Chapter 15: Captain

The bodies of fallen soldiers lay scattered on the ground. The air was heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the sickly-sweet stench of decay.

"What the hell happened here?"

"It seems the war has reached even this peaceful land," Ophelia said, her eyes downcast.

Morwen wrapped her arms around herself in a futile attempt to ward off the chill that had settled in her bones. "I thought this was a place of safety," she murmured, her voice a mere whisper in the oppressive silence of the battlefield.

"As did I," the siren sighed, her eyes clouded with sadness.

As the group stood in stunned silence, a gurgling cough shattered the stillness, the sound so out of place amidst the death that had laid claim to the field. "Someone's alive!" Morwen cried out, her eyes wide with hope as she scanned the area for the source of the noise.

Without hesitation, the group rushed towards the sound, their footsteps muffled by the soft earth and trampled grass. They found him under the broken remains of a carriage, a lone soldier with his once-proud uniform now torn and stained with blood. Morwen and Ophelia knelt beside him, their hands trembling as they reached out to touch his clammy skin.

The soldier's eyes fluttered open, his gaze unfocused and distant. Sweat mingled with dirt marked his face, the lines of pain etched deep into his features. "Water," he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ophelia rummaged through her pack, pulling out a skin of water and lifting it to the soldier's cracked lips. He drank greedily, the water soothing his parched throat as he let out a grateful sigh.

"Stay with us," Ophelia murmured, her voice soft as a whisper carried on a breeze. The soldier's ragged breaths filled the small pocket of stillness that surrounded them, his chest rising and falling with effort.

The soldier let out a rattling breath, his chest heaving as he struggled to speak.

"My kingdom," he rasped, the words tumbling from his cracked lips like grains of sand. His gaze flickered towards the distant horizon.

Eyes brimming with unshed tears Morwen reached for his trembling hand.

"You're going to be alright," she whispered, her voice quivering with emotion. "We're here now, and we're going to help you."

 She turned to Ophelia, her eyes pleading for hope. "Can you heal him?"

But even as Morwen spoke, doubt clouded Ophelia's features. She glanced down at the soldier's breastplate, the glint of a familiar silver raven catching her eye. With a heavy heart, she shook her head, her expression grim.

"I'm not sure I want to," she said quietly. "Look at the sigil he wears. It marks him as one of them."

Morwen's gaze darted between Ophelia and the fallen soldier, desperation etched in the lines of her face.

 "Please," she pleaded, her voice cracking with emotion. "He's just a boy, he doesn't deserve this."

The soldier's eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes that held a fleeting moment of clarity. His gaze sought out Morwen's face, a ghost of a smile flickering across his lips before his body went slack, the light fading from his eyes.

As the silence settled over them like a heavy shroud, a deep sense of loss filled the small clearing. Ophelia's voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke the words that weighed heavy on her heart. "We're too late."

 "We're too late," she repeated, her breath hitching in her throat, the weight of their failure pressing down on her like a leaden cloak.

Morwen let out a shaky breath, her hands trembled as she rose to her feet. Her eyes scanned the bleak landscape of the battlefield, taking in the sheer scale of destruction. Broken swords, shattered shields, and ravaged banners littered the ground.

"What kind of war is this?" Morwen whispered, her voice hoarse with disbelief. The enormity of the destruction stretched out before her like a yawning abyss.

Zack, his face set in a grim mask, joined her side. "The worst kind," he replied, his voice heavy with sorrow.

"I've never seen such brutality," Morwen continued, her eyes wide with horror.

Ophelia gently touched Morwen's back, guiding her on.

Weapons lay scattered across the blood-soaked field, Morwen saw the broken body of a child, his lifeless eyes stared up at her accusingly, a look of terror still etched upon his young features.

Morwen choked back a sob, the soldier was just a child. The death and destruction she had witnessed would haunt her for the rest of her days.

Zack collected a fallen sword and handed it to her. She looked at the blood-stained blade, then slowly took the weapon. Gripping the handle with white knuckles the weight of it felt foreign in her hands, as she took in the scene of destruction around her.

They passed by another soldier. His armour glistened under the dying light, each piece crafted with meticulous attention to detail. The sigil adorning his breastplate caught Morwen's attention - a silver crow, its wings spread wide in flight. It was the same emblem the dying boy wore, but this one marked him as a higher rank. With curiosity piqued, Morwen approached the soldier. Captain Malachi lay on the hill, his body battered and broken. Blood seeped from his wounds, staining the earth beneath him. The battle had been merciless, a storm of chaos and destruction, leaving him on the brink of death.

"Do you think he fought alongside those who brought death to our home?" Morwen muttered, her voice laden with a potent mix of anger and confusion.

Zack placed a warning hand on Morwen's shoulder. "We should keep moving. There's nothing for us here."

But Morwen's gaze was fixed on the man before her. She reached out hesitantly, lifting the soldier's visor to reveal a face that bore the weight of both youth and war. Dark hair framed features that, in another time and place, could have been considered handsome.

"He's not much older than us," she observed. His eyes were closed in a semblance of peace, a stark contrast to the violence that had consumed him. A warm breath caressed her hand as the soldier took a ragged gasp.

"He's alive!" Morwen gasped, her hand lingering on the soldier's cheek.

Ophelia's footsteps softly approached, her eyes taking in the tragedy laid bare before them. "His wounds are grave," she remarked quietly.

Morwen's eyes lingered on the man. Her fingers traced the intricate patterns etched into the soldier's armour, Great skill and craftsmanship had gone into its creation. Despite the ravages of battle, the armour remained Pristine holding its form, a testament to the skill of the smith who had forged it, each piece a work of art tarnished by the brutality of war. 

Zack crouched down beside the soldier, a look of concern on his face. He glanced at Morwen. "We should keep moving."

But Morwen wasn't listening. The soldier lying before them looked hauntingly familiar to her somehow, a ghost from a past long forgotten.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the feeling, but it persisted. Her gaze wandered over his face, looking for something, anything to explain the unsettling sense of familiarity.Her eyes narrowed as a faint scar caught her attention, tracing its jagged line along the soldier's chin down to his neck.

"I know him," Morwen breathed, her words a hushed whisper. "You have to save him." She pleaded turning to Ophelia.

Ophelia shook her head, her eyes filled with concern, but the look in Morwen's eyes left no room for argument.

"Very well," Ophelia acquiesced, her tone reluctant but firm. She knelt beside Morwen, her long, slender fingers intertwining with the soldier's cold, lifeless hands. Closing her eyes, she began to whisper an incantation, her voice a soft murmur.

Morwen watched in awe as silver lines painted themselves across Ophelia's ebony skin, like delicate threads weaving a tapestry of healing. The lines travelled from Ophelia's fingertips to the captain's wounded body, magically knitting his broken bones and torn flesh back together. Morwen's breath caught in her throat as the light faded, and Captain Malachi's eyes fluttered open.

His gaze met hers, and Morwen felt as though she was staring into an ocean of blue, a sea of emotions swirling beneath the surface. Recognition flickered in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by confusion.

"You're not supposed to be here," she murmured, "You know me, don't you?" Morwen asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Morwen's mind spun with questions, her thoughts a jumble. She knew this man, or at least she thought she did. She had seen his face in her dreams and felt his touch in the deepest recesses of her mind. It had all felt so real, too real to be dismissed as mere fantasy. And yet, here he was, flesh and blood before her.

"What is your name?" She asked, her voice trembling.

"Malachi," the soldier breathed, his voice a harsh whisper. "What happened?" 

Captain Malachi pushed himself up slowly, his movements fluid yet unsteady. Morwen reached out to help him, her hand hovering in the space between them. The air around them seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly glow, casting strange shadows upon their faces.

 As Captain Malachi's hand moved to his chest, searching for the wounds that should have been there.

Captain Malachi's voice broke through the silence, raspy and weak, as he struggled to make sense of the impossible. His memories were fragmented, shards of a past that seemed distant and unreal in the face of the present moment.

"How is this possible?" he wondered aloud, his eyes wide with disbelief. His hand still resting upon his chest where once a fatal wound had been inflicted.

Captain Malachi looked at the trio standing before him, his expression one of confusion. His gaze swept over them, a question hung in the air, waiting to be answered.

Morwen took a tentative step forward, her fingers gently touching his arm. A sudden gust of wind rustled the branches overhead, the sound of their movement filled the silence between them.Morwen looked down at the ground, her thoughts racing.

"This is all just a bad dream," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "None of this is real, right?"

The words fell from her lips, heavy with doubt. Captain Malachi's gaze shifted to her face, his eyes boring into hers.

"Morwen, how are you alive?" he finally asked.

Morwen felt a surge of mixed emotions wash over her.

She watched as Captain Malachi struggled to get up, his movements stiff and unsteady as he tested the strength of his newly healed body.

"Can you stand?" Ophelia asked, her voice calm and gentle.

Captain Malachi nodded, accepting her hand. The siren helped him up, her strength surprising for her slender frame.

"Thank you," the man said, his voice sincere.

As the Captain stood before them, his face a mask of bewilderment, Morwen felt a shiver run down her spine. There was something about him that stirred a deep familiarity within her, a connection that transcended mere chance encounters. His eyes held a weariness that spoke of battles long fought, of losses too great to bear.

Morwen's thoughts spiraled, trying to grasp at fleeting memories that danced just beyond her reach. Who was this man with the haunted gaze, and why did he seem to strum the chords of her heart with a melody of recognition that echoed through her very soul? The air crackled with unspoken tension as if the universe itself held its breath in anticipation of the revelation that lay just beyond the horizon of understanding. How did he know her name.

Zack's voice broke through the haze, pulling Morwen out of her reverie. "Are you okay?" he asked, his concern palpable in the air between them.

Drawing a deep breath to steady her racing heart, Morwen turned towards Zack. "Yes," she replied, her voice firm though her eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty.

"I need to get back to the city and Galena is alive." Captain Malachi explained, his expression darkening as he glanced towards the direction where the enemy forces had surprised them.

"Don't say her name, it was you and your army that attacked our village." Zack hissed, his voice laced with venom. "Your king started the war!" 

The knowledge of King Andrei's actions, of the devastation wrought in his name, weighed heavily upon Zack's heart. This was the man responsible for the destruction, for the innocent lives lost in his insatiable quest for power. The memory of the king's army, of the pain and suffering they had inflicted, seared Zack's soul like a brand of betrayal.

"Zack, please," Morwen interjected, her voice wavering with a plea for peace, her eyes filled with a sorrow that mirrored the devastation of the land around them.

But Zack would not be swayed.

"No," he snarled, his gaze fixed upon Captain Malachi with an intensity that burned like wildfire. "Your men are nothing but murderers, pawns in a game of power and greed played by a king devoid of conscience."

"Galena is alive and safe," Captain Malachi spoke, his voice steady and calm, though a flicker of doubt danced in his eyes. "I take no pleasure in the violence, but this war is bigger then you think."

"Your people invaded our lands, and slaughtered innocent men, women, and children," Zack retorted, the words bitter upon his tongue, the memories of loss and pain bubbling to the surface. "Your men killed my friends, MY FAMILY!" Zack bellowed, his voice echoing through the battlefield.

Morwen winced, her eyes misty with unshed tears. Captain Malachi recoiled, his eyes widening in regret. He tried to find the right words to defend himself, knowing deep down the truth of his actions.

Captain Malachi's gaze faltered, his once-defiant eyes now clouded with remorse as the haunting echoes of Zack's accusations reverberated through his mind.

"Its not like that," he faltered, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation, a futile attempt to justify the unjustifiable. "I had no choice."

"Everyone has a choice," Zack retorted, his voice cold.

"I'm sorry, I'm on your side" Captain Malachi offered.

Morwen stood beside Zack, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her heart heavy with the weight of shared loss and unfathomable grief. 

"You didn't have to follow those orders" Morwen interjected, her voice firm but filled with understanding. She couldn't imagine the horrors of war and or know the agonizing choices it forced upon people.

"My loyalty is to my king and my country," Captain Malachi argued.

"I lost my parents to your king's ambitions. Your men invaded my village and slaughtered the people I loved. I saw their blood soak the earth, I saw their lifeless bodies strewn across the fields." Zack's voice shook as he spoke.

Captain Malachi's mask of stoicism crumbled, his facade of loyalty crumbling in the face of such raw, unrelenting grief.

"I'm sorry for your loss," his words were a whisper, carried away by the wind, a feeble attempt to mend wounds that ran too deep, to soothe the pain that knew no balm.

But Zack, his eyes burning with an unquenchable fire, shook his head.

"It's not enough," Zack interjected. "An apology won't bring them back."

"I understand," Captain Malachi conceded, his voice tinged with remorse.

"What do we do now?" Morwen asked, her eyes searching the others' faces.

Zack's gaze lingered on Captain Malachi, his expression a mask of cold detachment, a reflection of the pain that gnawed at his heart.

"We could kill him," He said reaching back to draw one of his swords. His words were like ice, a chilling reminder of the thin line between justice and vengeance.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Ophelia questioned, her voice tinged with concern.

"We can't leave him alive," he insisted, his jaw set in a steely line.

"Maybe we should take him with us," Morwen suggested, her tone uncertain. "when did you get so keen on taking lives, Zack?"

A flicker of doubt crossed Zack's face before it hardened into defiance.

Morwen's gaze softened with understanding. "It's not cowardice, Zack. It's strength to choose a path that upholds our humanity amidst the chaos of war. There are other ways to seek justice."

Zack bristled at her words, his temper flaring. "Like what, Morwen? Waiting for the same fate to befall us?"

The tension among the group grew palpable, the weight of their decisions pressing down on them like a mountain. Morwen struggled to find an answer that could bridge the chasm between Zack's righteous anger and her own belief in mercy and redemption.

"I don't have all the answers," Morwen admitted, her frustration mounting. "But we must consider all options before we take a step we can't undo."

Zack's voice turned grave, heavy with the burden of countless losses and unspoken grief. "The time for mercy is over, Morwen. This war has devoured too many lives, too many innocents caught in the crossfire. I won't let more suffer because of the king's greed and the soldiers' blind obedience."

Morwen took a deep breath, her eyes downcast. She understood his pain and anger, but she also knew that the world wasn't black and white. There was no easy solution, no simple answer.

"Perhaps you're right," she conceded, her voice quiet.

Meanwhile, Captain Malachi, the unwitting target of their deliberations, was gripped by confusion and fear. His voice trembled as he spoke.

"I don't understand," Captain Malachi stammered, his voice strained.

"They're going to kill you, Captain," She explained, her tone matter-of-fact.

"What?" the captain questioned, his expression panicked.

"We don't want to kill you," Morwen clarified, pointing a finger between herself and Zack.

"But we can't trust you either."

"Then let me help you," Captain Malachi offered, his voice desperate. "Please, I want to make amends."

Morwen and Ophelia glanced at each other, their expressions hesitant.

"Fine," Morwen conceded, her gaze shifting back to the captain.

A heavy silence settled over the four of them, the weight of their words hanging in the air like an unspoken truth. Zack let out a loud huff of air, clearly outnumbered. Ophelia sighed, rubbing her forehead. her anger mixing with resignation. She knew that taking revenge on Captain Malachi wouldn't undo the devastation already caused. And she had already drained her magic by saving his life; it would be pointless to kill him now.

"Very well," Zack agreed. "But know this: if you betray us, I won't hesitate to end your life."

Malachi pondered their words, his gaze drifting between the trio before him. The glimmer flickering in Morwen's eyes stirred something within him. With a deep breath, Malachi made his decision.

"I won't," the captain promised, his expression solemn. 

Morwen and Ophelia both sighed in relief, their shoulders relaxing.

He could stay, and try to make his way home. But deep down, he knew it was pointless. His men were gone, his kingdom was likely gone, and he was alone.

"Where are we going?" the soldier asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.

"To the tribe of the river," Morwen replied. "It's not safe for us out here, especially with war so close."

"Alright, then let's get moving," Ophelia said. "It's going to be a long journey, and we don't have time to waste."

Malachi nodded and followed after the group, the tension in the air lifted, and the group began their journey once again. They walked in silence, the weight of their decisions still heavy on their hearts. Captain Malachi stayed close, his footsteps slow and unsure. His gaze wandered around the battlefield.

Bodies of fallen soldiers littered the ground, their armour ripped apart and their weapons broken. As he walked alongside Morwen, a deep sense of guilt settled over him. This was all his fault. If only he had been stronger and listened to his instincts. Maybe his men would still be alive, maybe the battle would have gone differently. He looked up and saw Morwen glancing at him, her expression soft and filled with concern.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied.

"You don't look alright," she said, her tone gentle. Morwen couldn't help but want to know more about him.

"I'm fine," Malachi insisted, his voice firm.

Malachi hesitated, the memories of his past rushing through his mind.

"I'm a soldier," he said. "I've always been a soldier. I was trained from a young age to fight, to protect my people. But I've failed."

His gaze drifted to the bodies that surrounded them, the guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders.

"It's not your fault," Morwen said. "You're not responsible for the actions of others."

"That's not how it feels," he replied, his voice laced with bitterness.

"Sometimes we have to do things that don't make sense, that go against our better judgement," Morwen said. "You can't blame yourself for doing what you thought was right at the time."

Morwen smiled and she was walking so close that their shoulders slightly touched. Malachi's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening slightly. She was beautiful, he thought, his gaze lingering on her features. Her hair was a dark shade of brown, almost black, her eyes a captivating Hazel brown. Her smile was infectious, and Malachi found himself smiling despite the grievous situation that weighed down his heart.

"I'm Morwen, and this is my brother Zack and Ophelia," she said, pointing to her companions, her voice warm.

"Nice to meet you," Malachi replied, his gaze shifting to the others.

Zack's expression remained cold and detached, his eyes narrowed with distrust. Malachi could feel the tension in the air, the silent threat of violence simmering beneath the surface.

"Nice to meet you too," Ophelia said, her tone polite and reserved.

The siren eyed him with caution, her body language defensive and guarded. Malachi could tell that she wasn't convinced of his change of heart, and her suspicion made him wary.

The group continued walking in silence, the tension palpable. Malachi felt like a prisoner, his hands bound by the chains of his past actions.

He had chosen to follow his king, and now he was paying the price.