Fate of the Marked

Impatience

After finishing my brew, I headed down below deck. The chill outside had seeped into my bones, and the warmth of the cabin was a welcome relief. The air smelled faintly of sea salt and damp wood, but it was better than freezing above.

I spotted Eryon sitting on a sturdy crate, gently patting the dark feathers of his crow companion, Moara. The bird shifted slightly, its gleaming eyes catching the light as it ruffled its wings. I made my way over and sat beside him.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

Eryon glanced at me, his expression as calm as ever. "It's fine. No need to worry about it."

Moara cawed softly, hopping closer to me on Eryon's shoulder.

"He likes you," Eryon said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "He doesn't usually take to strangers. Guess you're good."

I smirked and offered a small nod toward the bird. "Thank you, Moara."

For a moment, silence stretched between us, filled only by the creaking of the ship and the gentle roll of waves. My attention shifted to Eryon, his gaze distant as he absently scratched Moara's head.

"What brought you all the way here?" I asked. "From your land to the capital city?"

He sighed, the weight of his story evident in his expression. "It's my home," he began, his voice low but steady. "A forest, deep and ancient. My clan has lived there for centuries—generations of peace, harmony, and survival. The trees fed us, the rivers nourished us, and the land provided everything we ever needed."

He paused, his hand tightening into a fist on his lap. "But after the war took my continent, it changed. The forest... it's dead now. Dry. For the first time in our history, it's useless. The rivers don't flow, the trees are brittle and rotting, and the land can't grow so much as a weed."

I frowned, the weight of his words sinking in.

"My people are starving," he continued. "And if that wasn't enough, the soldiers—armies loyal to the conquerors—raid our village constantly. They take everything we have left. The women, the children... my mother."

His voice faltered, and he clenched his jaw, the tension radiating off him. "I swore I'd stand and protect my village until the day I died. But when they took my mother..." He exhaled sharply, his hand trembling slightly before he steadied it. "I knew standing there wouldn't fix anything. My father's last wish was for me to take revenge. To find the one responsible for all this chaos and end them."

I leaned forward, my grip tightening on my staff. "And who's responsible?"

He turned to me, his dark eyes burning with determination. "Astoroth," he said. "The Wrath Demon. The conqueror of the world."

The name sent a chill through me, colder than the winds above deck.

Eryon's voice softened, but the fire in his tone remained. "The elder of my village said this continent is the last one standing. If Astoroth falls, maybe—just maybe—there's a chance for my people to live again. And the only way to meet him... is to be here. At the capital city. That's why I'm here."

His words hung heavy in the air, the weight of his mission mirroring the one I carried. For the first time, I saw beyond his stoic demeanor and temper—his pain, his drive, and the hope buried beneath it all.

I tilted my head slightly, offering a small smile. "Then we should stick together. We have the same destination. My name is Thalia, by the way. I haven't properly introduced myself."

Eryon nodded in acknowledgment. "Nice to meet you, Thalia." His tone was warm but steady.

I continued, "If you're coming with me, you're also coming with Rowan."