Chapter 7 – The Concealed Fate and Agony
Day 2
Meanwhile, Shawn’s grandfather watched silently, his thoughts wandering. “I had hoped to shield him from this inevitable fate,” he mused to himself, “but it seems fate had other plans.” His musings were interrupted by the sound of sword quenching and Shawn’s call, “Look, Grandpa! I’m done!” Shawn exclaimed, holding up the sword for his grandfather to inspect. Exhausted yet exhilarated, Shawn awaited his grandfather’s assessment.
Taking the sword in hand, Shawn’s grandfather examined it closely. “Indeed, it’s a fine blade,” he acknowledged with a nod. “It still needs some finishing touches, but it’s nearly done.”
Just then, a sense of foreboding washed over Shawn’s grandfather. He felt a shift in the air, a subtle but unmistakable presence of danger approaching the village. Even as the village lay asleep, unaware of the impending threat, Shawn’s grandfather knew they had little time before whatever lurked outside their peaceful walls made its move.
Outside the village’s barrier walls, the early twilight mist hung low, creating an eerie, muffled silence. Two guards were stationed with lampsticks flickering through the air and an alarm bell at the west entrance gate. One lazily leaned back with his eyes closed and a hand behind his head in semi-sleep, while the other kept watch over the sleeping village. The alert guard suddenly heard a sound from the forest and squinted into the mist, noticing a mysterious shape forming. He nudged his semi-sleeping colleague. “Hey, wake up. Look, there’s something approaching in the mist.”
His colleague, still groggy, mumbled, “It’s probably just a wild animal attracted to the fire or your shadow against the fire.” But the alert guard kept his eyes on the growing shadow, trying to make out what it was. As he strained to focus through the mist, he raised the lamp against the shadow. Suddenly, a sword surged forward, spinning from the shadow, and in an instant, his head was silently severed from his body, rolling to the ground, while his headless body fell back into the seat.
The semi-sleeping guard, noticing the abrupt silence from his partner, “Hey, are you scared by your own shadow that you became speechless?” He stretched, opened his eyes, and turned toward him. His eyes widened in horror at the sight of the headless body slumped by the gate. Before he could cry out, a shadowy figure emerged from the mist and plunged a blade into his chest. The guard gasped, then coughed up blood, unable to utter a sound. Struggling to comprehend what had happened, he saw a soldier in black-grey armour plunge his sword into his chest. As his vision blurred, he saw three more figures in similar attire emerge from the shadows of the forest and approach.
The soldier who had stabbed him twisted the blade, preventing any attempt to call for help. The guard coughed up more blood, realising his end was near, and reached out to pull the rope attached to the alarm bell. Just as his fingers brushed the rope, another soldier hurled a sword, severing his hand. The soldier withdrew his blade, wiped the blood on his shoulder, and said coldly, “Your sacrifice is for the glory of King Azure.”
As the guard’s life ebbed away, he closed his eyes in regret, having failed to protect the village. The three soldiers, led by their imposing leader, moved silently through the gate. The leader, a figure of authority and menace, glanced around the darkened village. “As per General Mozat’s orders, we will wipe out this village like others before sunrise and move on with our mission,” he commanded.
The other three soldiers nodded in unison. The leader turned his gaze toward a house with a faint light still glowing inside and smoke curling from the chimney uphill, on the other side of the village over the slope. “And we start from there,” he said, his eyes narrowing toward Shawn’s home.
Inside Shawn’s house, Shawn’s grandfather sensed the malevolent presence infiltrating the village, heading directly toward them. With a weary smile, he tested the sword crafted by Shawn, swinging it left and right before carelessly plunging it forward toward the wall. It broke the wall and flew north toward the forest, pretending it had slipped from his grasp. “Oops, my hand slipped. Could you go fetch it, Shawn?” he asked mischievously.
Annoyed at the jest after a long night of forging and crafting the sword, Shawn retorted, “Come on, Grandpa, you don’t need to test it that much.” Shawn went out of the house and stormed into the forest in search of his sword.
Once Shawn had left, a figure took shape silently from the shadowed corner of the workshop. Addressing Shawn’s grandfather with deference, “My lord, the preparations are complete. We await the final link.”
“Excellent,” Shawn’s grandfather replied calmly. “Ensure everything proceeds smoothly without interference.”
The figure asked, “My lord, after all these years of taking precautions to keep the young master hidden, why reveal him now?”
Shawn’s grandfather replied, “This war is the very reason. I once met King Azure long ago, and I know well the kind of man he is. He is not so simple-minded as to wage war on a mere whim, which leads me to believe that something greater stirs, though I cannot yet grasp it. Even I regret placing Shawn in this position. I kept him away from his fate for so long… yet there is no other moment as fitting as this.”
The figure continued, “But my lord, you could end this war in a matter of minutes if you wished. Why force the young master to take up his fate and burden him with such a horrendous task?”
Shawn’s grandfather replied, “I know. The task is far too heavy for Shawn, but this war—I am sensing a hidden power pulling the strings from the shadows. If I were to intervene, I would expose myself—and in doing so, I might strengthen the very cause of those who orchestrated this conflict. The wiser course is to delay their schemes, and the only way to do so is to have Shawn embrace his fate. This… is the only path before us.”
The figure hesitated briefly. “Understood, My Lord! And what about the approaching threat?”
Shawn’s grandfather responded stoically, “You need not concern yourself with it. Just focus on the task at hand.”
The figure persisted, “My lord, once you hand over that power this time, you will become mortal.”
“I am aware of the consequences,” Shawn’s grandfather replied stoically. “I did my best to postpone Shawn’s fate for too long, and I cannot delay it any longer. This is his new beginning.”
With his palm out, Shawn’s grandfather summoned a radiant orb of dark blue light from his chest, which floated and landed in his palm. As the orb took shape, emitting a soft, ethereal glow, the room was bathed in light so bright that its pure energy was palpable. Simultaneously, visible signs of aging appeared on his body: wrinkles etched deeper across his face, his once-strong physique waned, and his height reduced slightly.
The light streamed through the windows, casting a luminous glow that caught the attention of the approaching soldiers, hastening their advance toward the house.
Shawn’s grandfather instructed, “Take this to him swiftly. Time is not on our side.” Handing the orb to the mysterious figure, it floated toward him.
The figure accepted the orb and nodded solemnly. “At once, my lord,” he acknowledged before dissipating into a swirl of smoke.
As the figure disappeared, Shawn’s grandfather, who had stood strong, staggered, leaning heavily on the nearby anvil for support. Breathing heavily, he muttered to himself, “So this is what it feels like to be old.”
The room plunged into darkness. Outside, lightning rolled ominously, casting the workshop into a dim, foreboding gloom, followed by a thunderous clap. Dark clouds gathered swiftly as Shawn’s grandfather navigated through the dimness, clutching at anything for support as his strength faltered and his vision blurred.
A second lightning bolt illuminated the room again. “Shawn,” he murmured, his voice strained with sorrow, “I tried to shield you from this fate.” His words were barely audible over the booming thunder. He staggered forward, whispering, “But this burden is yours to bear, as your birthright.”
A third lightning bolt streaked across the sky, momentarily illuminating the workshop and revealing lurking soldiers behind him. Shawn’s grandfather continued his slow, painful journey toward the door, each step heavier with regret. “If only he were here… things might have been different.”
Unaware of the danger behind him, Shawn’s grandfather pressed on, his resolve dwindling with each faltering heartbeat. The thunderclap resonated as raindrops began to patter on the roof. Impatience seized the leader among the soldiers. With a frustrated grunt, he unsheathed his sword and advanced upon Shawn’s grandfather from behind, slowly thrusting the blade into his back and through his chest, lifting him off the ground with brutal force.
Shawn’s grandfather gasped in agony, unable to resist, blood filling his mouth as he struggled for breath. The soldier forcefully withdrew the sword, leaving him crumpled on the floor, blood pooling around him. Sheathing his sword, the soldier barked orders to his subordinates, “Clear the village now! We’ve wasted enough time.” The soldiers swiftly departed, leaving behind devastation and despair.
Shawn’s grandfather lay motionless, his breathing laboured and shallow. Blood continued to seep from his chest wound, staining the workshop floor as he struggled to draw each agonising breath. The fading light in his eyes, once vibrant and full of life, now dimmed, mirroring the extinguishing fire in the forge.
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