Chapter 3: Journey of Despair

**Chapter 3: Journey of Despair**

The simple carriage jolted and creaked as it trundled along the dusty road, carrying Shahil further away from the capital and deeper into the unknown. Daylight streamed through the small windows, casting fleeting shadows across his gaunt face. His body ached from the rough ride, and his mind swirled with the bitter reality of his situation.

The guards escorting him were a constant reminder of his fall from grace. They were vigilant, ensuring he had no chance to escape, not that he had the strength or will to try. They provided him with meager meals, enough to keep him alive but far from satisfying. He watched them as they ate slightly better fare, their laughter and camaraderie a stark contrast to his isolation.

Shahil sat in the corner of the carriage, staring at the meager portion of bread and water in his hands. He had no appetite, his stomach churned more from anxiety and despair than from hunger. He knew he was powerless in this world. His magical aptitude was poor, his only affinity being for wood magic—a type deemed weak and useless. In a kingdom where power and strength were everything, his abilities were a cruel joke.

His father, the king, was a tier 6 wizard, commanding immense respect and authority. Wizards in this world were divided into ten tiers, with tier 1 being the weakest and tier 10 the strongest. Shahil, despite his royal lineage, remained a tier 1 wizard, barely more than a novice. He could barely summon the smallest of spells, let alone defend himself.

The carriage came to a halt as night fell. The guards set up camp, their movements efficient and practiced. Shahil was given a thin blanket and a spot near the carriage to sleep. The guards, a tier 3 wizard and two tier 3 swordsmen, took turns keeping watch, their presence a constant reminder of his captivity.

He lay on the hard ground, staring up at the star-studded sky. The cool night air bit at his skin, but it was the poison slowly coursing through his veins that truly chilled him. Unaware of its presence, he attributed his weakness and lethargy to the stress and exhaustion of his predicament. His thoughts drifted to the life he had lost, the dreams he had once harbored of a simple, peaceful existence.

Shahil felt a wave of depression wash over him. He had been given a second chance in this world, yet it seemed even crueler than the one he had left behind. He was framed, betrayed by those who should have been his family, and now he was being led to a desolate fate. The idea of death, an end to his suffering, seemed almost welcoming.

His magic, though weak, had given him a connection to the natural world. He could feel the life force of the trees and plants around him, their quiet strength a small comfort in his darkest moments. But it was not enough to change his situation. He was at the mercy of forces far greater than himself, his fate seemingly sealed.

The night was long and sleepless, the sounds of the forest mingling with the distant murmurs of the guards. Shahil closed his eyes, trying to shut out the world, but his mind would not quiet. He longed for an end to his suffering, yet somewhere deep within, a tiny spark of hope refused to be extinguished.

As dawn broke and the journey resumed, Shahil sat quietly in the carriage, his thoughts a turbulent mix of despair and determination. He was powerless for now, but the journey ahead was long and unpredictable. Perhaps, just perhaps, fate had not dealt its final hand.

The carriage moved on, carrying Shahil towards an uncertain future. The road stretched ahead, winding through the unknown, each turn a mystery. Shahil took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead. In this world of magic and might, even the weakest could find their place, and he was determined to find his, no matter the cost.