💎A Collision of Fates💎 (Straight to Gay) (MxM) (18+)

129 - Mark and Djaro

Sallow was a beacon in the night, a little haven of light in a vast sea of darkness. But that light was deceptive. That light didn't mean safety. That light was a trap, a nest of vipers. Nothing good was happening in the small, coastal town. Even from the nearby treeline, Mark could see dozens of red-robed cultists patrolling the narrow, cobbled streets. Every so often, a shout would resound through the night, followed by angry, deep voices, followed by silence. No doubt, the loyalists were being hunted, persecuted.

Breck and Nick were beside him. Drappel was huge and strapped to the front of Breck's chest. He was rubbing the crystal absently, eyes on the town below them.

Their journey had been, thankfully, uneventful. After escaping the cultists at The Academy, they had made their way southwards, sticking to the deep woods. It had been uncomfortable, unpleasant, but it had been safe. They hadn't been discovered. Not yet, at least.

But all of that hardly mattered. Safety was not at the forefront of Mark's mind these days. The only thing he could think about was getting his son back. It was exhausting to dwell on it, but his heart wouldn't let him focus on anything else. He thought only of Chris, of what had happened to him, and how he was going to get him back.

Mark had his plan, his lifeboat in the storming sea of despair. As he stared down at Sallow, he grasped at it. He would survive, he would travel to Sesstria, and he would somehow figure out a way to save his son.

"Part of me thinks that we could just walk into that town, buy passage on a ship, and go," Nick said, hand on a stark-white tree. "I mean, we don't know that all of the cultists know what we look like, right? Maybe we could pass for a family traveling south, escaping the insanity?"

Breck's eyes were dark, intense. "I don't think it will be that easy. King Esteck would've heard about our encounter at The Academy, and he would've circulated our descriptions." The big man's eyes shifted from side to side as he looked at the town. "They will be looking for us. If we're found, they'll arrest us and bring us back to the city."

Mark agreed with that. They couldn't take any chances. His plan didn't involve getting captured in Sallow.

On the southern end of the town, the harbour was dark and foreboding, an expanse of black kept at bay by the flickering firelight of the town's many streetlamps. Myriad boats bobbed and shifted in the water, attached to the stone docks. Some were small, wooden rafts, others were luxurious, humongous. Mark spied one, in particular, at the far end of the harbour. It was one of the largest boats he had ever seen, ever. He could see movement on the deck, but nothing was clear through the darkness.

Then, a hand was on his shoulder. Mark turned. Nick was looking up at him, a worried cast to his face. "Are you alright, Mark? You haven't... you haven't said anything."

The words wouldn't come. How did he answer that question? Of course he wasn't 'all right.' He was fucking miserable, miserable and terrified and sad and angry and anxious. His mind was still stuck in that toxic miasma, unable to forget about what had happened in Sesstria, what had happened to his son.

"I'm worried about him, Nick." It was all that Mark could say. It was simple. It was the truth.

Nick nodded. "Me, too. I'm worried about all of them." He bit his lip, and then looked back at the town. "I keep wondering if there is any point to this? If we have any hope of recruiting The High Lord to our cause and saving our kids? Is this hopeless?"

"One day, one step, one foot in front of another," Breck said. He looked at them both. "They might save themselves, get themselves out of whatever situation that they have been placed in. But if they're relying on us, then we need to do everything we can to save them." He turned back to the city. "We'll take it one day at a time. We'll get there, you'll see. We just need a plan to cross the ocean. A good one."