Page 1
A starless night.
In the heart of a dense forest where two rivers meet in silence, a lonely wooden shack stands—the last warm place in a cold world.
A faint yellow light creeps through a small window. Steam from food rises slowly into the freezing air, then vanishes as if it never existed.
Page 2
Inside the cabin, the fire dances on the walls, casting warm shadows.
Maria stands near the hearth, her back to the reader. She stirs the pot with a calmness that isn't real—the calmness of someone trying desperately not to think.
On the floor sits the Father, cross-legged, holding the infant in his arms. He tickles the baby's belly with rough, scarred fingers—fingers that made war for years and are now learning, for the first time, how to touch with tenderness.
Page 3
Close-up on the infant's face.
His mouth is wide open, letting out a laugh that knows nothing of fear, wars, or what waits outside that door.
The Father pulls him close to his chest, eyes closed. A smile he had forgotten long ago finally returns to his tired face.
In the background, Maria's shoulders rise slightly. A muffled giggle she doesn't want to end.
A single, perfect moment. As if the world outside has stopped out of respect.
Page 4
Suddenly.
The smile vanishes from the Father's face.
He doesn't move. He doesn't speak. His eyes snap open, staring intensely into the void in front of him.
The frame grows darker. Shadows retreat. Even the firelight seems to dim.
It is as if something has entered the cabin without opening the door.
Page 5
Shot of a small jar on the shelf.
It trembles slightly.
Next frame: The vibration intensifies.
Final frame: The Father looks to the left. His eyes are wide. Terrified.
Page 6
[Silent Page]
The Father places his hand on the floor. He feels the vibration growing beneath his fingertips—a merciless, rhythmic thumping.
Maria stops cooking. She looks at him.
The infant falls silent. His small eyes widen as if he understands something the adults do not.
Page 7
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
Heavy drums echo from the depths of the forest. Every beat is closer than the last.
Between the trees, many shadows move. Red torches pierce the darkness like predatory eyes.
Flocks of birds erupt from the canopy, flying frantically, fleeing from something yet unseen.
Page 8
The Father stands up.
He scoops the infant into his arms, wrapping him in a woolen blanket with desperate speed, yet his hands do not shake.
Maria reaches out to him. Her eyes ask the question she cannot voice: Where?
His eyes answer: Don't ask. Just trust me.
He whispers in a hoarse voice, as if afraid the forest itself might hear:
"The drums of the Shalobi Kingdom."
Maria covers her mouth with her hands. Her face turns deathly pale.
Page 9
Maria speaks in a broken voice:
"I don't care… I want my child."
The Father looks at her for a long moment before speaking:
"If this ends well… I will come back for him. I promise."
A heavy silence.
Maria lowers her head. She kisses the infant's forehead—a long, lingering kiss. Her tears fall onto his small face; he doesn't understand why his mother is crying.
The Father quietly opens the back door.
Page 10
The night outside is biting cold. The Father's breath turns into white mist that vanishes instantly.
The river before him is black and silent. The water moves slowly, as if breathing.
He pulls a small wooden plank to the riverbank. He places the infant upon it with hands that shouldn't be capable of such gentleness—but they are.
Page 11
He hesitates.
He gazes at his son's face in the pale moonlight. A face that has yet to learn the meaning of fear.
The infant reaches out his tiny hand and grabs his father's finger. He holds it with a strength strange for a child his size.
A single tear falls from the Father's eye.
He whispers in a trembling voice:
"Goodbye… my child. I will return… I will definitely return."
Page 12
The plank drifts away with the current. Slowly. Into the unknown.
A small necklace hangs from the infant's neck, gleaming under the moon.
Close-up: The name "MABO" is engraved upon it.
The child reaches his tiny hand toward the darkness. Toward the receding cabin. Toward the Father standing on the bank like a motionless statue.
The Father does not move. He remains there until the plank vanishes into the shadows.
Then, he turns back.
Page 13
He enters the cabin and closes the door behind him.
Maria is putting on her armor—a light woman's set covered in old scratches. Every scratch is a story she doesn't want to remember tonight.
She looks at him. Her eyes ask without words.
He nods: Yes. It's them.
"We must fight."
Page 14
The Father grips his sword from the wall.
He runs his hand over the cold blade. His tired face is reflected in the steel for a moment; he stares at himself as if asking: Am I ready?
He turns to Maria and kisses her brow.
"We defended this peace with our own hands… and we won't let it be taken easily."
Before he can finish, a sound from outside cuts him off.
Page 15
A horse's whinny pierces the silence of the night.
Outside the cabin, a massive man sits atop a black stallion. A small golden crown rests on his head. His face carries the smile of a man who does not know how to lose.
Beside him, a boy no older than ten sits on a white horse. His eyes are unnaturally calm for a child his age. No fear. No curiosity. Nothing.
Page 16
Behind them, an army.
Orange armor stretches between the trees as far as the eye can see. Yellow banners flutter in the cold air.
A massive banner stands at the front: "The Shalobi Clan – Pure Gold."
Page 17
A soldier steps forward and shouts:
"King Boomer… we have arrived!"
Boomer raises his hand slowly. The army halts.
He smiles—a cold smile that never reaches his eyes.
Page 18
Boomer's voice fills the forest:
"Traitorous General… come out if you are a man! Or we shall burn this cabin with everyone inside."
Silence.
Then, the cabin door slowly creaks open.
Page 19
The Father emerges.
His orange armor gleams under the torches. The same color. The same clan. He was once one of them.
Maria is behind him, her sword raised. Her face is steady despite the tears that just dried.
The Father looks at Boomer with tired but unbreakable eyes:
"I swore an oath never to kill again. Do not force me to break it, Boomer."
Page 20
Boomer laughs—a loud, forced laugh that echoes through the trees.
He turns to his son, Kazuko:
"Look, my son… this is the coward I told you about. He fought under my command in all my wars, slaughtered my enemies with those very hands… then fled like a rat. For what? For a woman whose lineage is worth nothing? For a girl abandoned by her own people?"
Kazuko looks at the Father. No hatred on his face. No disdain. Nothing. Just a hollow gaze, watching and recording.
Boomer points his finger:
"The law of our clan is clear. The traitor must die."
Page 21
The Father falls silent for a moment. His eyes scan the soldiers coldly.
"Then… come."
He raises his sword slowly. He takes a combat stance for the first time in a full year.
His body remembers what his mind tried to forget.
Page 22
"Attack!"
The soldiers surge forward like a flood.
The first soldier reaches him, striking with force. The Father dodges with unexpected agility, as if his body is moving on its own. Sparks fly as the blades clash.
In the same breath, a small hidden blade from his sleeve pierces the soldier. He falls.
Page 23
The battle ignites.
Rapid shots: The Father fights with a quiet ferocity. Maria deflects blows with difficulty.
A massive soldier strikes Maria with his iron gauntlet. She falls. Her sword spins away.
Boomer claps from atop his horse as if watching a play:
"Do you see this, Kazuko?"
The brute looms over Maria, his fist raised high.
Then, his head falls.
Blood splatters across Maria's face. The Father stands behind the corpse, his sword stained, his breath ragged. But his eyes are still razor-sharp.
Page 24
He reaches out his hand to Maria.
She reaches back, her face smeared with blood and tears.
Their fingers are about to meet.
Suddenly, Maria's eyes widen. She looks behind him and screams in a choked voice:
"Watch out!"
Behind the Father, a third soldier is charging at full speed, his sword raised high, aiming for the back of his neck.
The Father doesn't see him.
There is no time to turn.
Death comes from behind…
[END OF CHAPTER 1]
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Author: Abdraouf
Email: [email protected]
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