The wind carried Marco's thoughts back, far from the cliffs where he now stood, watching catastrophe unfold below. His mind drifted to the days of the past — days when the world was simpler, though never kinder.
He remembered the inn.
The ambience of warm light spilling through cracked shutters, the smell of bread and smoke lingering in the air. He and Colden had stayed there, restless, their hearts heavy with secrets they could not share. Marco had always clung to those nights, the silence between them, the comfort of knowing Colden was near.
But one morning, Colden rose early. He slipped out into the streets, his figure fading into the dawn. Marco woke to emptiness, his chest tightening, fear clawing at him. He was terrified of losing Colden. Terrified of waking to a world where Colden was gone.
It was never a happy day without him by his side.
That fear never left. It haunted Marco, even now.
His thoughts twisted further back — to the day his mother lay cold on the floor. He had watched her die, helpless, his body frozen, his voice silent. Her hands, once warm and kind, lay lifeless, restless, drained of all light. He remembered reaching for them, remembered the way they felt — not soft, not alive, but cold, heavy, final.
He had wept until his throat burned, until his body shook, until he was dragged away. The last image of her lingered in his mind, carved into his soul.
Then Ralph.
Pinned against the wall, Marco's breath crushed, his body trembling. Ralph's eyes burned with cruelty, his grip iron. Marco was about to become dead meat, his life snuffed out like a candle.
But then — a light.
Jeremy.
He had stepped forward, his presence cutting through the darkness, his strength shielding Marco. Jeremy fought, Jeremy saved, Jeremy gave Marco a chance to live.
And Marco… ran.
He couldn't even remember if his mother was truly dead or not. His mind blurred, his heart shattered. He had been useless, as always. He cried, he wept, and Jeremy helped him. But Marco never returned the favor. He never stayed. He never fought.
He ran away.
A coward.
He looked back once — just once — and then never again.
The words of his sister echoed in his mind, sharp, merciless. Coward.
He had carried that word like a wound, like a curse. And tonight, as shadows clashed and Colden was dragged in chains, the word burned deeper than ever.
Marco's knees weakened, his breath shallow. He was about to give up, about to let the weight of his past crush him.
But then — a scream.
A voice, raw, piercing, filled with pain.
"Mother!!!!"
Elaine's cry tore through the night, cutting into Marco's soul.
His eyes widened, his body jolted. The sound shattered his haze, pulling him back to the present, back to the chaos below. He saw Elaine, her body trembling, her voice breaking. He saw Carmine clashing with Austin's retainer, sparks flying, steel ringing. He saw Francis and Viremont shielding her, their faces pale, their eyes desperate.
And he knew.
He knew his decision.
No more running. No more cowardice. No more silence.
Marco's breath steadied, his fists clenched. His fear remained — grave, suffocating — but it no longer ruled him. He would not abandon them. Not Colden. Not Elaine. Not the family he had left behind.
The storm raged below, Austin's laughter echoing from the palace, Colden's chains biting into his wrists, Isabelle's cries filling the hall. Marco's heart pounded, his tears fresh, his soul burning.
He whispered, his voice trembling but resolute. "This time… I won't run."
The cliffs trembled beneath his feet, the lavender fields swayed, the night thickened. Marco's decision was made.
The coward's memory would no longer define him.
TO BE CONTINUED…
NEXT CHAPTER ON 6th APRIL 2026