Chapter 6

Hauling me over one shoulder, Jed carefully made his way from tree to tree, shielding us from incoming arrow-fire.

Despite my protests, he seemed intent on bringing me along—a fact that made me feel touched, yet frustrated.

"Do you see the troll?"

Pressing his back against a narrow trunk, Jed whispered close to my ear.

I shook my head limply, branches scraping my face. I could barely keep my eyes open and my vision was blurry and indistinct. It was already a miracle I managed to remain conscious for so long.

Suddenly, my father threw one arm across my back, cinching me against his shoulder before breaking into a sprint. Between the orchard and main house was a grassy, empty space. Without any cover, we needed to traverse it as fast as possible.

To say the jostling wasn't good for my body was an extreme understatement. Immediately, I felt hot rivulets of blood pouring from my wound.

However, before I could let out a pained groan, Jed suddenly lurched and turned, avoiding an arrow appearing out of nowhere.

The sudden, sharp movement drove all the breath out of me, causing spots to dance in my vision. Something felt wrong in my chest—every heartbeat was hard and labored, and there was a sense of suffocating compression and tightness.

Jed continued running, covering the distance to our house in the blink of an eye, but that didn't matter to me. I needed oxygen, my lungs were burning, but I couldn't even wheeze. It was like a mill-stone laying on my chest, crushing me to death.

As if being underwater, I dimly heard wood slamming against wood, followed by an outburst of voices.

"Father!"

"Jed!"

We were inside the house, someone having quickly opened and shut the door behind us.

Jed didn't give Lily or Erik chance to speak, laying me down before shouting commands.

"You and Erik need to leave, take Arne to father John!"

His deep voice rumbled authoritatively, bringing some order to the chaotic situation.

"What's going on?"

Lily spoke confusedly.

A moment of tense silence stretched inside the house. In retrospect, it might have been the case that she and Erik were finally taking stock of my condition, realizing I was beyond help.

Footsteps thumped on the wooden floor, approaching my side. I felt hands on my chest, neck, shoulders and face.

"By the Light Jed, he isn't breathing!"

Lily grew more frantic as she touched my face, holding her fingers in front of my mouth and nose. Her concerned behavior would've surprised me if I was lucid, but the sounds reaching my ears had lost all meaning, becoming nothing more than white noise.

A series of heavier stomps followed before a big hand grabbed my shoulder, rolling me from my stomach onto my side. Then, I heard a heavy rush of air, something slamming into my chest just below my heart.

My foggy eyes opened wide, blood, mucus and saliva spraying out of my nose and mouth. On instinct, my body drew in a long, shuddering breath, immediately giving way to a series of wracking coughs.

'For the love of God, just let me die!'

Injured and poisoned as I was, there was simply no way to survive the journey from our farm to Westbrook. Not only that, but lugging me around would worsen my family's chances of survival.

There was a burst of arguing above me, words I could barely make out.

Suddenly, I heard a loud collision before something or someone crashed to the ground.

Silence followed this sudden outburst. Then, Jed said something, his deep voice rumbling low and grave.

My thoughts were hazy and feverish, barely registering what went on around me. However, a pair of hands grabbed me, lifting me into the air—that, I registered. The pain was too much for my battered body, surging into my brain like a bolt of electricity.

I promptly lost consciousness.

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I barely remember waking up to jostling and shouting. Though my eyelids creaked open, the images and sounds reaching my senses had no meaning.

It's difficult to describe—the only thing I can liken it to is a strange disease. I can't remember the name, but it's basically something like being unable to distinguish one person's face from another, no matter how many times you see them.

Regardless, what I did experience vividly was my death. It was surprising that I managed to cling to life for so long, but my injuries were too severe.

You'd expect more… I don't know, fanfare for an event so significant as death. I wish I could make it seem more heroic. Unfortunately, I just… bled out.

Death was something I could speak at length about, having experienced it twice. However, I'll refrain from being too long winded.

It felt like falling. Though, I don't have a reason for feeling that way, given there was no rush of wind or scenery passing by—it just… did. Hmm, maybe instead of falling, it would be more appropriate to describe it as sinking, being drawn deeper and deeper into a bottomless abyss.

I began to lose awareness, like I was being crushed and compacted into a single grain of sand, my thoughts and memories squeezed out like water from a sponge.

Except, unlike last time, I didn't continue sinking toward the bottom.

Suddenly, a beam of light broke through the water's surface far above my head—weak and diluted, barely managing to reach me. It carried a sense of warmth, along with faint voices and images. It was pleasant, like moving out of the shade and into the sun on a cold day.

However, before I could properly enjoy the heat, the light intensified. In a single moment, the temperature went from comfortable to overbearing, like a toilet being flushed while you're in the shower. On instinct, I tried shielding my eyes and moving away, but my body was completely locked down.

I started writhing in agony, feeling like I was being burned alive as the heat grew more intense.

I wanted to scream, but I had no voice. In mindless desperation, I struggled against whatever was holding me down.

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Soaked in sweat and breathing hard like I'd just run a race, I sat up, sending hay-stuffed pillows and coarse blankets flying in all directions. I was completely disoriented, the environment not being familiar at all.

My eyes rolling around in my sockets, I analyzed the surroundings—a tiny room with wooden flooring, walls and a single chair.

Before I could reach a conclusion, I suddenly felt a sharp pain near my back, involuntarily rubbing the spot. Twisting my neck, I examined the patch of skin. There was a red, swollen scar, but no arrow.

'Wait, no arrow?"

In an instant, the chaos of last night returned to me like recalling a fever-dream. Much of what I remembered was incomprehensible, but I was certain of one thing—I shouldn't have been alive right now.

For a moment, I simply sat there in silence, not having a clue what happened. However, I soon steeled myself, taking a deep breath. I needed to check on my family before worrying about anything else.

With a groan, I climbed to my feet. My whole body was sore, like a dozen thugs had spent all night whacking me with clubs.

A thin beam of grey light filtered through the shabby ceiling, shining into my eyes. While it was clearly day, the color was such that I couldn't judge the time at all.

Making my way over to the door, a gust of wind blew through the cracks. I smelled smoke on the wind.

Starting to feel panicked, I shoved the door open. I had a vague idea about there being an invasion before the events of Warcraft 3, but no clue about the date.

However, I'd always consoled myself knowing I'd receive some kind of warning before it happened. I mean, the Horde couldn't just suddenly show up at Stormwind's doorstep without someone noticing, right?

Exiting the small room, I found myself outside. The sky was grey, an ashy cloud rising from the west. It didn't bode well at all.

Whipping my head around, I soon had an idea of where I was—the detached building was on church grounds in the center of Westbrook. I gazed toward the little stone chapel, hearing subdued voices coming from inside. Looking for some answers, I walked over to the side door, pushing it open and heading inside.

The creaking hinges, as well as my feet thumping against the lacquered, wooden floor immediately attracted attention.

"Who…?"

A man's voice, both familiar and expected, reached my ears. It belonged to father John, the local priest.

"It's Arne."

After clearing my throat, I answered in a dry, hoarse voice. The old bastard definitely knew I was here, so there was no need for lengthy introductions.

I heard a sharp intake of breath, sounding like it came from a woman. Then, there was a flurry of light footsteps before Lily's figure suddenly appeared from around the corner.

"Arne, thank the Light, you're alive!"

Wearing a look of relief, she approached me hurriedly before coming to stand an arm's length away. For a moment, it looked like she wanted to hug me, but then my stepmother retracted her hands.

Her appearance puzzled me, but I shoved such concerns to the back of my mind for the time being.

"Lily, what happened? How am I...?"

My eyebrows furrowing, I touched my back just below my ribcage, feeling the arrow-scar. Not only did I doubt they'd gotten me to Fat Bastard in time, but even if they did, the old pervert wasn't on the level of performing any miracles stronger than [Minor Healing].

Lily bit on her lip, looking at me with a complicated expression. Somehow, she seemed both worried and excited.

"Arne, your brother… Erik, he was… chosen by the Light!"

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