[The following day]
Kona woke up.
The yellow-colored sky had just welcomed the sun, and its light was flickering between the leaves.
In the distance, the fresh morning breeze accompanied the sound of raucous laughter and dirty jokes.
He was sitting curled up in a small wooden cage, alongside a few boxes on top of a begrimed wagon.
Surrounding the cart were the intricate trees of the forest, and the last remnants of a night camp.
What happened? I tried attacking him, then...
His memory failed him. Where the hell was he? What had happened to Junas?
Writhing, he tried to get a better look around. A large number of men, about thirty of them, were busy dismantling tents and tarps, shouting and laughing.
Among these thugs, who were all wearing a familiar black leather armor, a colossal man stood out: bare-chested and towering, he was giving orders left and right, making sure his minions operated properly.
That's the giant father was fighting...
While Kona was busy observing that bustling crowd, a sudden knock shook him.
"Well, look at that! The prince has awakened!"
One of the mercenaries, a tall slender man, observed him with a sharp gaze.
"Aye, Commander! The kid is wide-awake!"
The giant turned towards them abruptly, immediately approaching them.
"Good morning, White Prince! How are you doing this morning? Would you perhaps fancy some tea?"
The ogre erupted in a boisterous laugh, so much so that Kona thought the trees would start shaking. After dismissing his subordinate, that beast introduced himself:
"Alright, kid. I suppose your father didn't tell you anything about me."
Kona, tense, shook his head.
"Of course. Well then, my name is Krulls, but some call me 'Grim Reaper's Right Hand'."
He smiled.
"Your father used to work under my command before you were born, you know? He helped me kill people."
A wide grin had now deformed Krulls' face, and Kona was now tightly gripping the cage's bars.
"But who cares about your father? Let's talk about you, instead. As you can probably tell, I've kidnapped you and put you in a cage."
The commander's satisfied expression had Kona on the brink of tears. He tried to say something, but the words wouldn't come out.
"Oh, you don't have to worry. I have no interest in killing you, for now. You see, while I was trying to behead your father, something interesting happened! I'm sure you know what I'm talking about, kid."
Kona although petrified, managed to slightly shake his head.
Krulls' grin disappeared.
"Do not dare lie to me, you filthy brat."
His massive jaw clenched tightly.
"To stop me, you did something no other warrior had ever done before. Something I myself had never seen. This is what you have to do, kid. Firstly, you will tell me what you did. Secondly, you will tell me how you did it."
Kona, terrified, looked down to the ground. His gaze, fixed on the wooden planks, trembled.
"You have a few days to gather your thoughts. When we arrive to our destination, I expect you to tell me exactly what I want."
He leaned in, his bandaged face right up to the cage, and whispered.
"Who knows, if you behave like a good boy, I may even spare you."
The colossal man left, shouting and swearing against his subordinates, the massive dark blade swaying as he walked.
Soon enough, the camp had been dismantled, and the caravan began moving north-west, slowly advancing through the convoluted wildwood.
Kona was left alone, the shaky wagon and the rustling leaves his only companions.
Father, mother... What has happened to you?
Are you alive...?
The kid tried to put in order the confused memories of the previous day.
His father was fighting Krulls, in the village's square. His mother, he'd heard her scream in the crowd. Then...
I tried to attack him, then...
Just then, a vision struck through Kona's mind.
A blinding flash.
A pair of flaming, porcelain eyes.
Suddenly, a sharp pain cut through his head, forcing him to the ground.
And the memories of the brawl returned.
He saw his glowing pupils, blazing as he bent an enormous amount of Flow to his will.
He saw the hurricane.
He saw the fire.
And he saw that, in the middle of that storm, Krulls had stopped.
How did I do that? That's ridiculous...
Gripping the cell's bars to sit upright, the kid pondered.
Krulls had asked about something in particular, something impressive, it seemed. Not only that, it was the Flow cyclone that had stopped him, despite having no tangible effect.
Does that mean... He can see it too?
The swaying motion of the wagon accompanied the boy's thoughts.
A few hours later, the sun partially hiding in the distance, they reached the edge of the forest.
The last few trees and the sparse shrubs, thinning out, opened up to the horizon in the far north.
A stretch of fields opened up before the caravan: they perched and tangled over the rolling hills, and among them a narrow cobblestone road, depleted and crumbled, twisted and turned.
It headed north, through the land's ups and downs, towards a large river, barely visible under the horizon.
As Kona tried biting that strange, smelly stuff they'd given him to eat, a plan started forming into his mind.
A plan to keep moving forward.
A plan to escape.