Chapter 4- The mine
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Jaron stood outside the healer's hut, his knuckles tapping softly against the wooden door. It opened with a creak, and Eluned, the kingdom's healer, stepped out. Her eyes were warm but filled with quiet urgency.
"Let me examine Itachi," she said at once, motioning him inside. "Please, hand him over. I need to check his condition. Tell me—did he get poisoned?"
Inside, the air smelled of sage and dried flowers. Eluned laid out her healer's tools: small knives, mortar and pestle, bundles of herbs, and vials of glowing liquids.
She bent over Itachi, her hands gentle but precise, her gaze sharp as she studied the boy's pulse and eyes.
"He's suffered magical trauma," she said gravely. "Dark magic. There's residue of a curse clinging to him. I need to prepare a special potion, and it will require rare herbs and a purification ritual to cleanse him."
Kragnir, leaning against the wall, rumbled reassuringly. "The boy will be fine, Jaron. We'll see to it."
Grimbold was already waiting at the training hall for later, but for now, Eluned handed Jaron a slip of parchment.
"Moonstone, wolf's bane, silverleaf, and pure water," she listed. "We must gather them quickly and mix them under the light of the full moon to activate their properties. Kragnir can help you find them."
---
The kingdom's market was alive with voices and the clink of coins. As they wove through the stalls, Jaron asked quietly, "Is it safe to take moonstone from the mines? Won't the king be angry?"
Kragnir chuckled. "Our king is a gentle man. Don't worry about that. We'll get the wolf's bane and silverleaf here, then head to the mine for the moonstone."
At the apothecary and the herbalist's stand, they collected wolf's bane, silverleaf, and a flask of pure spring water. The moonstone mine lay beyond the village walls, and Kragnir's voice grew serious as they approached.
"Careful. Goblins have been spotted here. And not just a few—whole bands of them."
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The mine's tunnels twisted like veins through the earth, shadows stretching across jagged rock. They moved quietly, avoiding the echoing footsteps of patrolling goblins. At last, Jaron spotted the faint glimmer of moonstone in the wall. He took out his pickaxe and began to work.
The sound drew attention.
With a screech, goblins charged, crude weapons raised. Kragnir leapt forward, axe swinging in wide arcs. The fight was brutal—steel clashing, goblin bodies falling and piling at his feet. But for every one cut down, two more seemed to appear.
By the time the goblin leader fled into the tunnels, Kragnir's shoulder was slashed open. He gritted his teeth and growled, "We have the moonstone. Let's get back to Eluned. She can treat me."
---
Back in the hut, Eluned's hands worked swiftly. "We'll clean and dress the wound first," she instructed, applying a bitter-smelling poultice and binding it tightly. She poured a small cup of draught and pressed it into Kragnir's hand. "For the pain."
Itachi watched closely, fascinated and uneasy, as each step of the treatment unfolded.
When she was done, Kragnir lay back, breathing heavily. "More moonstone can be found at the old ruins, northeast of the village," he said, his voice low. "But be warned—they're cursed."
The words lodged in Itachi's mind. *Old ruins… northeast… cursed.*
---
With Kragnir still recovering, Grimbold summoned Jaron to the training hall.
"Bring the child," he said. "I'll teach you how to defend yourself—and him."
The hall was a wide space lined with racks of swords, shields, and bows. Torches lit the stone walls, casting golden light over the straw-covered floor. Itachi stayed close to Jaron as Grimbold handed him a sword.
"Feet shoulder-width apart," the old warrior instructed. "Knees bent. Weight even. Keep your back straight, your sword ready."
Kragnir leaned against the wall, nodding in approval as Jaron practiced his stance and strikes.
After a while, Grimbold called Itachi over. "Why don't you try something? Just you and me." For three hours they worked—archery, evasive footwork, and hiding techniques.
When they finished, Itachi went to his father. "I can sense magic," he admitted quietly, "and I'm good at hiding and running." Kragnir added, "He's shown some skill with a bow, but he needs practice." Grimbold nodded. "We can work on that."
---
Itachi threw himself into the training, not just to help—but because deep inside, he feared everything was his fault. If people were in danger, it was because of him.
The nightmare still haunted him: a warrior in black armor, sword of shadow, walking through a land of skeletons. He remembered the sensation—like snakes coiling around his throat. The only word the figure spoke was Malakar. The name alone twisted his stomach into knots.
There was more he didn't tell Jaron.
In the dream, the dark figure wore his father's severed head around his neck—eyes gone, tongue cut out, ears mangled. In another vision, his mother sat on a throne made of bones, crowned with flesh, while the figure stood behind her.
Itachi had begun to believe there was a connection—between the figure, his mother, and his father's fate. The more he saw, the more determined he became to grow stronger, to change the outcome of these visions.
---
Jaron had no idea of his son's inner torment. His own mind was on survival. People here wouldn't protect them forever. If things reached a breaking point, their welcome in the kingdom could vanish. He needed a plan to stay—and to prepare for the long fight he felt was coming.
The king already disliked his presence, but Jaron would endure any hostility if it meant saving his son.
Still… the queen haunted his thoughts. Each time he pictured her, his chest tightened—and so did his anger. How could a mother ignore her child's suffering? How could she turn away when his life hung in the balance?
Jaron pushed the thoughts aside. He had no room for distraction. The battle ahead would demand all his focus—and he suspected Malakar's shadow was already moving closer.
---
Night settled over the village like a smothering blanket, and the training hall lay quiet except for the soft hiss of torches. Jaron sat on the edge of his bunk, polishing his sword with slow, deliberate strokes. Across the room, Itachi tossed and turned in his sleep, breath quick and uneven.
Kragnir had warned them earlier:
> "Dreams can be poisoned. Curses twist the mind while the body rests."
Jaron thought it superstition. Until now.
---
Itachi's body twitched violently. His lips moved, but no sound escaped. His small hands clenched the blanket as though gripping an invisible blade. Jaron moved to wake him — but the moment he touched his shoulder, the boy's eyes snapped open.
And they were black.
Not the dark brown of his usual gaze, but the deep, lightless black of a moonless pit.
> "He's coming," Itachi whispered in a voice not entirely his own. "The Black Blade. The one who wears father's face."
The air in the hut chilled. Even Kragnir, standing in the doorway, felt the unnatural drop in temperature.
---
Eluned arrived moments later, clutching a small satchel of charms. She pressed a moonstone talisman to Itachi's forehead, murmuring incantations in a tongue Jaron didn't know.
> "This isn't just trauma," she said sharply. "Something is pulling him… calling him. If the boy answers that call, we may lose him entirely."
Kragnir's hand tightened on the hilt of his axe.
> "Then we hunt it down before it hunts us."
---
The next day, Grimbold's training took a sharper edge.
Sword drills became faster, strikes heavier, as though he was preparing Jaron and Itachi not just for defense… but for killing.
Between swings, Grimbold spoke low so only Jaron could hear:
> "That name the boy said — Malakar — it's not just a man. It's a title. The Warlord of the Dead. His blade drinks the souls of those it kills. If he's marked your son… the mark will spread."
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That night, Jaron dreamed.
He was standing in the moonstone mine again, only the tunnels were filled with water — black, churning, and cold. Shapes moved beneath the surface: skeletons still wearing rusted armor, grasping upward with bony fingers.
And there, in the center, stood a figure in pitch armor, holding a sword that dripped shadows instead of blood.
The figure tilted its head and spoke with a voice that shook the walls:
> "When I come for the boy, I will wear your skin so he runs to me."
Jaron woke with his sword in hand and sweat freezing on his brow.
---
The next morning, Eluned approached with a grim look.
> "We need more than herbs now. We need something from the old ruins Kragnir mentioned — something that might protect him from the pull of Malakar. But if the stories are true… the ruins are not just cursed. They are guarded."
Jaron didn't need to ask what she meant. Whatever guarded that place would not let them leave alive without blood being spilled.
Itachi, overhearing, stepped forward.
> "I'm coming too. If Malakar wants me, I want to see the place where his shadow walks."
" Yes Malakar or should I call you Itachi, you can't run from who you are."
Kragnir shook his head, but the boy's eyes held no fear. Only the cold determination of someone who had already seen the worst that death could offer.
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Jaron would have to go back to the mine to get the rest of the things because Itachi wasn't fully healed.