The town of Briarhold stretched around them like a vast, sleeping body-still and quiet beneath the gray light of late afternoon. The sounds of the market, footsteps on cobblestones, creaking carts-all felt familiar. Yet something in the air had shifted.
That day, Edric and Victor had left the camp for a simple exchange-a bundle of leather for linen thread and metal hooks. Nothing unusual. They walked side by side, Edric ahead, Victor a step behind. They cut through a block by taking a narrow alley.
At a crossroads, Edric slowed. His gaze caught a face. Just for a moment. Black beard, scar above the brow, a necklace of dirty wooden beads. He blinked. The man was gone.
"Did you see him?" Edric asked, suddenly tense.
"Who?" Victor replied.
But there was no time for answers. A sharp blow landed on Edric's shoulder-a fire of pain shooting up his arm. He staggered back, drawing his blade, ready to fight. Three others appeared. Rough-looking men, unshaven, not thieves-men who knew how to strike. One lunged at Victor, pinning him against the wall.
"Damn it!" Edric shouted before being grabbed around the waist. Two on him. He shoved one away, swung an elbow at the other, but a third struck his leg. He dropped to his knees.
Victor struggled, four against one. He kneeled, clawed, scratched, fought like a cornered animal. But blows rained down-on his face, ribs, side. He folded, gasping, blood dripping from his mouth. No pleading, only trembling legs every time he tried to rise.
"Leave him!" Edric roared, rising with furious strength. "He's just a kid!"
One of the men stepped forward, threatening.
"We know that, old dog. This is for you. So you never forget."
They yanked Victor up by the hair. The boy growled, legs shaky, cheeks smeared with blood, one eyebrow split, lip torn.
"No..." Edric tried to stand, but a strike to the back of his knee sent him down again. Rage and helplessness burned in him. Then his eyes locked on the man holding Victor. The black beard. The scar. One of those from the forest. Edric had wounded him before-thought he'd killed him.
"This is for our brother. You left him to rot in the rain."
Victor spat blood, his head still held back.
"I don't know who you are, damn it..."
"You'll remember. And he will too."
They pulled out a knife. Short. Dirty. And slowly, they advanced.
Victor lifted his head. His left eye already bruised black. He looked at Edric, straight in the eyes. He understood.
They were about to take something from him.
He barely had time to whisper in broken breath, "Don't worry, Ed..."
But he didn't finish.
The knife plunged. A single, piercing scream.
Victor screamed-a sound that chilled Edric to the bone. Then nothing. Just a low, guttural moan.
They let him go. He collapsed, curling in on himself, one hand pressed against his left eye. Blood poured between his fingers-a thick, dark stream.
Edric screamed. Fought back, pushing a man away. But the attackers were already fleeing, laughing.
"Remember, dog. Every time you look at his face."
Edric rushed to Victor. The boy trembled, curled tight, fingers clenched on his bloody face. Edric dropped to his knees, trembling, cupping Victor's face gently. He peeled back Victor's hand.
He swallowed hard. The eyeball was gone. Only a swollen, red, gruesome hollow remained.
"Victor... damn... kid..."
Victor grimaced, trying a weak smile.
"Hope Emma prefers my right profile."
Pain cut his breath short. He whimpered, stiffened, then his forehead fell against Edric's chest.
"It's over. You hear me? I'm taking you back. You're alive."
Victor clenched his teeth, shaking. Blood kept oozing, sticky and warm.
Edric rose, wrapped his arms around him, lifted him up. He staggered under the weight-and the horror. But he walked. He would walk to camp. To Adam. To healing.
He wouldn't let him die. He wouldn't let this memory be the last.
---
The camp was silent as Edric and Victor approached-Edric carrying the other like a burden too heavy.
Adam was the first to see them. He lowered his lantern, furrowed his brow, breath catching as he recognized Victor's broken form. His gaze met Edric's-frozen, weighed down by grief. The red smear on Victor's cheek made Adam flinch. He rubbed his own scar instinctively.
He remembered the terror of nearly losing his eye. Now it was Victor's turn.
Victor-barely twenty.
The boy he'd taught to use a bow.
The one who'd clung to him not long ago, terrified of losing Emma.
Anger surged.
Adam threw the lantern to the grass and stepped forward heavily.
"What the hell is this?!" he barked, voice rough.
He grabbed Victor roughly as Edric tried to speak, but Adam cut him off.
"Edric, why is he like this?"
His fists clenched so tight the knuckles turned white, but his eyes never left Victor-on that dark stain that marred his face.
"What happened?"
Edric opened his mouth, hesitated, searching for words.
"An ambush. They were waiting... I thought I recognized one of them..."
But Adam barely heard him. The anger was too loud.
"How come HE's the one to lose an eye ? Dammit, Edric, you're the veteran! How could you let this happen?"
He ran, carrying Victor as if every step might lose him.
"Hold on, damn it. You're not leaving us now."
He entered his tent without slowing, laying Victor gently but firmly on the bed.
Moments later, Emma came running, breathless.
She knelt beside Victor, trembling hands searching for his.
"What's wrong with him?" she whispered, voice breaking.
Adam turned away, rummaging through his kit, jaw clenched.
"An ambush in the city. We need to stitch it up-fast."
Emma swallowed, tears threatening, but she stayed silent.
Adam began cleaning the wound, his hands steady though trembling now and then.
Victor murmured faintly:
"Adam... I..."
"Shut up," Adam cut him off without looking up. "If you talk, I'll finish you myself. Just breathe."
Heavy silence fell.
When he was done, Adam gently brushed dark strands from Victor's forehead. He had fallen asleep-or passed out.
"Now, you're not pulling that on me, little brother. You're not going anywhere."
That low, tender voice cracked the first fissure in his anger.
Emma squeezed Victor's hand tighter, too afraid to speak. Adam turned to her.
"He'll probably run a fever tonight and tomorrow," he said softly. "I'm close by. Come get me if anything happens, okay?"
Emma nodded.
Outside, Edric stood alone, fists clenched, breath shallow. He had walked to the trees and, under the weight, vomited, unable to hold it in any longer.