The first rays of the sun painted the ruined village in soft golden light, but Lucius felt only coldness. His body still ached from using "Reversal" the day before. The ability was not healing as fast as before, and a sharp, throbbing pain reminded him how much his powers truly cost him. Dave was still curled up beside him, sleeping soundly despite everything that had happened. His small chest rose and fell gently with each breath. He was the only survivor, the only hope in this graveyard of terrible memories.
Lucius gently removed his arm from Dave so he wouldn't wake the boy, who had already gone through so much. He sat up slowly, wincing as pain shot through his ribs. His eyes moved across the ruined hut, the partially burnt wood, broken furniture, and the blood that still stained the ground. A huge lump formed in his throat as flashes of the previous day flooded his mind.
I can't leave them like this, he thought. They deserve a proper burial, not to lie on the ground like this.
He stood up on shaky legs, his hands trembling and his breath uneven, but he forced himself up. He looked at the sleeping boy and spoke softly, his voice rough from exhaustion.
"Dave… we have work to do. Let's bury your people before we leave. Then we pack whatever we can find and move on. The next village is only three miles away. We cannot stay here any longer. It's not safe."
Dave nodded slowly as he yawned and rubbed his eyes with small fists. His hands clenched tightly as he stood up without arguing. "Ok, Brother Lucius."
Together they worked in silence. Lucius used broken wood and whatever tools he could find to dig graves in the untouched ground behind the village. His hands blistered quickly, but he didn't stop. Dave brought him more wood whenever the old pieces broke. Every time the shovel hit the earth, painful memories flashed through Lucius's mind: the massacre, his mother's laughter, the cheerful villagers, and the elderly woman who once gave him food. Now they all lay cold and covered in blood.
Dave carried small stones to mark the graves and flowers that had survived the fire. He placed them carefully with shaking hands. When they reached his parents' bodies, the boy froze. Tears welled up in his eyes. Lucius knelt in front of him, resting one hand on his shoulder and the other gently on the boy's face.
"You don't have to watch this part," Lucius whispered.
"No… I want to," Dave replied, his voice cracking. "I want to say goodbye. They would want me to say goodbye, too."
Lucius's throat tightened painfully. He lowered Dave's mother first, then his father, then Eron, old woman Lora, and many others. With every body he buried, the guilt pressed harder on his chest. I caused this, he thought bitterly. Even if I didn't mean to, everything happened because I came here.
When the last mound of earth was patted down, Lucius stood up. Rows of simple graves now lined the area. Dave placed the final flowers on his parents' grave before standing beside Lucius. The afternoon wind blew gently through the grass and flowers, carrying the faint smell of turned earth and smoke.
Lucius closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm so sorry," he spoke softly, unsure if he was talking to the dead or to Dave. "It was because I was brought here that your whole village had to pay the price."
Dave looked up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears. "You saved me, Brother Lucius. That is what matters now."
Those words should have brought comfort, but instead they made Lucius's stomach twist even tighter. He ruffled the boy's hair and forced a small smile before turning toward one of the still-intact huts.
"Come on, Dave," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "We need to pack whatever we can find — food, coins, bags, and anything useful for the road. We have to leave fast. We can't stay here any longer. It's no longer safe."
Dave nodded and followed him, though his small hands and legs clearly showed signs of exhaustion. "I know where Papa keeps our money and things. I'll look there."
"Be careful," Lucius called as Dave dashed toward his family's hut.
They moved from house to house. The first hut Lucius entered still smelled strongly of blood and smoke. His stomach twisted, but he forced himself to continue. In the kitchen, the only part still mostly intact, he found dried meat, bread, and a small pouch of coins hidden in one of the pots. He took them, even though he felt bad about stealing from the dead.
In Dave's house, the boy crawled under a broken shelf and pulled out a small, half-broken wooden box. "Mama used to say this was for emergencies," he whispered to himself with a sad smile before running back to Lucius.
"You did well," Lucius said as he added the coins to their growing pile. "Good job, Dave."
They continued searching. Lucius found a slightly torn but useful cloak, a large cloth for covering themselves, a small knife, and bundles of clothes that could fit both of them. In another hut, they discovered more hard bread, a jar of preserved fruits, and a sturdy travelling bag that had survived the fire.
Every time Lucius bent down, pain flared through his body. The dark curse energy inside him pulsed once, as if reminding him of what he had done. This is my fault, he thought, jaw tight. The guilt was killing him inside, but Dave needed him to be strong. He couldn't keep breaking down.
After some time, they had a small but useful pack: a handful of copper coins, some silver coins, and enough food and supplies to last four or five days. Lucius tied the bag shut and slung it over his shoulder, wincing at the weight.
"That's enough," he said, looking around the village one last time as the sun began to set. "We should start moving soon before it gets too dangerous."
Dave looked up at him seriously. "Will they have a map there, Brother Lucius? And where are we going next?"
Lucius forced a tired smile and knelt down, placing his hands on Dave's shoulders. "I don't know yet, but they should have one. We'll buy it, settle there for a while, and start looking for information about what happened here… and why all this happened."
Dave nodded and slipped his small hand into Lucius's larger one. Together, they turned and began walking down the dirt path.
The road stretched ahead under the bright sun. Lucius adjusted the heavy pack on his back, wincing as it pressed into his bruised shoulder. Every step sent sharp pain through his body, but he kept moving.
Dave walked beside him, still holding his hand. His steps grew slower, but he never complained. His mind kept drifting back to the village, the graves, and his parents.
"You okay?" Lucius asked quietly, noticing how tired the boy looked.
Dave nodded, head dipping slightly before lifting again. "My feet hurt a little… but I can still keep moving, Brother Lucius."
Lucius slowed his pace to match Dave's. The sun beat down on them, sweat trickling down his back. Birds sang from the trees, and the grass swayed gently in the breeze. It felt too peaceful after the horror they had left behind. Lucius kept one hand near the small knife in his belt, eyes constantly scanning for danger.
Halfway through the journey, Dave's steps became much heavier. Lucius stopped and knelt in front of him.
"Here," he said, turning his back. "I'll carry you the rest of the way."
Dave hesitated for a second, then wrapped his arms around Lucius's neck. "Thank you, Brother Lucius."
The extra weight made Lucius's ribs scream in protest, but he didn't show it. He kept walking, one careful step after another, the pack digging painfully into his shoulder. The pain was a small price to pay for keeping Dave safe.
After what felt like forever, the path opened up. A wooden sign appeared ahead: Oakfield Village. Faint sounds of voices and carts drifted toward them. The village looked alive — modest houses with thatched roofs, a small market square, and people going about their day as if the world hadn't ended just a few miles away.
Lucius gently set Dave down as they reached the edge of the village. His legs trembled from the long walk, and his breathing was uneven.
"We're here, Dave," he said, voice tired but steady. "First, we find a quiet place to settle for the night. Then we buy a map and start asking questions… carefully."
Dave looked up at the bustling streets with wide eyes, a mix of nervousness and curiosity on his face. He squeezed Lucius's hand a little tighter.
"Will they be nice here?" he asked softly.
Lucius swallowed the doubt rising in his throat. "Don't you worry about that."
He pulled the hood of the worn travelling cloak over his head, hiding his face as best he could. The dark energy inside him gave one last quiet pulse, almost like a warning. Lucius ignored it and stepped forward into Oakfield Village with Dave beside him, the weight of their supplies and their secrets heavier than ever.
The streets of Oakfield were bigger than the village they had left, filled with ordinary daily life — merchants calling out prices, children laughing as they chased each other between carts, and the steady clang of a blacksmith's hammer. Lucius kept his hood low and stayed close to the edges of the road, one hand resting lightly on Dave's shoulder.
They made their way to the small market square in the centre of the village. Stalls lined the open space, offering everything from fresh bread to second-hand tools. Lucius scanned the crowd carefully before approaching a weathered old man sitting behind a table covered in rolled papers and worn books.
"Excuse me," Lucius said, keeping his voice low and steady. "Do you sell maps?"
The old merchant looked up, squinting at the hooded stranger and the small boy beside him. "Yeah, got a decent one of the surrounding lands. Covers the next three settlements and the main roads. Two silver."
Lucius didn't haggle. He counted out two silver coins from their small pouch and slid them across the table. The merchant handed him a tightly rolled parchment. Lucius unrolled it just enough to check it was accurate, then tucked it safely inside his cloak.
"Thank you," he murmured.
As they turned away, Dave tugged gently on his sleeve. "Now, where, Brother Lucius?"
Lucius scanned the square until he spotted a modest wooden sign hanging above a two-story building: Oakfield Rest – Rooms Available. It looked quiet and cheap.
"There," he said. "We'll settle in first. We both need rest."
The innkeeper, a middle-aged woman with kind but tired eyes, gave them a small room on the second floor for three copper coins a night. Lucius paid for two nights upfront. The room was simple — two narrow beds, a small table, and a window that overlooked the back alley — but it was clean and private.
Once the door clicked shut behind them, Lucius let out a long breath and dropped the pack onto the floor. Dave immediately climbed onto the smaller bed and curled up, exhaustion finally winning over his curiosity.
Lucius sat on the edge of his own bed, unfolding the new map across his knees. His eyes traced the roads and small markings. Oakfield was here. The ruined village they had come from was a short distance to the east. He needed to find out if there were any rumours of strange attacks, monster sightings, or sudden outbreaks of corruption nearby.
He glanced at Dave, who was already drifting off to sleep, then stood up quietly.
"I'm going downstairs for a bit," he whispered. "Stay safe. I won't be long."
Down in the common room, Lucius chose a corner table near the back where he could listen without being noticed. He ordered a simple bowl of stew and a mug of water, then sat and waited. A few locals were talking quietly at the next table — a farmer and a travelling merchant.
"…heard there was trouble east of here," the merchant was saying. "Whole village gone quiet. Some say it was monsters. Others say it was bandits."
Lucius's grip tightened around his mug. His heart beat a little faster, but he kept his face calm and continued listening.
The farmer nodded. "Yeah. Strange times. People have been talking about shadows moving on their own lately. And there's talk of a fifth hero summoned, who is now a criminal… but that's probably just tavern stories."
Lucius's breath caught for a second. Fifth hero. The words sent a cold ripple through him. He lowered his head and took another slow sip, ears straining for more.
He knew he couldn't ask questions directly yet — not without drawing attention. But this was a start. Information was here. And somewhere in these rumours might be the clues he needed about what happened…
Then the door to the inn slammed open.
A burly man in a stained leather vest burst inside, breathing heavily, his face flushed with excitement. "Listen up, everyone!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the common room. "The King has just posted a massive bounty — 500,000 gold coins for the capture of the fifth hero! They say he is the mistake, the extra one who should never have been summoned. Dangerous and cursed with dark powers. Reports claim he might already be hiding in this region. Anyone with information or who brings him in alive will be rewarded beyond their wildest dreams!"
The entire room fell into a heavy, tense silence. Heads turned sharply, eyes scanning every hooded stranger and shadowed corner.
Lucius froze, the spoon halfway to his mouth. His blood turned to ice as the dark energy inside him surged violently, twisting and writhing like a living beast beneath his skin. The shadow's voice slithered into his mind, low, mocking, and filled with dark amusement:
Five hundred thousand gold coins… The King himself is hunting the fifth hero. Tell me, Lucius… how long do you think you can keep running?