The heir's redemption

Acts Of Kidness

The shot echoed, fading into the trees. Ward crouched behind the rock, Elara’s hand tight on his arm. The gray-haired man lay still, blood pooling under him. The red gem pulsed in Ward’s pocket, its heat spreading up his side. His birthmark stung, a sharp echo to the stone’s rhythm. “Who fired?” Elara whispered, her voice shaking. Ward shook his head, peering into the brush. Footsteps crunched, then stopped. The mountain held its breath. He pulled her closer, bow ready. The shooter was gone—or waiting.

Minutes passed. No sound came. Ward stood, helping Elara up. Her scarf hung loose, her face pale. “We need to move,” he said. She nodded, glancing at the body. “He worked for Rand. I know that coat.” Ward’s stomach tightened. Rand again—the tycoon from the reward posters. The gem’s curse, Helena’s theft, now this. He grabbed the man’s pistol, tucking it into his belt. “Let’s get back,” he muttered. Elara followed, her steps quick.

The climb to the cabin felt longer, the air cold against his skin. His leg ached from the fight, the cut on his side throbbing. Elara stayed close, her silence heavy. Inside, Grandfather met them at the door, knife in hand. His eyes flicked to the pistol, then the blood on Ward’s shirt. “Trouble followed,” he said. Ward nodded, guiding Elara in. Helena stood by the fire, her face tightening at the sight of her. “You brought her?” she snapped. Ward ignored her, dropping onto a chair. “She knows about the gem.”

Grandfather closed the door, barring it. “Tell me,” he said to Elara. She took a breath, her hands steadying. “My father works with Rand Enterprises. The gem was in a vault—stolen weeks ago. It’s tied to a secret, something my father won’t explain. That man was his guard.” Helena crossed her arms, her green eyes hard. “I took it to escape. They’ll kill me for it.” Ward rubbed his birthmark, the sting growing. “Why me?” he asked. Elara’s gaze softened. “That mark. It’s the same as the vault’s seal.”

The room went quiet. Ward stared at her, the words sinking in. The birthmark—a key? Grandfather’s face darkened, his hand tightening on the knife. “You’re sure?” he asked. Elara nodded. “The seal’s old, carved into the vault door. My father said it belonged to the family who built Rand’s empire.” Ward’s mind spun. Family? His parents had vanished, leaving him with Grandfather. The gem, the mark—it pointed to something buried deep. A plot twist unfolded, linking him to the tycoon.

Before he could speak, a knock sounded. Soft, hesitant. Ward tensed, raising the pistol. Grandfather moved to the window, peering out. “A boy,” he said. Ward lowered the weapon, opening the door a c***k. A thin figure stood there, no older than twelve, his clothes patched. “Please,” the boy said, voice small. “My sister’s sick. We need help.” Ward glanced at Grandfather, who nodded. He stepped outside, the boy leading him to a shack nearby.

Inside, a girl lay on a mat, her face flushed with fever. The room smelled of damp earth, a single candle flickering. The boy’s eyes pleaded. “She won’t eat,” he said. Ward knelt, feeling her forehead. Hot. He turned to the boy. “Water. Now.” The boy fetched a cup, hands trembling. Ward tipped it to the girl’s lips, her weak swallow a relief. “I’ll get herbs,” he told the boy. “Stay with her.”

Back at the cabin, he grabbed a pouch from Grandfather’s shelf. Helena watched, her expression unreadable. “Why help them?” she asked. Ward paused. “Because I can,” he said simply. He returned to the shack, mixing the herbs into a paste. The girl stirred, her breathing easing. The boy hugged him, tears in his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered. Ward patted his shoulder, a warmth spreading despite the pain.

Dusk fell, the sky turning purple. Ward limped back, the pistol heavy. Inside, Elara sat by the fire, sketching the gem’s seal on a scrap of paper. “This mark,” she said, showing him. The shape matched his birthmark perfectly—three curved lines forming a circle. “It’s a sign of the first heir,” she added. “Rand’s been searching for his lost son.” Ward’s heart stopped. Lost son? Grandfather turned away, his silence loud.

Before Ward could press, a crash came from the ridge. He rushed to the window. Flames licked the trees, smoke rising fast. “Fire!” he shouted. Elara grabbed a bucket, Grandfather following. Helena stayed back, her face pale. They ran outside, the heat hitting them. The blaze spread, driven by the wind. Ward filled the bucket, tossing water onto the flames. Elara worked beside him, her movements quick. Grandfather shouted directions, his voice steady.

The fire grew, sparks flying. Ward’s leg buckled, the cut weakening him. Then a figure emerged from the smoke—tall, cloaked, holding a torch. “Give the gem!” he yelled, throwing the torch into the brush. The flames leaped higher. Ward raised the pistol, firing. The man ducked, vanishing. The shot echoed, but the fire raged on. Elara pulled Ward back. “It’s a trap!” she cried.

They fought the blaze, water splashing uselessly. The wind shifted, pushing the fire toward the cabin. Helena appeared, holding a blanket. “Use this!” she shouted, beating at the flames. Ward stared, surprised. Her help felt real, not the mockery he remembered. The fire slowed, but the ridge burned bright. Grandfather grabbed Ward’s arm. “They want us out,” he said. “The gem’s drawing them.”

Night deepened, the fire under control but the ridge a smoldering scar. Ward sat inside, the pistol on the table. Elara traced the seal again, her face thoughtful. “If you’re the heir,” she said, “Rand will claim you—or kill you.” Helena paced, her voice low. “They’ll burn everything to get this stone.” Ward touched his birthmark, the heat gone but the truth sinking in. He was tied to Rand, to the gem’s curse.

Then a shadow moved outside. Ward grabbed the pistol, peering through the broken window. A man stood there, face hidden, holding a letter. He slid it under the door and left. Ward picked it up, hands steady. The paper bore a single line: “The heir must die. Bring the gem to the valley by dawn.” His breath caught. A fascinating cliffhanger loomed—the threat now personal, the deadline set.