Besides Valen, there wasn't a single soul in the room capable of lifting a blade. That simple truth weighed heavily in the air, thickening the dread that curled in the corners of their minds.
But Valen stood firm.
He no longer trembled at the thought of confrontation. The fear he once felt, when he failed to land a single strike on his instructor, had vanished.
Whether it was instinct or resolve, something within him had shifted.
Perhaps it was the looming presence of death.
Perhaps it was the quiet understanding that if he faltered, others would fall.
Whatever the reason, his eyes no longer wavered.
He clutched the hilt of his blade tightly, his stance unshaken. His heartbeat was steady. The stillness in his gaze mirrored the steel in his grip.
Then, a faint sound echoed before a shadow emerged on the veil.
Valen moved before he even registered the figure.
He swung his sword, the sword making an arc as it loomed over the intruder's neck.
"Ahh—!"
A yelp of fear burst out as the figure stumbled and collapsed to the ground, clutching his head in terror.
Valen froze just before the strike could land.
The blade hovered inches from soft flesh.
"Elior," Valen muttered, lowering his weapon, relief mixed with caution in his tone.
The room exhaled with him. A few gasps of recognition and ease rippled through the others present.
"Young… master…" Elior's voice quivered, barely audible. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, eyes wide and shimmering with panic.
"What happened?" Valen stepped forward. "Speak, Elior."
The young elf looked as though his tongue had turned to stone. Sweat glistened along his jaw, and his lips parted soundlessly as he struggled to form the words.
Then, with great effort, he whispered hoarsely, "The… the Lord… your father, has given a command…"
Valen's brows furrowed. "A command?"
Elior nodded, swallowing hard. "You… you are to escape. Through the eastern passage… the secret trail beyond the crystal grove. Now, before it's too late."
Valen's expression turned sharp. "What are you saying? I will not abandon my people…. Or my father!"
"It's his order, Master Valen," Elior pressed, his voice cracking. "He said…. he said if you stayed, everything would be in vain."
A heavy silence followed.
The others in the room could tell that the situation outside was perilous. If the lord has given such a command, then it must mean their defeat was inevitable.
However, Valen couldn't accept this command. Even if staying meant death, he would rather die than abandon his people and flee.
The people in the room could see through his reluctance.
Elior felt helpless.
Then, his mother's voice broke through the silence.
"Valen," she said gently, forcing herself to speak, "this is not cowardice. This is survival. You are our future… our last hope."
Valen turned his face to face her, jaw clenched. "But I can fight. I won't run like a—"
"You will live," she interrupted, her tone firm despite the tears threatening to fall. "For them. For us."
Even though her complexion was pale and sickly, her eyes were full of hope. Her blood-stained lips revealed a soft smile.
Seeing her, Valen's fists trembled. His blade dropped a few inches.
"Then let's leave together…" Valen asked.
But she didn't respond. She smiled as she shook her head.
Valen understood.
Then, slowly and hesitantly, he nodded.
She then faced the other servants and said, "You should leave too…"
Later, the sound of the burning filled the air like a distant roar. Smoke curled against the midnight sky.
Valen stood on a cliffside, high above the valley. His clothes were stained with dirt; his breathing ragged from the run. Dirt smeared his elegant visage while tears filled his eyes.
Below, nestled in the trees, was his home engulfed in flames.
Fires devoured the village he had grown up in, the place where he had laughed, trained, and lived.
Thick plumes of smoke spiraled into the heavens. Faint silhouettes, too distant to distinguish, darted within the chaos. Screams blurred into the crackling inferno.
Seeing this made his heart hollow as if someone had carved a hole inside.
He gritted his teeth as he stared at his burning village with eyes full of tears. Though he felt intense grief, he didn't let out a single shriek.
He stood there watching his village burn, the agonizing scream of the villagers mixed with the tranquil silence of the night.
"Young master—" Elior mumbled. He could tell his master was suffering. Though he didn't shed a tear, he could tell he was having a hard time.
Sob! Sob!
Lina, on the other hand, couldn't refrain from tearing up upon seeing her home plunged in flames. Her knees felt weak, and she dropped to the ground as she wept.
Besides, Valen and Elior, Lina had also escaped along with them. However, others had decided to remain behind.
Valen gritted his teeth as hot tears stung his eyes. Then, with an expression ridden with pain and rage, he uttered, "Let's go!"
**** ****
Valen's eyes flared open as a sudden warmth surged through his chest. For a moment, he remained still, staring up into the green canopy above.
Sunlight pierced through the dense leaves in golden beams, one of which struck his face, forcing him to squint. He lifted an arm to shield his eyes, his breathing slow and steady.
The same dream again.
No... not a dream. A memory.
That night was still vivid. The howls, the flames, the choking smoke. The helplessness. He couldn't forget them even if he wished.
He sat up with a muted groan, brushing away a few fallen leaves that clung to his tunic. The forest around him was calm. Birds chirped somewhere in the distance, and a breeze rustled the branches above.
"The same nightmare," he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand across his face.
Beside him, Elior and Lina slept soundly, curled near the base of an old tree. Their faces had grown thinner, their clothes more worn.
It had been moons since the fire.
Since they had fled the wreckage of their home.
Since Valen had made a vow.
To grow stronger.
To avenge.