Scarlet Face
1091 Words
The small fire Leonar had lit at the edge of the forest flickered in a heavy silence, like a red heart beating in the middle of a sea of shadows.
Night had stretched itself over the trees like a black cloak, broken only by thin strands of moonlight slipping through the branches.
Slowly, Leonar rose to his feet.
His hand moved instinctively to the hilt of his dagger, while his eyes fixed on the figure standing at the edge of the firelight.
The shadow did not move like an ordinary man.
It stood unnaturally still… as if it belonged to the forest itself—its roots buried deep beneath the soil alongside the trees.
At last, Leonar spoke, his voice low:
“Who are you?”
No answer came.
The man remained where he was for a moment… then took a single step forward.
The firelight touched his face.
It was red—crimson, like glowing embers—yet it did not cover his entire face, more like a mark… something unnatural, almost like a scar or a living brand.
His eyes were deep, carrying something ancient within them… a sorrow that felt older than memory itself.
Leonar stiffened.
He had heard of this face before—
in the old stories whispered by hunters when the night grew heavy and the air turned cold.
The Lost Prince.
But the man did not look like a monster, not as the stories had claimed.
He stood calmly, and when he spoke, his voice was low… not that of a killer, but of a weary man who had lived too long with his own silence.
“There’s no need for the dagger, Leonar…”
Leonar froze.
“You know my name?”
A faint smile touched the man’s crimson-marked face.
“I know more than you think.”
He stepped closer, until the firelight reached only half of him.
The other half remained swallowed by darkness.
“There is a bond between us… a bond of blood.”
Leonar’s throat tightened.
“What blood? I don’t even know you.”
The man did not react to the doubt.
Instead, he looked at Leonar for a long moment… as if seeing beyond him—beyond flesh—into something buried deep inside.
“I know what you’re feeling.”
Leonar said nothing.
“The pain in your chest… that sudden emptiness that came without warning.”
Something inside Leonar trembled.
“How—?”
The man raised his hand slightly, cutting him off.
“It feels as though something broke inside you… as though a heart stopped beating far away, yet its echo reached you.”
Leonar’s breath tightened.
“…Yes.”
The man stepped closer to the fire, his voice growing heavier.
“That’s because something did happen.”
Silence fell.
Then he said:
“In the royal palace… the queen died tonight.”
Leonar’s eyes widened.
He had never known the queen, never even seen her—yet the words struck his chest like a falling stone.
“And that is not all.”
The man bent slightly and tossed a small piece of wood into the fire.
The flames rose, casting a stronger glow across his crimson-marked face.
“The princess, Aliana… may not survive.”
Leonar’s heart trembled, though he did not understand why.
“Die…?”
“Yes.”
Silence stretched between them.
Leonar spoke slowly:
“Why are you telling me all this?”
The man lifted his head and met his gaze.
“Because it concerns you.”
Leonar froze.
“How?”
But the man did not answer.
Instead, he turned slightly and gestured toward a part of the forest.
Leonar followed his gaze.
There stood a large tree—its trunk thick, its branches reaching high into the sky.
Beside it, another tree of the same kind… smaller, yet its leaves were darker.
Leonar looked back at him.
“What does that mean?”
The man smiled.
It was a quiet smile… a sad one.
“You will understand… later.”
Leonar frowned.
“Who are you, really?”
No answer came.
The man drew a slow breath and looked up at the sky.
The moon had climbed higher now.
“I’ve told you what I can… for now.”
He looked back at Leonar.
“And that is enough for one night.”
He took a step back.
His smile widened slightly… but it was not a smile of joy.
It felt like a farewell.
“Now… at last, I can leave.”
Leonar stiffened.
“Leave?”
But before he could say more—
The air around the man shifted.
Wind rose suddenly between the trees.
And then… his body began to fade.
Not all at once—
but like red dust, breaking apart and carried away by the wind.
Within seconds… nothing remained.
Only faint crimson ash drifting through the branches.
Leonar stood frozen.
He looked around.
The forest was as it had been.
The fire still burned.
But the man… was gone.
He whispered to himself:
“…Was that real?”
No answer came.
After a long moment, Leonar crushed the fire beneath his foot and began walking back toward the village.
The night was calm…
but his mind was anything but.
Thoughts collided within him—
the queen’s death,
the princess’s fate,
the bond of blood…
and the trees.
He walked without noticing the path.
Until suddenly—
The sound of galloping hooves broke through the silence.
He lifted his head.
From afar, a rider was racing down the mountain road like an arrow loosed by the wind.
Closer… faster.
The man wore light armor, and over his shoulders a crimson cloak streaked with white.
Royal cavalry.
The rider did not slow.
He charged straight toward Leonar.
At the last possible moment, he shouted:
“Move!”
Leonar leapt aside.
The horse rushed past him—so close the air itself nearly knocked him off his feet.
For a brief second, the rider slowed…
then urged the horse forward again, racing toward the village.
Leonar watched him disappear.
“A royal knight… here?”
These mountain lands rarely saw riders from the palace—
especially not in a village like theirs.
At last, he shook his head.
“Probably just royal business.”
He didn’t want to sink deeper into questions.
Turning away, he continued toward home.
There was only one person he needed now.
His mother.
Maybe… just maybe…
she could make sense of what this night had become.
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