Throne of Ashes (Fire And Blood Saga I)

Chapter 3: Cassel, I

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It was a gray day.

Morning had turned into afternoon, and night would soon be making its presence known, but the sky refused to clear. The sun, hidden behind smoke and ashes, bid farewell to the day with an indifferent and stoic demeanor, as if no evil had befallen the world.

Cassel continued walking, despite his bare feet aching as never before. A single objective plagued his mind:

To put as much distance as possible between himself and the fire that had ravaged his home.

The heat no longer lingered at his back, but his body felt scorched from the relentless pounding of his feet as exhaustion took hold of his worn-out body. Yet, he had to press on.

His small, frail frame was exhausted from the journey that had just begun. Dirt had permeated his skin, and his reddish-brown hair had darkened with a mix of sweat and ash.

His soft curls clung uncomfortably to his head, but Cassel couldn't afford to dwell on it. He forced himself to keep walking, knowing deep down that if he was safe, he'd at least have a chance to reunite with his family.

Tears quickly welled up in his eyes as he thought of his father, knowing that upon returning home, he wouldn't be among those who'd welcome him with open arms.

He would never receive another hug from his father.

His tears dried as they trickled down his cheeks, sacrificed to the pain that filled his heart. Yet, his feet kept moving forward.

Time passed in a sigh, and soon the trees began to thin out, spacing themselves apart, and leaving behind the forest that had sheltered him. Cassel gazed distractedly at the coastline unfolding before his eyes.

Hours had passed since the sun had dipped behind the trees, beyond the castle he had left behind in what felt like a lifetime. Now, darkness was his only companion.

And it was a silent one.

The sound of waves crashing against the shore reached his ears, and his motivation surged. His gaze, hindered by the darkness, fixed on the coastline, yearning for it like an oasis. His steps, increasingly slow and painful, carried him forward.

Suddenly, his bare feet touched the cold water, and he noticed, distractedly, that they burned, but he couldn't muster the attention. Instead, he collapsed onto the sand, kneeling as his hands eagerly reached for the water.

The water slipped through his fingers as he tried to grasp as much as possible, but he didn't matter, even a little was enough for him. He brought his hands impatiently to his mouth and drank with the thirst of a desperate person.

Cassel spat.

A sharp cough seized him as the water he had drunk seconds before scraped his throat, salty and vile. His eyes welled up with desperation.

A sob escaped his lips, accompanied by a shudder that racked his body.

He was so, so desperate, that a cry echoed across the deserted beach, partially muffled by the waves pounding against the shore.

Cassel's desperate cry remained unanswered.

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Time passed, perhaps minutes or maybe hours, and the water had washed away the dirt from his body, though Cassel hadn't attempted to clean his face. His tears fell uncontrollably down his soot-stained cheeks.