Koran's eyes were burning with anger as he looked at the soldier's exposed back. He quickly moved towards him without shouting or saying a word, and stabbed the soldier many times in the back.
It was Koran's good luck that the soldiers of the Valderin kingdom didn't like wearing heavy armor - they said it was heavy and made it hard to move in a fight. If they had been wearing it, the piece of glass wouldn't have gone through the uniform and Koran would be dead now.
The soldier tried to turn around, but after a few moments, he fell on his back. The stab wounds in his body were so many that if he was left like that, he would have died from losing blood, but Koran didn't want to wait.
He climbed on top of the soldier's body, held the piece of glass with both of his bloody hands - some blood was his, the other was the soldier's - and stabbed him hard.
Not in his chest or his stomach, but directly in his face. It was as if Koran wanted to erase the face of a person like him from existence.
The soldier raised his hands at first and tried to fight back, but he soon stopped. He was already dead, but Koran didn't stop stabbing. For him, this wasn't an attempt to kill him - he wasn't even conscious anymore - it was more like trying to let out all the anger he had kept inside.
After minutes and 14 stabs to the face, Koran started to get tired and his movements slowed down, but he started screaming instead. Not with any understandable words, just a wild scream.
Koran stopped when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. It was the hand of the woman he had saved, or rather, the woman he thought he had saved.
"Stop... he's dead. Are you... okay?" the woman spoke in a voice that had both fear and relief in it at the same time.
Koran turned his blood-covered face and looked at the woman with eyes that weren't angry, but more like completely at ease. For him, the stopping of those voices made him feel a little relief.
When the woman saw his features, her own face's expression changed. Koran thought it would be a look of thanks or even hatred for what he had done. But what he saw was something he couldn't understand.
The woman raised her head and then ran away, not because of Koran, but because she saw something worse than him. Two soldiers from the Fifth Kingdom were approaching them.
"It's okay, just a kid who managed to kill a trainee soldier," the first soldier said.
The second soldier examined the body and then replied, "He started from his back, this means the soldier left his defense exposed. But look at his face... we won't even be able to identify the person without a DNA test."
The first soldier laughed and then turned towards Koran.
"Hey, kid... did you do this?"
Koran didn't answer. He just kept looking at the ground without any reaction.
"Hey... I'm talking to you." The soldier shook Koran with his foot, but Koran didn't respond at all.
"This is annoying. Take him with us... He'll be a good project."
The second soldier carried Koran while the first one walked beside him then left.
….
Two hours earlier, in the Third Kingdom…
Neva was in her room, looking through her things for her sword until she found it. It was a shiny sword that showed the details of the fine carvings on it. Its edge was clean and carefully polished, and the handle was designed in a complex way that showed the hands of makers who knew exactly how to balance beauty and function. Its weight felt solid in her hand, and its length gave the impression that it was a weapon made just for Neva herself.
At the same time, Orestos was getting ready downstairs, wearing his battle uniform.
A strong bronze chest plate, a shoulder guard with royal carvings, a wide belt holding short metal plates around the waist, armor for the forearms and legs that allowed movement, and a high-rimmed helmet bearing the mark of his rank.
Mira came to him, her face showing fear.
"Aren't you going to run away with us?"
"If I run away, then who will stay to protect the people?" Orestos replied in a serious tone.
"What about Elios? He's still young," Mira said while looking at the family picture hanging on the wall. Elios was seven years old in that picture, just a child. And that's how he would always remain in his mother's eyes.
Orestos held Mira's head and moved closer to her, his eyes locked onto hers.
"Elios is the King. He must defend his kingdom. But don't be afraid... I won't let anything happen to him."
Then he kissed her forehead as she cried. He held her hand tightly, as if he wanted to remember how it felt before going to hell.
"I need to talk to her before I leave," Orestos said.
Mira nodded and went up with him to Neva's place. Neva was gathering the rest of her things when she heard the door open.
She turned quickly, surprised to see her father standing in front of her. Orestos broke the silence first.
"Beautiful sword... Take care of it."
Neva replied with a weak smile on her face, hiding the tears that had built up.
"It was a gift from you, so don't worry... I'll take care of it."
Orestos laughed, then added,
"Hah... You've grown too old for my hugs. Or do you hate me now..."
Before he could finish his sentence, Neva quickly jumped into his arms and started crying.
"I'm sorry, Dad... I didn't mean to do that to Elie."
Orestos realized that Neva had heard his conversation with Mira. That wasn't something a child was supposed to hear in any case. He put his hand on her hair and stroked it, then said in a gentle voice,
"It's not your fault."
Even though they were just five simple words, they were all Neva needed to hear. She didn't say any words after that; she just let out everything that was inside her - all the regret, all the sadness, all the pain.