three.
Crescent symbols.
Blocking our way.
One of them advanced.
"Stand down," he commanded.
Not directed at me.
At him.
The man next to me let out a slow breath.
As if this was becoming routine.
"Bad timing," he murmured.
He moved before I grasped the situation.
Not noble.
Effective.
One attacker fell instantaneously.
Another didn’t complete drawing his weapon.
The third pivoted
Then halted.
Because the man next to me was already there.
It concluded in seconds.
Too tidy.
Too rehearsed.
I gazed in astonishment.
"What are you? " I questioned before I could hold back.
He cleaned something from his sleeve.
"Annoyed," he replied.
Then he regarded me.
Actually regarded me this time.
“You should have remained concealed,” he remarked. “The prophecy wasn’t meant to awaken this soon. ”
My stomach sank.
“How do you know that? ”
He remained silent.
Not with a direct response.
Rather
“People will continue to come,” he stated. “This is not finished. It’s just beginning. ”
I shook my head.
“You think I will—what? Rely on you? ”
There was a brief pause.
Then
“No,” he responded. “I anticipate you will survive. ”
Something about that silence that followed hit harder than anything else.
We trekked for hours afterward.
Neither of us spoke much.
Neither trusting the other enough to feel at ease.
When we finally approached a ridge, smoke from Sylvan’s Reach spiraled into the sky behind us.
Dark.
Dense.
Final.
I halted.
Ignoring his warning.
Looked back.
The village was in ruins.
On fire.
Perishing.
Then I noticed them.
Figures positioned at the edge of the devastation.
Observing.
Not pursuing.
Waiting.
One of them gradually lifted a hand.
Then pulled back their hood.
I couldn’t make out their face from this distance.
But I sensed it.
Their gaze locked onto me like a knife finding its mark.
The breeze carried a voice softly across the distance.
Not loudly.
Assuredly.
“The Shadowborn walks once more. ”
The words fell like a decree already set.
Elsewhere
Far removed from flames and destruction
In a chamber hewn from stone older than empires, a hand shifted a piece across an ancient game board.
The figure did not gaze up.
Simply smiled softly.
And murmured:
“Commence. ”
For the first time in centuries, the world had recalled my name
and it was already gearing up to eliminate me.
- Writer
