Icariel woke up, his vision a blur. The cold night air brushed against his bruised skin as he struggled to gather his thoughts. How long had he been unconscious? The sky above was dark, the stars barely visible behind the smoke lingering in the air. His body ached all over, and as his senses sharpened, he realized he was no longer in the forest.
He was back in Mjull village.
But something was terribly wrong.
He was suspended in the air, his arms tied above his head like livestock hanging in a butcher's shop. His wrists burned from the rough rope digging into his flesh. His clothes were torn, dirt and dried blood staining the fabric. Panic settled in as his vision cleared further.
Before him stood Elektra, the woman responsible for this nightmare—the same woman who had cut Finn in half, the same woman Galien had died trying to stop.
She approached him slowly, her black-and-white armor reflecting the faint flicker of torches scattered throughout the village. Her smirk was playful, cruel. Without warning, she grabbed his face with one hand, squeezing his jaw tightly.
"Look, look who finally woke up." Her voice dripped with mockery. "I was beginning to think you'd sleep through your own special welcome party." She released his face with a rough shove before snapping her fingers.
At that moment, the fire-holders positioned around the village—the ones meant to provide warmth and light—suddenly roared to life, flames bursting forth as if called by a dark command. The entire village was illuminated in an eerie glow.
Icariel's breath hitched in his throat. His dark eyes, tired and dazed, widened as he took in the sight before him.
The village was overrun.
Bears. Crimson Bears. Eight of them.
The same kind Galien had killed the very morning.
"So it was your doing…" Icariel whispered in horror.
The massive creatures stood like silent sentinels, their eyes glowing eerily in the firelight. But the true horror lay in the center of the village.
A crowd of villagers—men, women, children, and the elderly—were huddled together, their faces stricken with terror. Some clutched their loved ones, while others stared blankly at the ground, too broken to react. And at the very front, collapsed onto her knees, was Irela—Galien's wife. Finn's mother.
She was sobbing uncontrollably, her hands trembling as she cradled two things: the severed head of her son and the burned, unrecognizable corpse of her husband. Her cries of grief echoed through the silent night, a haunting sound of utter despair.
Icariel's entire body stiffened, his mind reeling. His breathing quickened as his gaze darted between the Crimson Bears, Elektra, and the helpless villagers.
He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as pure rage burned through his veins. "You... you bitch!" he spat, his voice trembling with fury. "You aren't human. You did all of this for—what? For some twisted reason? And now you stand there, enjoying this?" His vision blurred with anger and disbelief. "After killing her son and burning her husband, you still aren't satisfied?!"
Elektra smirked, her twisted amusement only growing. "Twisted reason? Oh no, my dear boy. The reason for all of this stands right before me," she said, tilting her head slightly. "It has nothing to do with Galien. Do you know why I decided to kill all these people, even though I never planned to?"
Icariel trembled. "What…?"
Elektra stepped closer, now face-to-face with him, her breath warm against his skin. "Because of you, you fucking brat."
Icariel's body stiffened. His pupils dilated. His chest felt tight, as if his lungs refused to work.
"Because… of me?"
The villagers, who had been sobbing in silence, began murmuring in despair, their faces filled with confusion and fear. The oldest among them, ChiefHelos, stood near Irela, his long white beard trembling as he spoke.
"Icariel… what is she saying?" His voice wavered. "Did you… do this to us?"
"No! Please, Chief Helos, she's lying!" Icariel pleaded, desperation thick in his voice. "I would never—"
"A lie?" Elektra's face twisted into a sneer, her smirk vanishing into cold rage. "I'm telling you that you are the reason, and you dare call me a liar?!"
She pointed at her armor. "This armor—you see this? Do you have any idea how much this is worth? Thirteen villages of this size couldn't afford it! This was a gift from one of the Majesties themselves! And you… You made me give up its one-time-use immortal ability because of that damn axe you threw! Because of you, I was forced to activate it! Because of you, Galien got the chance to almost kill me!"
Icariel's body shook uncontrollably. He wanted to deny it. He wanted to scream that it wasn't his fault. But words failed him. The weight of Elektra's words crushed him like an iron chain around his throat.
The villagers turned to each other, their murmurs growing louder. Some wept harder. Others looked at him with expressions of horror and betrayal.
Chief Helos, his wrinkled face pale, muttered under his breath, "I should never have brought you here. I should never have let you into this village."
Icariel's world shattered.
"What…?" The word escaped him in disbelief. "What is he saying? What did I do except help Galien kill this monster?"
But before he could say more, Irela, still holding onto her son's head and husband's body, lifted her tear-streaked face. "What are you saying, Chief Helos?!" she shouted, her voice raw with grief. "He was like a brother to my son! Like a son to my husband! Don't you dare say such things about him!"
Icariel's eyes widened again—but this time, a spark of something else lit within them. Even in the face of despair, even after losing everything, Irela still defended him.
Chief Helos hesitated, his guilt flickering in his aged eyes. After a long silence, he let out a deep sigh. "I spoke too soon… I am sorry, both of you." He looked around at the villagers, their fates sealed. "At least… we should die together in peace. There is no other choice."
The villagers, resigned to their end, clung to one another, parents hugging their children, elders comforting the young.
Then—A horizontal slash cut through the air.
Blood sprayed.
Irela's head rolled across the ground.
Icariel's mind went blank.
His dark eyes, already dull from exhaustion, widened in sheer terror. His body trembled as he watched the head of the woman who had just defended him lay lifelessly at Elektra's feet.
Elektra, her sword dripping with fresh blood, wore a satisfied smile. "Oops."
A suffocating silence followed. No screams. No wails. Just the quiet sound of flames crackling in the background.
Then, all at once, the village erupted into chaos.
The cries of the villagers filled the night sky, their sorrow turning into agonized wails.
And Icariel… could only watch.
A sixteen-year-old child, hanging in the air, watching his home, his people, and everything he had ever known fall apart in front of him.
A helpless witness to the massacre.
A victim.
And yet, according to Elektra… the cause of it all.
Icariel, still hanging from his restraints, staring in pure shock.
He had seen blood before. He had seen death before—from hunting animals.
But not like this.
His body trembled uncontrollably. His breath hitched. His vision blurred.
Elektra turned to him again, her eyes gleaming with cruel boredom. "This is the end. I kept you alive just so you could witness true suffering before you died. And because of you, I had to take a different path than the one originally planned. Galien almost slipped through my fingers because of that."
She sighed mockingly. "I even wanted to kill your family, but what a pity—you don't have one. I was told you were all alone. What else should I expect from an annoying little brat like you?"
Icariel barely registered her words. His dark eyes darted up and down, left and right, searching. Searching for something—anything.
Elektra, not paying attention to his subtle movements, raised her hand and spoke in an eerie, unknown language.
The Crimson Bears let out deep, guttural growls in response. Then, they moved—Straight into the crowd of villagers.
Screams filled the air again as the monstrous creatures tore into the helpless people. Blood splattered against the wooden houses. Limbs were ripped apart. The village that had once been his home was now a slaughterhouse.
But Icariel—
Icariel wasn't paying attention anymore.
Something in him had changed.
His mind had gone blank from the trauma he saw. His breathing slowed. His muscles relaxed. And only one thing remained within him.
Instinct.
His instincts screamed at him. To survive. To live.
That was his only priority.
He wasn't like the others.
He didn't fear losing loved ones.
He feared losing himself.
He feared death.
And right now—it was right in front of him.
[End of chapter 5]