A letter

"Father," Maxilin thought, his heart heavy with frustration and sorrow, "I haven't heard your voice in a long time. I know you want me to come back, but I can't. Not yet. I need to know the truth. You always said that my mother was to blame for this mark on my chest, that she lied to us. You said her concern for me was just for show, that she only wanted to use me. But when I asked you where she was, you never had an answer. You always stopped before telling me the whole story. You never believed me when I said that she would never do something like that to me. You never trusted me to understand."

Maxilin's grip tightened as his thoughts grew more intense. The rain continued to pour down, soaking him to the bone, but he barely noticed. "Father, why do you hate her so much? Why won't you tell me what really happened? Every time I asked about her, you ignored me, just like everyone else. You kept saying that when the time was right, I'd know the truth. But when will that be? What are you hiding from me?"

Maxilin sighed, his breath visible in the cool, damp air. He pulled his sword out of its sheath and touched the blade gently, tracing the line of the edge with his finger. The sword was an ancient relic, passed down through generations of his family, and embedded in the hilt were seven slots meant for gems.

But now, only one gem remains.

 The others had been stolen, and the sword felt incomplete, as if it held secrets that were just out of reach. "Who took them?" Maxilin wondered, his eyes narrowing in thought. "What do they want with them?"

Suddenly, the remaining gem began to glow. A soft, pulsing light emanated from it, casting a faint, ethereal glow on Maxilin's face. 

Maxilin's senses heightened as he felt the familiar tingling in his chest, the sensation that always preceded something dangerous. His grip on the sword tightened, and he slowly scanned his surroundings. The night was thick with the scent of rain and earth, but beneath it, he could sense something else—a presence, subtle yet unmistakable. The gem on his sword had sparked for a reason.

He heard the faintest rustle of footsteps, barely audible above the rain. His heart raced as he turned, catching a glimpse of a figure darting through the trees. Without a second thought, Maxilin bolted after them, his instincts screaming at him to catch whoever it was.

It didn't take long. With a swift movement, he reached out and grabbed the figure's cloak, yanking it off. To his surprise, the cloak came away easily, and he stumbled back, clutching the fabric in his hands.

His eyes widened in shock as he realized that the figure was a young woman. Her face was partially hidden by a mask, and her long hair, tied in a ponytail, swung wildly as she moved. Maxilin barely had time to react before she leaped gracefully into a nearby tree, vanishing into the shadows as if she had never been there at all.

He stood frozen, staring at the spot where she had disappeared, the damp cloak still clutched in his hand. 

 "Who is she?" Maxilin thought, his mind racing.

"Why did she flee as soon as I saw her?"

Maxilin sniffed the cloak, catching a faint scent of jasmine. The fragrance was delicate, almost out of place in the dark, rain-soaked night. It lingered in his senses, stirring something deep within him — a memory, perhaps, or a fleeting connection to something he couldn't quite grasp.

He turned his gaze towards the dark woods where the woman had fled. Every instinct told him to pursue her, to uncover the mystery she represented. But something held him back, a quiet whisper of caution in the back of his mind. 

Reluctantly, Maxilin mounted his horse, his thoughts still swirling with unanswered questions. The wind howled through the trees, and the eerie cries of wolves echoed in the distance, mingling with the beating of his horse's hooves as he galloped back towards the fort.

The morning sun barely peeked through the thick clouds when Evan began his frantic search for Maxilin. His voice echoed through the corridors of the fort, growing more urgent with each unanswered call. The fortress, usually bustling with activity at this hour, felt eerily silent, as if something important was missing.

Evan's calls grew louder as he reached Uncle Wyiner's door, his fist slamming against the heavy wood. "Uncle Wyiner, Uncle Wyiner!" His voice was laced with worry.

From down the hall, Benneth emerged, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What's the matter, Brother Evan?" he asked, sensing the tension in Evan's tone.

Evan turned to him, his brow furrowed. "Have you seen Maxilin this morning, Benneth?"

Benneth shook his head, concern growing on his face. "No, I haven't. I even checked the barracks, but he wasn't there."

Evan's eyes narrowed in worry, and he resumed his calls. "Uncle!"

The door suddenly creaked open, revealing Wyiner. But instead of the usual stern expression or a word of rebuke for the noise, Wyiner stood there silently, holding a letter in his hand. His face was drawn, his eyes dark with the weight of what he had just read.

"Uncle," Evan began, but his voice trailed off as he noticed the letter. "What's that?"

Wyiner sighed deeply, his gaze distant as if he were still processing the words written on the paper. He handed the letter to Evan without a word.

Evan took it hesitantly, his heart sinking as he read the familiar handwriting.

Last Night

Maxilin returned to the fort drenched by the rain. He went straight to his room, his thoughts swirling with decisions that weighed heavily on his heart.

He sat at his desk and pulled out a piece of parchment, his hand trembling slightly as he dipped his quill into the ink. The words came slowly at first, but soon they flowed with the resolve he felt deep inside.

'Uncle,

You do not need to be concerned about me. I believe that I am capable of dealing with this issue on my own. Also, I don't think it's a good idea for you to inform your brother about this. So it's best not to tell him anything.

Your nephew,

Maxilin.'

Maxilin folded the letter carefully, sealing it with a drop of wax. He placed it on his uncle's desk.

Back to the Present, 

Wyiner's eyes narrowed as he looked up at Evan and Benneth, who were both waiting for answers. The tension in the room was palpable, and Evan couldn't shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong.

"Uncle, what is it?" Evan asked, his voice tinged with worry.

Wyiner sighed deeply, as if the weight of what he was about to say was pressing down on him. "Evan," he began, choosing his words carefully, "Maxilin isn't here."

Evan's eyes widened in disbelief. "What are you saying, Uncle?"

Wyiner hesitated for a moment before explaining, "I sent him somewhere."

"What?" Evan's voice was sharp, filled with a mix of confusion and frustration. "You sent him alone?"

Benneth chimed in, equally concerned. "Sir, did you really send him alone on a mission?"

Wyiner's expression hardened as he replied, "Benneth, it doesn't matter."

Evan couldn't believe what he was hearing. "How can that be unimportant, Uncle?" His voice rose, echoing through the room.

Wyiner met his gaze with a steady look. He knew Evan's concern for Maxilin was genuine, but there were things Evan simply couldn't understand — at least, not yet. "Maxilin is young, but he's capable. He knows what's good for him and what's not."

Evan's shoulders slumped slightly, his eyes dropping to the floor as he asked quietly, "Uncle, where did you send him?"

Wyiner took a long, measured breath before responding. "Evan, this is a top-secret mission. I'm not allowed to tell anyone about it."

Evan looked up sharply. "But you can tell his father about it, right? He has a right to know what's happening to his son."

Wyiner's expression softened slightly, understanding the turmoil in Evan's heart.

 "Let me handle this, Evan. When the time comes, I'll inform my brother."