Blades of Grass

Saga 1 - Home

Blades of grass brushed against my armored shin as I roamed a flourishing meadow. Smoke stacks rose behind the woods, staining the already gray sky. My mind rushed with memories of home, now a charred shadow of its former self. As I crossed the woods, guilt gnawed at me. The calamity that had befallen my village—was it my fault?

A crack of white light struck my eyes as the forest ended. I stumbled into the burning remains of my peaceful home. The scent of charred bodies shattered my strength, and I fell to my knees, nearly fainting. Flashbacks flooded my vision: the Entity and his minions, grotesque and relentless, tearing through my people; my brave knight commander charging into battle, while flames of arson and murder spread unchecked. The horde of hideous, deformed creatures overwhelmed us all.

The king's order echoed in my ears: "Retreat!" Sir Reginald had taken the responsibility of shielding me, sacrificing himself as the minions crowded our path. His sword, struggling to pierce their thick, decayed flesh, was no match for their numbers. He fell, and I had no choice but to flee.

I fled far beyond the kingdom, now consumed by destruction and death.

Resting by a campfire, regret gnawed at me—regret for leaving, for not fighting harder, for not saving anyone. But as dawn cracked, the red robins' iconic song stirred something deep inside me, flooding my mind with memories of sitting on the balcony with my mother. The sun's gentle warmth kissed the fields of wheat, bringing life to the grain and power to the people. The birds had sung then too, their sweet melodies a balm to the spirit.

And then, like a sharp shock to my skull, a vision struck. A memory—of the old book Mother used to read to me.

"What... what's this doing here?" I muttered in disbelief. "The Legend of the Mighty Beast? I thought it was just a myth... Could this be the answer?"

An overwhelming urge took hold. "I must return to the castle library."

So here I am, tearing through the rubble, searching for that forsaken book.

"I can't believe a children's story might save the entire realm," I muttered.

A faint green glow pulsed beneath a pile of stone. I scrambled, nearly tripping as I uncovered it. The glow was coming from within the very book I sought. As I touched it, the pages flew open, stopping on one in particular. It was the passage where the hero discovers Mount Sarcus and the legendary sword—Excalibur. The blade, so powerful that only the worthy could wield it, forged by the gods themselves.

"How am I supposed to carry that?" I whispered. "I'm not even a knight... There must be a way to earn their favor."

Pacing back and forth, I wracked my brain for a way to prove my worth, but the thought of gaining divine approval seemed impossible.

With a sigh, I conceded, "I have no choice but to try. Perhaps the journey itself will lead me to the answer."

I set out at once, my heart heavy with grief for my people. Armed with only my battered chainmail and a semi-blunt sword, I hunted for food as I wandered. The last meal I'd eaten was before the attack. Deep within a mysterious forest, the sound of giggling echoed around me. Ignoring it, I focused on tracking game, but soon, war cries pierced the air. Goblins dropped from the trees.

"Goblins..." I sighed. "I should've known."

They poured down in droves, surrounding me. It seemed like the end was near—until a magical arrow found its mark, sinking into one of their chests. The goblin fell with a heavy thud. The others scattered in panic, recognizing the danger. I turned, startled, and found myself face to face with a dazzling figure—an elven archer, her skills as impressive as her beauty.