“Of all the monsters I have encountered and vanquished, only one eludes my understanding. To this day, I have no clue what that thing was or where it came from, and a part of me doesn’t want to know. I have no idea how the Zarbarians or any other ancient peoples were able to deal with such a monster. But one thing is certain: there are some questions that will never be answered, and perhaps it is for the best that they remain unanswered. For i fear it could open the mother of all Pandora’s boxes, and frankly, I think Aria and the world as a whole has had enough chaos for several generations, because i sure have. However, for future generations who may come across this text, if you do find an answer, I hope you prove wiser with the answer than I ever could be.” —Excerpt From the memoirs of Cenric Dellcreek.
Cenric awoke suddenly, his green eyes wide open, darting back and forth as he tried to orient himself. Taking in his surroundings, he realised he was lying on a bed inside a makeshift tent, and to his surprise, the iron collar was no longer around his neck. As he attempted to move, he felt a sharp pain, and upon further inspection, he discovered bandages wrapped around his body. Struggling to sit up, he heard a familiar voice nearby.
(“I wouldn’t move around too much if I were you,“) the voice stated with a level of concern. Tharos was sitting on a rather ornate chair on the other side of the tent, watching him with a slight warm smile on his face. Next to Tharos was a smaller table with stacks of several books, one of which was in Tharos’ hand.
(“What happened and how long was I out for?“) Before he could finish, Tharos cut him off.
(“A few days and as for what happened, you fainted,“) Tharos replied flatly, looking up at Cenric as he read his book.
(“What happened to the monster, the city?“)
(“Gone,“) Tharos said in the same flat and bored tone.
(“I see, so where are we?“)
(“We are outside the city, on the southern side, in the remnants of your former master’s camp. Tell me, Cenric, how do you feel?“) Cenric tried to adjust himself in bed as he spoke to Tharos.
(“Aside from feeling a bit sore, I feel fine… Did you…“) Cenric gestured to his neck.
(“Yes, I found the control rod and disabled it for you. No one should be able to track you or influence your behaviour through that collar. You’re a free man now.“) Cenric breathed a sigh of relief and felt a weight lifted off his shoulders.
(“Thank you, Tharos.“) Tharos closed his book and stood up, offering a small smile.
(“Well, Cenric, it seems like you have some choices to make. Once you’re fully healed, I’m planning on leaving, and you’re free to join me. However, once we get out of this wasteland, I will be happy to drop you off at the nearest settlement if you wish to start a new life for yourself. Alternatively, you can keep tagging along with me if you so wish, but be warned that the path I plan on travelling down will be a dangerous one, and I can’t guarantee your safety. So, what do you wish to do? I am not in a rush for a replay, and you may take your time.”)
Cenric pondered his situation deeply for a few moments. He was now free to go wherever he pleased and become anything he desired. However, as a thirteen-year-old boy with no friends, family, or home left, he faced a daunting challenge. He could rebuild what he had lost, but it would be difficult and time-consuming. Nevertheless, it was nothing compared to what he had already been through. Despite Tharos having saved his life, Cenric didn’t fully know or trust him. There was something about Tharos that unsettled him, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. However, travelling with Tharos couldn’t be that bad, could it? Was it any worse than what he had experienced so far? At least Tharos was giving him a choice, the only real choice he had in a long time. Maybe if he stayed with Tharos, he could learn to be as powerful as him. If he were to become as strong as Tharos, then maybe he could help people so villages like his wouldn’t get destroyed, and mages like Eilis couldn’t do what they want, like treating people like cattle. But could he leave the possibility of having a stable life of hearth and home, or would he be willing to risk it all for strength and adventure? As much as he would want that village life, at this point, he feels in his heart of hearts that such a life is unattainable to him, that he has no choice but to embrace the chaos around him. It was with that certainty that he made his choice.
(“I will be happy to join you, and I will follow you to the ends of the earth,“) Cenric declared.
(“Good,“) Tharos responded with a slight hint of joy in his voice, as if this was the outcome he had expected or desired. Cenric couldn’t tell which it was.
(“If I were you, I would rest for now as your injuries haven’t fully healed,“) Tharos advised before turning his back on Cenric and leaving the tent. Little did he know at the time, this choice, this small decision, would colour his life forever going forward, leading down a path that few could imagine, himself included.
A week passed without much incident. The camp itself was a mess, with dead bodies strewn about like loose seeds on an untilled field. It was a horrifying sight that made Cedric’s heartache and the smell of rotting corpses baking in the sun almost made his stomach churn. He struggled to keep the bile welling up from within his throat. In each corpse, in every twisted pale visage, he saw the faces of people he knew or at least recognised. While he wasn’t close with any of these people, in fact, some of them were quite mean to him, he couldn’t help but feel bad for some of them. When Cenric asked Tharos what they were going to do with the bodies, he was rather shocked by the course of action Tharos suggested. Tharos had no intention of burying the bodies and only replied with this when Cenric asked.
(“Let the sands have their due.”)
However, letting them rot in the sand and sun didn’t feel right to him. Even if these people were mean to him, they should at least be given a proper burial. During this recovery period, Cenric would try to dig shallow graves for all these people. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. As he did so, he noticed that some people were missing, or their bodies couldn’t be found: Eilis, Rayner, and Stigr. It was possible that they had escaped or were caught in the explosion that devastated the city. The city itself was now just a massive smoking crater with loose rubble that the sands would eventually reclaim. It was a sorrowful sight to witness the destruction of such a magnificent city, but it was preferable to allow those monsters to roam freely. For those who died in the city, it served as a funeral pyre befitting a king, offering a fitting send-off.
“Goodbye, Thorag,” even though Cenric may not have liked or known Thorag well, he was the closest thing he had to a friend, and giving him this send-off was the best thing he could do. Cenric gazed at the burnt-out remnants of Zarbar one last time, contemplating his next move. After a week had passed and he was fully healed from his injuries, Tharos and he gathered the supplies, and they were now prepared for the journey ahead. They were set to leave the desolate ruins of Zarbar behind forever and venture through the dead lands to reach Civilization. Their destination was unknown, their fates uncertain, with only the sun and stars to guide them. With a brief flash of sunlight, they turned their backs on Zarbar, embarking on their journey into the grand wide unknown.
To be continued.
