Weeks went by with little change to their lives. They ate the same couple of meals every day, worked on the waterway, on gathering plants, brine, fresh water, and worked tirelessly into the night to produce salt and cut and dry as much meat as they could.

  Still, the cold months rapidly approached. The air grew colder, rain clouds lingered in the skies above for longer, and most mornings they woke up to the scent of rain and wet earth.

  It was one of the first days of November, according to their makeshift calendar. The sun was rapidly approaching the horizon. The air was heavy, and storm clouds gathered above. It was going to be yet another rainy night.

  Alaric stood outside the gates, his gaze scouring the forest. His hand gripped the handle of his sword tightly. The soft, white flames shining in the twilight of dusk.

  Bloody hell, Laura! Hurry.

  Laura and two other gatherers were late. With the sun setting sooner every single day, it was somewhat challenging for everyone to make it back before dusk. As a precaution, most people returned an hour or so before the sun set. Laura did the same all the time too – this was an exception.

  “Do you see her?” Martin’s desperate voice rang from above. He was on the wall, trying to spot his wife through the slowly thinning forest canopy.

  “No. Not yet.” Alaric gritted his teeth. Shadows grew longer, and the sun dyed the skies purple. The night was almost upon them. They won’t make it. The thought he tried to suppress surfaced in his mind.

  Do I go out looking?

  That question made him hesitate. He hated himself for it.

  “Fuck.” He hissed as he spotted the lands below the cliff slowly grow dark. The time was up.

  “Open the gate!” He heard a scream. His gaze snapped at the treeline, where two women ran, supporting another who clearly couldn’t walk properly.

  “Laura!” Martin shouted.

  “Hurry!” Alaric shouted. He stepped forward, out of the gate.

  The sky grew dark as the three women approached as quickly as they could. Like an avalanche, the fog rolled out of the dark fortress. He could barely see the lands below the cliff from where he stood. He watched in horror as the fog slowly crept closer.

  Laura’s friend stumbled, then fell. When she did, so did the person they were supporting. Laura let out a small cry in fear as she tried to help her up.

  Howls rose from all around them as the fog crept up closer, coming through the trees like a silent death.

  “Sol, Luna!” Alaric shouted as he ran towards the women. The two wolves rushed past Laura and her friends as they hurled themselves at a silhouette. Yelps and howls broke the silence not a moment later.

  He grabbed Laura’s friend’s arm and pulled her up on her feet, then helped their wounded friend up as well. “Carry her back quickly!” he hissed, letting them walk past him as he slowly began to retreat. Luna and Sol soon emerged unscathed from the thick fog and ran back to be at his side. They crossed the threshold of the gatehouse just a few moments later, just as the fog crept close enough to touch the boundary.

  Heavy footsteps echoed in the silence. A silhouette emerged from the darkness, much taller, and much more menacing than the knights he had faced before. Wyrdflame danced on the figure’s plate armour, on his long cloak that swept the floor behind him, and on the curved blade of his scythe.

  He wore a helmet that reminded Alaric of a crown. It covered his whole face, only allowing his glowing white eyes to be visible. Holding his scythe with his right hand, the figure raised his left hand. Wyrdflame danced between his fingers.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  A searing pain radiated from the brand on his back. A gasp escaped his lips as he nearly dropped his sword. The white hot pain knocked him on his knees. His body refused to move. People shouted his name from afar. He heard the two wolves growling.

  “You carry the Blessing of the Chthonian.” A booming voice echoed. “A rare mortal. I have come to give you a warning, human. You are branded by the Profaned Legion. The gods await the challenge. I am tasked to make this worthy of their time.”

  He struck the ground with the haft of his scythe. “You shall rise to the challenge on the longest night, on the turning of the day, where the once-hallow land has been defiled. Fail to come, and I shall release the Heavenly Host’s wrath upon your nation. Succeed, and I shall grant you a boon. Die, and your people shall be given a second chance.”

  The pain waned. His muscles obeyed his will once more. He scrambled back on his feet.

  OBJECTIVE – SURVIVE THE LEGION COMMANDER’S CHALLENGE ON THE NIGHT OF THE WINTER SOLSTICE

  YOU HAVE DRAWN THE GAZE OF MANY GODS AND DEMONS

  By the time he waved the system’s message away, the Legion Commander was long gone.

  ***

  His hands were still trembling quite a few minutes later as he translated the Legion Commander’s short speech to Charles and the others.

  “I couldn’t move at all.” He finished, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice as best as he could. “It hurt pretty bad.” He added. It wasn’t even so bad when the knight first branded him.

  The pain was gone now, but it was still fresh in his memory, drowning any hope he dared have.

  “You don’t go, we all die. You go, and you die.” Charles clenched his fists. “That’s hardly fair is it?”

  “You don’t know if he’ll die.” Ava hissed. “You have what…” she glanced at the makeshift calendar. “A month and a half. We can find some sort of solution by then.”

  There is no solution. He knew I have no other choice. I must go.

  “I need to lay down a bit.” He mumbled and stood back up from the bench he was sitting on. Jason and the others looked like they wanted to say something, but they didn’t. He walked past them, up the stairs, and into his room. He closed the door, then leaned against it.

  It’s not fair.

  He slid down slowly and sat on the ground.

  It’s not fair.

  The thought repeated in his mind over and over again.

  It’s not fair. Why me? Why do I have to die?

  His heart raced. His chest felt tight. His hands were somewhat numb.

  He clenched his fists. “Do I even stand a chance?” Against the commander, the answer was obviously a resounding no. But against one of the Profaned Knights?

  They were clad in plate mail, were much taller than him, and had however much more experience. “I’m a carpenter, for fuck’s sake!” His voice was but a whisper. He couldn’t fight against one of those monsters. He barely knew how to swing a sword. The only things he killed himself were the wolves. Everything else had been a team effort. Even the knight they fought against, Jason and Ava were the ones who did the most. All he had done was take Cinder and distract the knight.

  How was he supposed to face off against a knight? He couldn’t win in a battle of skill or strength. The only thing he seemed better at was speed, but even that was negligible. And frankly, useless.

  I’m a dead man walking.

  He pressed his hand against chest. He wasn’t surviving the winter solstice. He had no chance. None. Not when escape wasn’t an option. Not unless he somehow managed to become much more powerful.

  Something scratched against the door. A low, sad yelp startled him. He froze for a split second before realising what it was. He forced himself to get up and opened the door.

  Luna and Sol barged in, letting small, quiet howls. He closed the door behind them. “I’m fine.” He lied.

  The wolves’ sharp gazes didn’t leave him as they sat in front of him.

  Don’t look at me like that. There’s nothing I can do.

  Luna growled. Sol clawed at his foot.

  “Yeah, I’m not fine.” Alaric walked around them and sat on the bed. Luna leapt on the sheets without hesitation, while Sol simply turned around to continue watching him. “Good job saving Laura.” He narrowed his eyes. “What happens to you when I’m gone?”

  Sol growled. It wasn’t a low, playful growl like before. It was a guttural sound that showcased his teeth.

  Alaric flinched. He’d never done that before.

  “What I wouldn’t give to understand you…” His voice faded. A dry creak came from the glove as he clenched his right fist. The thought that came to mind was unpleasant. But… perhaps his only chance.

  We can’t lose Cinder and these two. He tried to justify it. “Not that I can pull it off…” he added softly as he watched Sol lay down. Despite his calm appearance, it was clear he was on edge. Luna nudged his hand for pets.

  I can’t leave Clara behind. He had promised her. He had promised so many things to so many people. He couldn’t just accept death.

  I have to try everything.

  His own thoughts gave him little confidence.