Chapter 1 - Mercy
(The Giant's Run mountains, 5 years ago.)
He didn't notice how hard his hands were trembling until he saw the tip of his sword quivering above the man's chest. He was lost there, in that moment of reflection. Too dazed even to make out the pleading words of the man sprawled out at his feet. The man's hands were clasped, tears stained his cheeks. He called for mercy but it fell upon ears that could hear nothing but the terrified beating of their own racing heart. Ragged, uneven breathing echoed within his helm and only when he felt the cold night air upon his skin did he realize that he, too, had cheeks stained with tears.
"Vessier. Vessier! LANCELYN!!"
Upon the third call of his name he was ripped from the murk that shrouded his mind. He turned his head toward the sound, his gaze falling upon his wounded companion sprawled upon the ground nearby. Like a boy being chastised by his father, Lancelyn's gaze was empty and afraid.
"What are you waiting for?! Do it!!"
He wanted to answer. To plead his case. To explain that taking this beaten man's life was not going to change a thing. If only he'd have known how wrong he was, perhaps he could have willed himself to move. But frozen as he was, he simply stared back blankly as he choked on words that wouldn't come. Fear ruled his body and constricted him like a great serpent. His companion groaned in pain as he dragged himself across the ground, trying to retrieve his own weapon to carry out the grizzly command himself.
But neither of them got the chance. A sudden rush of air blew past them and the conflicted knight turned toward its source just in time to get struck with a concussion that sent him tumbling to the dirt. His ears ringing and his vison blurred, he managed to make out the shape of the man he'd held at sword-point only moments before stepping into a dark, writhing portal. As he vanished into the mystical opening, he looked back. For one brief moment, they saw one another. The fear on their faces mirrored, one a dark reflection of the other. Both young and terrified. One wounded and weak of body. The other haunted and weak of faith.
And then the act gave way to truth, and the shrouded man flashed a wicked, hateful smile. A genuine malice stained his visage -- an unsettling look that would serve as a haunting omen of things to come. The portal closed around him and he was gone.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know-- I couldn't just--"
His words were cut off by the veteran's cold, steely tone. A mix of disappointment and raw anger, he barely held his own emotion in check as he chastised the young knight.
"I know, boy. I know. But your hesitation could have damned countless more lives. And when this is over, we're going to visit each of their graves. I need you to appreciate just what that little moment of yours cost this village. It's not just us who pays the price here."
The two knights recovered and departed from the clearing, not another word spoken between them. The young knight lost in fearful contemplation of what he'd set in motion -- the reality of what happened finally weighing upon him like a mountain. Later that night, he'd utter a prayer -- a desperate plea to a greater power, in hopes of righting what he'd failed to do. It wouldn't bring him any peace.
Ilmater forgive my weakness
and grant me the strength
to do what must be done.
I am but a man
and my heart is weak.
But you teach us to endure,
that we may inspire others to do the same.
Give these people the strength to carry the painful burden placed upon them,
until I may take it back upon myself,
as I always should have done.