The Lost

As both men left the manor, they looked to the east. Where a sea of green should have been, the life of a field of grass

All that could be seen was a sea of blackness. For not even the rain was spared from the night, only felt as it ran down the guard's bare skin and heard as it pinged against the armour.

For the lord draped in his red cloak, his body was protected from the rain above—all but his head, that is. Even the lord of the manor could not escape the rule of nature itself.

No words were exchanged between them; only the melody of one foot in front of the other was shared. Both men had different things on their minds on this night, one of confusion and the other of conviction.

As they reached the domain of the shack, no door was present, only a hole in the ground. If one wasn't careful, this hole could have easily been a trap for unsuspecting eyes.

They looked down; all they could see in front of them was the glistening rain-soaked stone, chiselled into steps, leading below.

The lord went first, and the guard soon followed behind. As they made their way into a pitch-black room underneath the small storehouse above.

They didn't escape the night; it was just as cold as the air outside. The only thing of warmth that resided here was the bodies in it.

A voice broke from behind the lord.

Guard: What are we doing out here?

No answer came from the front man.

As dark as the night itself, they felt like they had left one abyss and ventured into another.

Guard: I can barely see anything. There must be a lantern around here somewhere. (looking towards the walls.)

As one man searched for the light, another searched in the darkness.

Both of them looked around while gazing into the void, feeling it with their eyes.

Vayreban: The lantern you seek is in the corner. Nonetheless, I have found what I am looking for. (sounding resolute.)

The guard squinted his eyes. Still feeling around the void in confusion, then... something took form.

In the corner of the room, the lantern he yearned for could be seen flickering against the darkness, barely burning and almost fading out. The dying light was dancing on the shape of something. As it rose and fell, it was the breathing of a figure lying down.

Vayreban: So, here you are, hiding in the shadows. I know that you took your sister... (He paused.) NO! I know you took my daughter into the forest again. In doing so, you nearly got her killed. Thank God, thank the Lord, for the work of Eral! He was here to save her. So while she was fighting for her life in the manor, where were you? I know where. You were here, hiding in the darkness. Is that why you slunk into that corner, knowing full well what you did to her?

The silence was the only answer he got in return, but something soft but raspy could be heard coming from the corner of the room, but the guard couldn't put his finger on it.

Guard: What is the meaning of this? Tristyn would never...

The towering man turned to the guard. With hateful eyes, burning into him, cutting him off.

Vayreban: Would what? Speak another word, and the only thing waiting for you in the morning will be your severance. Am I clear? You are a guard of this manor; if I want your opinion, I will ask for it. Until then, shut your mouth! I know enough; it isn't the first time he has taken her out there, and this time it will be the last. Amelia would never enter that forest alone. I don't need the words of Rubern or the all-seeing eyes of the Luminar to know it was his fault!

The guard reeled into himself and reversed until his back was touching the wall. The Lord turned away and returned to his berating of the form in the corner.

Vayreban: Your mother would be ashamed of you. If she was here...

A voice pierced the darkness. The broken voice of a young man.

Tristyn: I am... I'm glad she isn't here to see the man you have become.

As soon as the words ended, another darkness took hold.

The guard only saw a blur; the man standing in front of him entered the abyss. He was towering over the form curled up in the corner. Picking him up with one hand and pulling him from the bed.

No whimpers came; only the sounds of things falling could be heard. The clattering of wood into stone and the smashing of a lantern as he dragged the slumped shadow up the stairs into the night above.

They were outside. The guard watched on as the lord of the manor dragged the young man deeper into the field.

Guard: Sir! Please! This is too much. (calling from the distance.)

The bellowing of wind and rain battering across the field must have muffled the cries of the guard as it whipped up and across the three in the night. Deep down, he knew the Lord could very well hear him; he simply chose not to.

The guard watched on as the lord of the manor raised his fist.

In one fell swoop, it came crashing down across the young man's face. The only thing stopping the boy from hitting the ground entirely was the grip the Lord had on him around his shirt, which was now torn.

The iron hold that held the young man released him into the night. Tristyn slumped onto the wet grass, barely moving; only the notions of life were in his chest, going up and down.

A voice bellowed in the rain.

Vayreban: You dare speak ill of your mother (hateful). You already took one love from me; I will not let you take another. You nearly killed Amelia with your continued stupidity. Did you truly believe she plays with you because she likes you as a brother? NO… She only played with you because she felt sorry for you! Rubern despises you! Louvan couldn't wait to get in the manor and leave that hollow shack you call home; it's only fit for a hollow soul. The guards only protect you because I pay them to...

Once again, the broken voice pierced the horror of the night, interrupting his vengeful father's tirade against him.

Tristyn: I'm glad that she isn't here. (crackled voice.)

Glaring eyes glowed in the night from the towering figure over the crumpled form.

The guard saw the large leg move back from underneath the crack in the red cloak, and then it slammed into the ground, thudding into the body below.

Two cracks could be heard, one from the wall and the other surely from bone breaking.

It was a body hitting against the broken wall.

This time the guard balled his hands and let out a shout; his lord would surely not ignore this time.

Guard: ENOUGH! He has had enough!

Vayreban: So have I! (turning from the guard to the wall.) You are no son of mine; you never were. Just a nameless bastard who took my love from me. I will keep my oath to your mother, but know this: I want you far away from my daughter; you will live in this shack until you are of age, which isn't all that long. Then... I want you gone! I never want to set eyes on you again. (stopping.) There won't be a next time; if there is, I won't stop. May the Lord of Light be my witness to these words.

Vayreban turned away, his eyes glaring at the guard, then back to the manor, draping his cloak over his right arm.

As the rain began to die down, so did the light inside this young soul.

The once curled-up body attempted to get up, falling back into the muddy field. The second time, he stood halfway and dropped to his knees, (breathing heavily.) He was now holding his right arm, which slumped to his side, slowly shuffling to an upright position, using the broken wall as a crutch.

He looked up at the pitch-black sky and walked away with his head down, heading back towards the shack.

Guard: Sir Tristyn... (broken voice)

He had never seen the Lord act like that. Indeed, he had berated and punished the lad in the past—never anything so violent, nothing like this, nothing like the horrors he just witnessed.

thinking of the punishment the young boy's body must have taken.

Guard: I will speak to Eral and get something for you as soon as I can; please stay there, and I will be back later. I will make sure the Lord doesn't find out about it. Please...

Once again, like the lord before, he knew his words were heard but ignored, not even acknowledging the presence of the guard anymore.

Tristyn's head was slumped down; the guard couldn't see that joyful look he knew him for; he never saw him without it. But now, something was different; something inside him was broken that couldn't be healed with time.

He turned and headed back to the manor in search of Eral.

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The young man slipped down the wet steps that led to his home, shuffling through the knocked-over items on the floor. Tristyn made his way to the makeshift cot in the corner that he was dragged from.

In the pitch black, he reached under the bed, fumbling for a few moments, until he gripped onto a metal box with his left hand. He opened it, staring inside. 

The box that he was staring into was now splayed across the room, and the items inside spread into the darkness.

Anger, shouting, and screams of hatred and pain are all mixed into one.

It began to rain again this night. This time, it was the tears of a broken soul.