Knights Odyssey

[Kingdom Of Joceus]

[Location: Golden Hearts Hospital]

The messenger's words fell like stones. "My Lord, there were... complications. Your lady—"

He didn't have to finish. Heartache slammed into me, stealing my breath, and turning the world to shades of ash.

Stumbling past him, I broke into a desperate run, rain mixing with the sweat stinging my eyes.

The healer's face outside the birthing chamber told the rest.

Eyes shadowed with pity, she merely shook her head. My bellow of rage sent all the physicians scattering.

Shouldering past, I found them: My beloved wife... drained of colour, my child – horrifyingly small and still – cradled in her trembling hands.

They were cold. Dead. My world shattered at my feet.

...

...

...

Days followed, a suffocating fog of grief and denial.

Hours or days might have passed before another word reached my ears. "Sir Lars...you must rest—" Someone dared touch my arm, and I flung them off.

The home was torture, every corner a cruel reminder. Each beat of my heart felt like a betrayal.

Knights from my order tried to speak reason, to offer hollow words of comfort. Empty. Even with my armour off, they looked at me with pity, at the rope hanging in plain sight, and understood.

There was nothing left, no purpose, no will to endure. This place, once home, held only empty rooms of my hopes and dreams.

[Killer Moga Forest]

[Forecast: rain...]

I... Don't want to live anymore.

I no longer have any will left to live.

...I'm...Tired... All this endless suffering and never-ending pain.

My wife is dead.

My child is dead.

Happiness... just another word now, meaningless as the mud sucking at my boots.

Crunch... Crunch... Crunch...

Each dripping leaf echoed with every crunch, the funeral march for everything I'd ever been.

This lawless forest was but a welcome embrace. At least this accursed place gave honest death, not the slow torment of my empty home.

My fingers traced the frayed rope in my fist. They knew its purpose and had craved it these past empty days.

Branch after branch twisted above, their shadows forming cruel images of a noose. Just one step further, one swing, and then... blessed nothingness.

This was where I was meant to end. There was a branch up ahead, thick and sturdy, perfect for—

"Wahhh!"

The cry snapped me to a stop, thin and piercing through the rain.

I glared into the underbrush, half-expecting to see an enraged mother beast about to defend its young...

Then I saw it. A flicker of movement within a sodden basket.

A mewling... a whimpering... something wretchedly, heartbreakingly alive.

Damn it.

I stumbled back, less from the sound itself, than the shock of its existence. Not even this damned place offered peace.

My hands clenched the rope so tightly that the fibres dug into my skin.

"Wahhh! Wahhhh!" 

That tiny cry... pathetic, a useless protest against the indifferent world. Just like mine.

"I said I was tired!" The words burst out hoarsely, and I sank against a moss-covered tree trunk, the rain pouring on my face, mixing with something warmer, wetter.

Just give up, a voice in my head I barely recognized hissed. What is there left to fight for? Who even needs a pathetic wreck like you?

With a groan, I turned next to the tree, seeing the basket rocking slightly with the desperate movements inside.

"You're making it hard for me to run away and kill myself somewhere else, you know that?"

The bitterness in my chuckle startled even me. Even in my tears this tiny creature, just like the son I'd never held, had me frozen to the spot, debating something other than my end.

The baby's wails had softened into hiccuping sobs, each ragged sound twisted the guilt inside me.

Sighing, I dragged the basket closer, hunching against the tree as a shield against the relentless rain. It took only moments to soak through my thin tunic.

"Shut up, already," I muttered, more to quiet my traitorous conscience than the child.

What good was my grand gesture of defiance now? Even at such a young age, I was already failing.

That was when I noticed it. Faded ink on a scrap of worn fabric pinned to the cradle.

My fingers hesitated, a strange chill seeping into me that had nothing to do with the downpour.

The forest went silent, save for the drip...drip...drip from the leaves. My breath caught.

"Elio."

An image flashed in my mind - my wife, smiling amidst the birthing pains, whispering of names we'd planned, everything we wanted to do together with our child.

A warmth flared briefly within me then left me once more.

Cursing, I ripped a strip from my shirt, carefully wiping the rain from the baby's face.

It bought me an instant of clarity, not of purpose, but of grim certainty.

This place held only death. Perhaps keeping this waif alive felt like one last act of reason.

Yet, as I stared at the baby called Elio, I knew he wouldn't survive the journey back. It wasn't mercy that stayed my hand, but sheer futility.

_________________

Authors Note:

- (Killer Moga Forest is lawless, Meaning: Anyone could be killed on sight.)