After what felt like an endless walk, the family finally emerged from the eerie ruins of Ardenvale and reached the gentle banks of River Veylin. The sight of the clear, flowing water brought a wave of relief, and they all collapsed onto the soft earth, their exhaustion evident. The cool breeze carried the scent of water and wildflowers, a welcome contrast to the ash and ruin they had left behind.
"We'll be safe here," the father said, his voice soft but resolute. "We could use a little rest before continuing to Cyradorn. What do you think?"
His words were met with silence. Turning, he saw the mother and the children already succumbing to sleep, their breaths slow and even as exhaustion overtook them.
The stillness was broken by a low, whispery voice. "Father... what happened to Ardenvale?" Ryker asked, his eyes half-shut, teetering on the edge of dreams.
The father chuckled quietly. "Oh, I see you've finally gathered the courage to ask. Why wait until now?"
"I was scared," Ryker admitted, his words barely audible.
"A man, scared?" the father teased gently. "That's interesting."
"For a man in danger, fear is often a good thing," Ryker replied, his voice slow and measured. "Only in the face of fear can real bravery truly show."
The father smiled at his son's words, impressed by their depth. "Who taught you that?"
"Zeth," Ryker murmured, his voice growing fainter.
"Ah, your sword instructor. A wise man. I can't say he's wrong."
There was a brief silence before Ryker's voice broke through again, even softer now. "Father... Ardenvale."
The father sighed, leaning back and gazing at the moonlit river. "Alright," he began, his voice heavy with the weight of the tale. "But you must know, my knowledge is limited."
He paused, looking toward Ryker, who gave a slow nod of encouragement, though his eyes were almost fully closed.
"Five days ago, I received the news: Ardenvale had fallen. They say it began at night. Men on horseback rode into the city, their numbers immense-twice the size of Ardenvale's armies. They were cloaked in black, and many believe they wielded dark magic. They came without warning, moving like a shadow through the land, consuming everything in their path. Their soldiers were formidable-each one said to be as strong as five of Ardenvale's finest warriors.
"They seized the city, plundering its crops, gold, and jewels. Then, they set fire to everything. By dawn, the once-great Ardenvale was reduced to ashes, its beauty erased. They spared no one to tell the tale."
The father's voice trailed off, and he turned to look at Ryker. The boy had drifted into a deep slumber, his chest rising and falling steadily.
The father smiled faintly, his own exhaustion pulling at him. "Oh, yes," he murmured, lying down on his back. "A boy needs his rest."
The gentle hum of the river and the soft rustle of the wind became a lullaby, carrying them all into the embrace of sleep.
The mother awoke two hours later with a start, her heart pounding against her ribs. She stood, scanning the dark surroundings, her breath quickening as unease gripped her. She gently tapped the father, her fear shining through her eyes.
"I think we should get moving," she whispered urgently.
The father groaned, rubbing his eyes. "We just barely slept. We haven't even recovered from the hours of walking through those ruins," he protested, laying back down in defiance.
"No," she insisted, her voice trembling but firm. "I feel like something is watching us."
The words hung in the air, their weight pulling the father upright. He hesitated, his instincts slowly stirring. Then, with a resigned sigh, he tapped Ryker, Elena, and Thalira. "Time to move."
The children groaned in protest but obeyed, rubbing the sleep from their eyes as they packed their belongings. They set off into the night, their exhaustion dragging at their feet.
The mother's unease only deepened as they pressed forward. Her eyes darted to the shadows, and her steps quickened. "I think... whatever it is, it's following us," she whispered, her voice laced with terror.
This time, the father felt it too-the unmistakable sensation of unseen eyes boring into his back. His pace quickened, and so did theirs.
"Come on, faster!" the father urged. "We have to make it to Skornvale. We'll be safe within their walls."
The walk turned to a jog, then into a frantic run as the feeling of pursuit became undeniable. Every sound-the rustle of leaves, the snap of a twig-felt like a predator closing in.
Their breaths came in ragged gasps, their legs burning with exhaustion as they crested a hill. Relief flickered briefly in the father's heart as he pointed ahead. "We're close! Skornvale is just over there!"
But the relief was short-lived.
Dark smoke coiled into the night sky, blotting out the stars. As they descended the hill, the full horror unfolded before them: Skornvale was burning. Flames devoured the city, consuming every building, every hope they had pinned on it.
Their legs faltered, the weight of despair turning them to jelly. The mother clutched Thalira tightly, shielding her from the sight, while Ryker and Elena stood frozen, their faces pale with dread.
Out of the smoldering gates came a sight that made their blood run cold. A line of men on horseback emerged, their black steeds galloping through the smoke. Dirt and ash billowed around them, obscuring their forms, but their killing aura was unmistakable. They rode like harbingers of death, their presence suffocating, their intentions clear.
The family's hope crumbled, replaced by stark terror. Their end was approaching-swift and unrelenting, riding on horseback.
The father's voice trembled as he shouted, "We have to choose! Now!"
But what choice was there?
Run back into the unknown terror stalking them from the shadows, or stand here and face the death galloping toward them?
There was no clear answer. Only fear. Only darkness. Only the thundering hooves drawing ever closer.