Chapter 5: Through the ashes

Zack

In the early hours of the morning, the sun crept up through the hills, shedding light on what was once the town of Idrea now reduced to ash. Bodies cluttered the streets around Zack. He could hear a quiet sobbing in the distance as he crept through the smoke, covering his face with his shirt, trying not to gag at the stench of burnt flesh that filled the air.

He could not believe his eyes, he would not accept that his family could be gone, that his life as he knew it could be over. He wandered through the debris, his mind racing, his heart pounding in his chest. As Zack made his way through what remained of Idrae, he stepped over the body of a man, his silver-threaded cloak bearing the sigil of Var'aak, marking him as a soldier in the army that had attacked the night before. After the decimation of the town, the soldiers moved on, leaving behind a trail of destruction. Zack feared the worst after his mother and sister had not returned the night before.

He was exhausted, but the thought of his family drove him on, pushing him to find them. He needed to know if they were alive or dead. As he stumbled through the wreckage, his heart sank, and his hope faded.

The distant glow of fires could be seen through the black of the night. Arming himself with the closest thing to a weapon he could find, a pitchfork, he set out in search of his family. With every step, his heart pounded in his chest. He kept repeating the words [they are alive, they are alive!] over and over in his head. 

"They have to be," he muttered.

A few moments later, Zack found himself at the edge of market square. The sight before him was one of utter devastation. The once proud stalls and booths were reduced to piles of rubble, the streets were littered with the bodies of those who had not survived.

His eyes stung with tears, his throat burned with rage. His hands balling into fists. The only people who had mattered to him were gone. Walking through what was left of the market, he arrived at their family stall. The sight broke his heart. Spilled coins lay scattered on the street, the tables and tent covering completely demolished. Before moving on Zack bent down and gathered the coins, he packed them into a leather pouch, fastening the strings to his belt. It wouldn't be long until looters came to pick through the rubble. The coins would be picked up by someone else if he had left them. After he found his family they would need money to survive without the village.

Zack searched the bodies, trying to find his family amongst the carnage. He hoped they had survived uninjured. With every minute, his heart grew heavier. Gritting his teeth at the bitter reminder of the lives lost, he pushed away his grief, determined to find his loved ones. Finally, he found his father lying on the street, his lifeless body covered in blood. The tears streamed down his face.

"Father," he whispered, kneeling beside the man who had raised him. "I am sorry, I should have been here to protect you, protect them. I am a failure. I will find who did this and avenge our family, I swear on my life."

He wiped the tears from his cheeks and rose, leaving his father behind. He walked the streets in a daze, the grief and anger consuming him. None of the bodies in the market belonged to his mother or sister. Some of the faces he recognized. He turned over a body with dark hair. For a moment he thought he would find his sister staring back, but it was his friend Matthew's lifeless eyes that greeted him, a boy he had grown up with. Zack jumped back in horror, he stood there a few moments, his body shaking in anger and grief. Not having time to mourn the dead, he continued his search through the village for what seemed like hours.

By the time he stopped to rest, his clothes and skin were thickly coated with ash and sweat. His throat was dry from breathing in smoke all day; tears streaked his face. He reached for a waterskin he had found earlier, taking a sip of its fresh contents. Zack wiped a drip of spilled water from his chin and glanced up at the sky. The sun was beginning to set, casting an eerie orange glow over the ruined town. The day would be over soon. He had walked to the edge of the town, where a group of people huddled together, some wounded, some just in shock. The survivors of the massacre. Zack recognized a few faces. The young boy, Matthew's brother, a few older people, a small group of women. There was no sign of his mother or sister. He approached the group cautiously, clearing his throat.

"Have you seen my family? I have been searching all day, but I cannot find them," Zack said.

"We're sorry, but no, we have not," the elder, a man named Dane, replied, his voice filled with sadness.

Zack's shoulders sagged with defeat.

"They could still be alive," Galena's mother came over, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Galena?" the question hung between them, she shook her head somberly. 

"If your mother and sister are alive, they will be out here. Do not give up."

Zack nodded. He wasn't giving up hope. Not yet.

"What are you planning to do?" he asked.

"We are going to head to the nearest city, to the north," the elder replied, pointing in the direction.

"We could use your help if you want to come along," he offered.

"Thank you, but I will continue to search. I have to find my family," Zack declined, not wanting to be part of the group.

"If you change your mind, you can always catch up," the elder said, nodding his head.

The small group gathered their belongings and headed off. Zack watched them leave, his heart heavy with grief. Discarded blades lay on the ground by his feet. Digging through the rubble, Zack exchanged his pitchfork for two short swords. They were identical in shape and size, most likely a matching pair. The weight of the swords was comforting in his hands, giving him a sense of control in a world that had been torn apart. He wiped blood from the blades with a cloth, then wrapped them in leather before fastening them to his back. The hilts stuck out at either shoulder, within reach if he needed to defend himself quickly. He had seen travellers come through the village wearing weapons in a similar fashion. Though he was only seventeen, Zack was taller and more athletic than most men his age. Having spent his whole life working fields and bearing the labours of a farmer contributed to his muscular physique. 

Satisfied with his choice of weapons, Zack set off. As he walked, he thought of his family.

"Where could they be?" he wondered.

Zack had a hard time believing his family could be among the many that were killed in the attack.

"They're not dead. They can't be."

Zack's eyes were stinging with tears, his chest was tight. He was angry, hurt, and confused. The fire had destroyed most of the food in the town, Zack collected whatever he could find of use, packing it into a sack. Deciding that his search of the village was in vain, he thought of where his mother and sister might have gone. The soldiers never took hostages.

The night was quiet, only the sound of his own footsteps breaking the silence. A few hours later, he was making his way through the fields surrounding the town. Zack looked around in the dim light, scanning the horizon. The mountain to the east loomed over the village. For a moment, he thought he saw a large white stag at the tree line. He blinked twice. His eyes were playing tricks on him. An icy breeze blew past him towards the mountains, gooseflesh raised on his exposed skin pricked by the cold. In his heart, he knew. As though by some magic connecting him to his family, that was the way he had to go to find them.

The journey was long and arduous. The terrain was uneven and full of obstacles, slowing him down. After a few hours, he finally reached the mountain. He took a moment to catch his breath.

"How will I find them? There's nothing here," Zack thought aloud.

He stood at the base of the mountain, looking up at the towering peaks that seemed to disappear into the clouds. The trees were thick and dense leading into the forest, their branches twisted and gnarled. An eerie feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He had a terrible feeling about this place.

"This is insane, I'm going to get lost in these woods," he muttered, shaking his head.

There was no turning back now, his mind was made up. If his family was alive, they would have made their way to the mountain. He had to follow his gut, and his instincts told him this was the right decision.

Zack started walking, following the path into the woods. The trees seemed to close in on him, the branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. The air grew colder, the wind howling through the trees.

"This is a terrible idea," he muttered, shaking his head again.

Despite his apprehension, he kept walking. The trees around him were so tall and thick, they blocked out the moonlight. It was difficult to see, but he managed to avoid the larger obstacles.

A large boom shook the trees, throwing Zack sideways. blue light danced across his vision making him dizzy.

The ground beneath his feet trembled, making it difficult to keep his balance. The sound echoed throughout the forest, and Zack looked around in a panic, unsure of what had caused it.

"What was that?" he asked, his voice quivering.

Before he could get his bearings, a figure appeared in the darkness.

"Who's there?" Zack called out, his voice echoing through the trees.