He's a battle-hardened knight; she's from the modern world.
He has faced the unthinkable, while she was sheltered in comfort.
His body and soul bear scars, but she still believes in wonders.
He seeks redemption and peace, and she craves true love.
B...
That sombre morning, a chilling dread hung heavily over Emberholde. Grey, ragged clouds drifted across the sky in shreds, partially covering the sun and leaving only a pale disc overhead. The town square, usually a centre of trade and merry chatter, had become the site of a macabre scene.
The royal guards led the druids to the wooden scaffold at the centre, with Eryndor at the head of the group. Their white robes and long beards fluttered in the wind. Despite their fate, they walked with quiet dignity, which unsettled the onlooking crowd.
Shrouded in a black hood, the executioner waited silently with a sword in his hand. The dreadful stillness was punctuated by the mournful cries of onlookers who had gathered to witness this, some of whom were druids' followers.
William and Edward stood by the castle window, which offered a partial view of the execution site.
"I couldn't stop it," William murmured, his gaze fixed on the executioner's blade glinting in the pale light.
"It's not your fault, William," Edward whispered, though his voice betrayed unease. "The kingdom has been left to the hands of scoundrels."
A faint cry rose from the square, piercing the heavy silence. William's shoulders tensed as Eryndor knelt before the block, his head bowed. "Even if Oswald dies, it won't change anything. Garreth holds all the power now."
The executioner raised his sword, and Edward spun from the window. "It cannot stay this way! Don't you remember what Aradon was like before all this?"
The crowd gasped below as the blade descended, the sound of steel meeting flesh barely audible over the growing cries. William closed his eyes briefly. "The Aradon we knew is gone, Edward. No more wealth, no more glory... Only ruins and scorched lands... and this." He gestured toward the scene outside. "I wonder if this is what we shed our blood for."
Edward's jaw clenched. "Do you think the Valtharians are watching this, laughing at us? At our once-mighty kingdom, reduced to this barbarity?"
"This is exactly what they want." A bitter edge coloured William's voice. "And Garreth is playing right into their hands."
Edward's expression turned stony. "Then we cannot stand by and let him destroy what is left. We must stop Garreth!"
Before William could respond, the anguished cries of the crowd surged as another druid's head rolled into the growing pool of blood. William turned from the window, his face pale. "I think it's too late, Edward," he whispered. "The bloodfiends will stop us all before we can even get to him."
William stepped away from the window, unable to bear the scene. Guilt settled within him – his knights had also come to the Luminous Grove, the sacred place meant to remain untouched. He had tried to stop Garreth and the king, but to no avail. A sense of impending doom closed in around him like a shroud.
"This is the end of Aradon," he said to Edward.
One by one, the druids approached the wooden block. Each placed their head on the pool of blood left by those who had been executed before them. The heads fell, and the bodies were dragged aside, forming a pile to be burned later. The bloodstains on the druids' robes stood out in stark crimson against the white backdrop.
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