Syre stood before a wide, giant wooden gate. Two men in polished silver armor stood on either side, their spears resting firmly against the stone walls as their sharp eyes studied him.
"What business do you have with the town Heleria?" one of the men asked.
"I'm on my way to Mount Olympus. I'm following the dirt road and for me to keep going I need to get through the town." Syre replied.
"Are you carrying any weapons on you?" the man said as he looked at his wooden katana.
Syre looked down at his wooden katana and then back at the guard. "Only this katana, but it's for my own safety on this journey."
The two guards looked at each other and nodded. One of them shouted, "Open the gate!"
With a deep groan of straining wood and grinding metal, the massive gates slowly opened inward. Syre stepped through, officially entering the town. The atmosphere shifted instantly—stone buildings lined the streets, banners fluttered gently, and the entire place carried a heavy medieval aesthetic.
People filled the roads. Merchants called out to passersby, children ran through the streets with sticks in hand, pretending they were swords, laughing loudly. A dog ran alongside them, tongue hanging out as it barked happily.
"This is my first time in the town, it's nice seeing so many people finding comfort here." He thought to himself as he walked down the street of the town.
His eyes wandered, taking in every detail—the carved stonework, wooden balconies, lanterns hanging from iron hooks. He was amazed by even the smallest details.
Suddenly, a young girl ran straight into him. She slammed into his chest and fell to the ground. Syre immediately dropped his katana and went down on one knee, extending his hand toward her.
"Are you okay?"
The girl grabbed his hand and stood up, quickly wiping dirt from her dress. "Yes mister, I'm sorry for bumping into you."
Syre softly smiled as he let go of her hand and picked up his katana. "It's okay, just be more careful, you could get hurt."
As the girl ran off, Syre noticed something lying on the ground. She had dropped something—a card. A tarot card.
It was The Chariot.
He stared at it for a few seconds before deciding to leave it there and continue down the road.
"The Chariot, I'm familiar with it, I think so… determination and success through willpower or something along those lines. Maybe if someone stumbles upon it, it can be a sign." Syre thought.
He kept walking without stopping until he eventually reached the far end of the town, where another set of walls and gates stood. He looked up at the sky and saw how dark it had become. Night was approaching fast, and traveling at this hour was dangerous.
He decided to stay in town.
"I have no money on me, seems like I'll be sleeping outside today…" Syre muttered to himself.
He wandered through the streets until he found a narrow alleyway. He stepped inside, set his belongings on the cold ground, and slowly lay down in the dirt.
The wind brushed against his skin. It was cold—so very cold. The ground was hard, unforgiving. Every stone pressed against his body, making sleep nearly impossible.
Syre sighed quietly.
"This is going to be a normal thing while on this journey, I should get used to it."
But as he lay there, tears slipped from the corners of his eyes. He tried to stay strong, but he couldn't. He missed his bed. He missed the warmth of his home. He knew this was his choice—but that didn't make it easier.
"I miss you mom…" He muttered.
"Hey kid, what are you doing?" A voice spoke out.
Syre quickly sat up and looked at the man standing before him. "I was going to sleep. Do you need something in this alleyway? I'll move, sorry."
"No it's fine, it's just I don't see many homeless people around the town, especially so young." The man replied.
"I'm not homeless, sir."
"Then why sleep outside, kid? Trying to live some primal life style like our ancestors?"
"No sir, I have a home, but I'm on a joureny to Mount Olympus… I just brought no money with me so I have no where to stay."
"Ah, I see. Many people who pass through here are on a journey to Mount Olympus, but I've never met one so young." the man replied.
"I'm glad I'm the first." Syre said as he softly chuckled.
"What's your plan after leaving town, kid?" The man asked.
"My plan? My plan is to follow the road until I arrive to Mount Olympus, I'll follow the road for as long as I can."
"What happens when you undoubtedly run into a crossroad?"
"I turn to whichever one leads closest to Mount Olympus." Syre answered.
"You follow the road because it's safe right? The safest route, correct?"
Syre nodded.
"Why do you want to go to Mount Olympus, I'm guessing it's to get the scorched heart, right?"
Syre nodded in agreement again.
"What will you do after you reach Mount Olympus? Battle Zeus with no experience? You take the road because it's the safest way to get there, but when you do get there, you won't be ready. Whatever lies in Mount Olympus is worse than any Scorched one out in the woods. Now, I'm not telling you to go off the road and into the woods, that'd be a suicide. What I am telling you is that if you aren't willing to take the risk in the journey, you won't be ready for the end."
Syre stared at the man for a moment. He knew the man was right.
"You're right… If I'm not willing to take the risk maybe I should just go back home."
The man nodded. "You understand kid, how about you stay over at my place and tomorrow morning you head back home?"
"No can do sir, I won't go back home." Syre replied.
"Why are you set on this journey, kid?" The man asked.
"So my father can rest in peace, I will fulfill his goal for him, It's my duty as his one and only son."
"I see—"
Before the man could finish, his body suddenly twitched.
Then it began convulsing.
The man dropped to the ground, his limbs shaking violently. His breathing became erratic as his body seized uncontrollably.
Syre rushed toward him and crouched beside him, panic flooding his chest. He wanted to help—but he had no idea what to do.
Suddenly, the man burst into flames.
Syre stumbled backward in shock. The man screamed in agony as fire consumed him, his body slowly being devoured by burning orange and crimson flames. The heat was intense. The smell of smoke and burning flesh filled the alley.
Within moments, nothing remained.
Only ash.
As Syre stood frozen in horror, the ash began to levitate. It swirled in the air, moving in slow, circular patterns, glowing faintly with heat.
Then, out of the spinning ash, a shape began to form.
A wolf emerged.
Not just any wolf.
Its eyes burned with fire. Its teeth were made of dark, gleaming metal, glowing red at the edges.
The man had turned into a Scorched One.
And now, it stood before Syre—ready to kill him.