Episode 3: Flight of the Hearth

  Chapter 007 - Blood in the River

  Rodger ran ahead to clear branches and watch for any threat waiting for them. The path was narrow with walls of stone carved by men to make this road. The mud and gravel slipped him multiple times, and so did the Matron and her servants. He slowed his run, hoping not to slip on the wrong angle and damage the basket. Serana followed with both hands cradling the baby.

  Behind them, the sounds grew louder. There were loud clangs of swords. They didn’t know how long it would be until Xollor came after them. But they didn’t stop.

  As they ran, they began to sense movement above. Rodger looked up and saw bushes and branches rustling as if something had disturbed them. Faint shadowy figures moved through the trees, keeping pace. Their eyes met his. He turned to one side and saw several running alongside them. On the other side, more appeared. They were not alone.

  Two servants ran close behind, eyes fixed on the figures, unsure what to make of them. Their hands glowed, magic ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

  “T–They’re…” one of them stammered.

  “They’re Groggins,” Rodger said, steady and reassuring. He glanced at Serana, who seemed calm, already recognizing who they were. “They won’t interfere with us. They only watch like nocturnal creatures. They may look like us, but they never act or do anything. So don’t worry. We stick to the plan.”

  “Sir,” one of them whispered, but loud enough to hear, “what is your plan with this? Your servants can run with the child and reach the far ends of this one-piece land. We can run until he is no longer an infant.”

  “Yes,” the other followed. “We can raise him and bring him back. The decree is against the infants. Let us keep him.”

  Rodger turned around and replied, “You believe you can outdo those men for a year? Once every child is dead here, all of them will find you. You are outnumbered.”

  The servants got quiet.

  But then distant sounds of water grew louder. The trees opened. The river was there, a wide, slow-moving current. It churned in one place, but was calm in another. As they neared, Rodger ordered them and said, “Guard the path. Give me enough time to play the fool’s game.”

  They nodded, still giving glances of uncertainty. Nonetheless, their feet halted right near the threshold between the road and the broad clearing of sand and water. Rodger stopped near the river’s edge. His boots sank in the mud. Serana stopped beside him. Serana reached his side, breathless and face pale.

  His eyes shook for a second, gazing at the expanse of the river. He looked down where the current went, seeing it turning through a corner and out of his view. The river continued on and on, and he wasn’t sure how long it was. But he knew that this river would be the one to deliver the child from danger. That was his plan. But his chest was hurting. The soft panting and dread from Serana began to affect him, too. He took a deep breath and calmed himself before beginning his plan.

  He went to the waters, his boots submerging, and then his knees. When he lowered the basket to the water, he took a solid look at it. He opened the lid and turned around.

  “It’s time,” he whispered. “Hand me our child.”

  Serana pressed her lips together. She walked up to the river, submerging her ankles and dress into the water. A cold rush invaded her. Wrapped in her warmth, the baby cooed in his sleep, his little mouth moving like it was hungry. She spent all this time staring at him, watching every movement he made. She smiled, yet tears fell. Her hands shook, but were gentle and tender.

  When she was right beside him, she shook her head and said, “I’ll do it…”

  Rodger’s eyes widened a little. With a quiet acceptance, his arms pulled slightly. He stepped aside and let her do a last goodbye to their child.

  Her arms gently set the baby down. She held his neck as he was placed in the basket. When weight was pressed on the basket, both made sure it’d float, which it did. The fact that it floated made them grieve more. Serana’s tear fell on the cloth wrapped around him. Her thumb went to caress his baby skin. She whispered, “Open your eyes. Your mother is here. Take a good look at me, your mother who wanted to see you grow.”

  But the baby kept sleeping.

  “You will be remembered. Even when your eyes are closed. You won’t remember my face, but I will remember you. No matter where you are.”

  She then grabbed the lid and covered the baby. When she couldn’t see his face this time, her eyes closed shut.

  “Forgive me,” she whispered. “This is your mother’s last and arrogant wish… Even when life is hard, when you are living poorly, when everyone is after you to hurt you, keep on living. Live for your mother. I love you, Vynelor.”

  And then, she leaned down and pressed her lips on the lid.

  Rodger knelt beside her. He reached into his coat pocket, and he pulled out a wrapped parchment paper. Unfolding it, a rune appeared, made by Sanpries himself. He crushed the parchment in his hand and sprinkled the rune’s dust on top of the basket.

  The basket flickered. A soft shimmer coated its edges before dissolving into the wood. The brown surface began shifting so that it could be seen through. It hadn’t disappeared, but its presence faded. It became transparent, including the baby inside, being so faded out that it was barely perceptible.

  With a gentle hand rubbing her back, he whispered, “Let him go now…”

  Serana hesitated for just a moment, just long enough to memorize the baby’s shape through the lid. He held her hand, grabbing each finger that wouldn’t let go. With his help, her grip slowly loosened, feeling the basket slide away. Finally, it drifted out of reach, and down the river it went.

  She watched it drift away steadily, following the current as it disappeared behind the cliffs. Her tears fell freely as she said her final words. “Live.”

  Rodger blinked many times to keep himself from tearing, but one fell from him. He watched that same basket go away. The pang in his chest surged as, watching his own child he wished to grow with, vanish. He wanted to punch the water, but then he turned around.

  There was a loud rumble coming from behind. The servants gasped, their eyes pinned in one direction as if someone was coming. Xollor was coming. Through the layer of branches, a glowing blade shimmered on the walls.

  His focus immediately returned. He wiped his tears and cleared his throat. He needed to get the timing right. Reaching into his side pack, he pulled out the second rune, the one Sanpries said would summon the decoy when crushed.

  His eyes shot back at the entrance, at the servants shaking in fear. They faced Rodger, their eyes in full horror. They traded glances, both glaring as if Rodger had lost his mind. They clenched their teeth, shouting at him, “This is your plan?! To set the baby down the river?! He will get killed!”

  “Do not lose focus!” He roared. “Dallain, Ranoa, you will always be our beloved servants! You two meant everything to us! This will be your last order! Fight until you can’t! Do it for us! For our child!”

  Rodger looked away, almost shaking his head. He had to stay silent. He had to wait.

  He waited.

  Waited.

  A blade ran through one of the servants’ bodies. Her piercing eyes grew lifeless, the light fading from her face. With a yank, the body fell. The other servant stood right next to the corpse. She screamed, her hands reaching out to summon magic. But it was too late. Before she knew, the blade slid right through her wrists. And then another slash ran through her neck. All communication and cries were cut clean.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Footsteps continued.

  His shadow appeared on the trees, coming closer until his armor peeked from the corner.

  Now!

  Rodger crushed the rune.

  The dust fell on the water. It floated as more and more piled up on the surface. Suddenly, the powder started to swirl in a circular form. Light grew brighter until no powder was seen. As it dimmed, a new basket appeared. The lid was closed, and it had a hefty weight on it. Inside, Rodger and Serana heard cooing, perhaps an off-tone one that tried its best to sound like a child.

  In this exact moment, Xollor saw the two holding the basket in the river. Rodger was quick, releasing it down the river.

  Xollor stopped. His eyes scanned the water, locking onto the little cargo drifting away.

  Rodger exhaled deeply, bringing Serana with him to the shore. She fell to her knees, remaining absolutely silent. He fell right beside her and placed his hand on top of hers. He whispered with a gentle smile, “We did it… May we rest now…”

  Several figures watched from a distance. Some stood on the upper hill gazing down. Others were on the far shoreline, standing or sitting. But they simply watched, keeping their attention on the two parents who got quiet and still. Then their heads turned to Xollor, who walked up to them with the sword in hand.

  His boots stopped when his shadow was cast above them. There was a pause between the three. Then he said to Rodger, “Are you proud of this? You think you’re a good parent?”

  Rodger was slow to respond, letting the cool air brush against his face one last time. He answered slowly, “I did what I could as a parent. I’m not a failure. Say what you want, but you are more of a disgrace than I—”

  Just then, there was a sharp, clean blade sliding through Rodger’s chest.

  He looked down, seeing a massive blade coming out of his heart. He coughed once, and blood spilled from his mouth. When Xollor pulled the sword out of him, he fell forward with his hand still clenched around hers. Blood poured down the river, turning the water red, and he closed his eyes.

  Serana turned, facing her husband collapsed beside her. His hand quickly lost strength. Her grip shook, and she screamed. She wept with a heavy howl.

  Xollor faced the woman. He raised his blade. But then he paused. Her screams died out, and she made small sniffles. When her breath stilled, she lowered her arms, eyes cast low. Her body shook, lips departing. She saw the blade’s shadow on the river’s surface. Even while she knew where it would land, she kept calm. Unusually calm.

  “Don’t kill him,” she whispered. Xollor looked to the side, taking a deep breath.

  “Close your eyes,” he said softly. The two were silent for a long while. He dragged the time, hoping she’d listen.

  She didn’t.

  Raising his sword, he swung down.

  Her head rolled off, and the body fell instantly. Her blood joined with Rodger’s. The river darkened in crimson.

  Xollor spent no time looking at their bodies. Moreover, he turned his face aside. But he quickly composed himself and looked afar. The decoy floated nearby, spinning around like it was caught in the current’s pull.

  His blade lowered, and he raised his hand at it.

  Adaptation Path — 1/13 Activated

  Telekinetic Magic ? Lv. 42

  The water bent upward, lifting the basket as if it were resting in an invisible bowl. It hovered toward him, dripping on top of the red water. Once he caught the basket with one hand, he deactivated his magic. The bowl of water dropped and splattered.

  He felt the basket move, feeling the “baby” inside it move. Removing the lid, he saw a baby wrapped in a soft cloth. The lips moved, yet it was strange. The skin appeared soft but… off. Xollor couldn’t quite get it. The child went silent, appearing to sleep. His eyes narrowed, knowing something was wrong with it. He remembered that anyone marked by the system would easily be detected; however, his system didn’t seem to react when near the baby. Was it older than one? No, it looks younger. Growing impatient, he decided to raise his sword.

  But before he could strike, the Groggins moved. His head shot up and faced all of them. Their unified movement caused his whole body to face them, almost startled. They walked up to him, eyes unwavering.

  The lead one tilted his head.

  “That is a fake child,” he said. “The real one is further down the river.”

  Xollor narrowed his gaze, giving off a bewildered look. He veered to the basket again that was in his grasp. The baby was clearly moving and alive. He was silent for a good while, still processing what was happening. Now, he was confused whether this was really even one. The Groggins noticed every subtle facial expression he made.

  “We saw her release it down the river,” another clarified. “It is not too far from here. You are holding a spellcast illusion.”

  Xollor’s confusion faded, replaced with clarity as he caught up with the slip-up. He stood still for a moment, his eyes focusing on all of their gazes. With a deep breath, he dropped the basket without any thought. It plummeted to the ground with the baby. And hitting the ground, the basket and the child warped like unstable magic. They evaporated into thin air. Then he turned.

  Adaptation Path — 1/13 Activated

  Quick Speed ? Lv. 37

  His figure whipped across their views, moving toward the steep hill. He dashed up until he was on higher ground. His silhouette swept to the left, moving with the direction of the river. He stayed by the edge, weaving through trees and roots that could trip him. Down and down he went. And then… he slowed down.

  His eyes gazed out far. There was no basket in sight. This only confused him further, his patience growing thin. “You bastards better tell me. Is the baby in the river?”

  “Yes,” one said behind him, “in a basket. An invisibility has been cast on it. You are looking at it right now.”

  That made Xollor keep his eyes still and focus harder. The level of plan that was put into this kept him from speaking further. He didn’t even know that an invisibility spell existed until now. People like Rodger and Serana shouldn’t have had such knowledge. As he thought, all of a sudden, his mind reeled back to the earlier confrontation with the parents.

  You think you’re a good parent?

  The recollection made his hand strangle the hilt of his sword. Then came the response he remembered.

  I did what I could as a parent. I am not a failure. Say what you want, but you are more of a disgrace—

  His Quick Speed activated again, and a vein protruded from his neck. His voice was strained. “You filth. You are nothing more than a slave.”

  Xollor dashed onward, descending the slope and crashing down to the sand. Slowing back down, he ran up to the edge of the shoreline and raised his hand. He knew the basket was nearby. When he looked closer, he noticed a patch of water being oddly cratered. That crater-shaped flowed down the river. Something was pressing it down. That was it. His telekinetic powers activated, the strands reached to cup the water into a small bowl. On top, the basket floated. It swayed back and forth from the disturbance of the water’s surface.

  The bowl of water softly landed on his hand. Then the invisibility spell broke, causing the basket to be revealed in its full form. When he felt the basket, he dropped the water and opened the lid. He saw him. The baby cooed and squirmed, bothered by the constant moving. Xollor stared right at the closed eyes that hadn’t opened yet. His system flickered on, noticing a faint buzz echoing. The decree flared in front of his eyes, the statement he was bound to. He realized… this was the real baby. The infant sucked on its lips as if hungry. But the longer he looked, the more his face quivered.

  He raised his sword.

  The Groggins surrounded Xollor, their black cloaks covering their bodies. Their hoods concealed their pale faces, but their eyes peeked through. They glared at him silently, watching his every move.

  Xollor aimed the blade at the baby.

  They took one step closer.

  Xollor pushed down.

  The sword cut through the baby’s chest, sliding with terrible ease. The fabric ripped from the blade, and the skin split open. The baby flinched, his face scrunching with his mouth jolting open. But Xollor kept pushing deep into his heart. It pierced three inches in the chest, cutting through bones and organs. The baby was trying to scream, but the heart failed. He grew cold. Blood seeped out of his wound. Slowly, the infant got quiet. His breath faded. The chest stopped heaving or gasping for air. The infant… stilled.

  VYNELOR

  –13 HP

  HP: 0 / 13

  Many of the Groggins peeked closer, seeing the baby physically dead. They then looked at each other, appearing to lose that cold focus. All of them appeared to wait like idle people, like they were waiting for orders.

  The man pulled the sword out, the gaping wound expelling large amounts of blood. He dropped the blade beside him. His eyes failed, and he looked away. Finding the lid, he placed the lid on top and covered the baby. Something about this felt foreign to him. Though it was nothing more than warmth. He wasn’t sure where it came from. But seeing the little basket, he recalled Serana looking far. That still, calm gaze. He also looked at the currents, and he brought the basket with him to the depths.

  Xollor lowered the basket and released it down the river. The basket hit the current and drifted, lid closed, baby silent. Afterward, Xollor turned and picked up his blade. And he walked away. His eyes remained low, his grip on his weapon loose.

  The Groggins backed off, watching the elite return to where he came from. They confirmed with one another, their voice echoing among each other, “The child is dead. Return to Code 1.”

  Then their shadowy shapes melted. Black fog filled the area as all of them merged to the ground. They sank lower and lower until their heads vanished. When they disappeared, the mist also faded. What was left was an empty shore. A quiet shore.