Hézo
Present — Fire Tribe
In the shadowed depths of the Fire Tribe, night wrapped around a trembling figure. The sky was torn by the chaotic wings of a flock of crows; their mocking caws rang out like a funeral litany.
Hézo, sword in hand, pounded the earth with furious force. He turned the soil, casting handfuls into a yawning pit as if he could bury his pain with the dirt. Each movement betrayed raw rage, a grief so deep it seemed tangible in the air.
Handful after handful, the red earth, mixed with his tears, slowly covered Méhari's emaciated body. Even disfigured by burns, she remained to his eyes the most beautiful woman in the world. His mother. His only anchor, his light in a palace that had become a prison. Between a distant father and a cruel stepmother, he had survived only by clinging to the memory of her laughter and the stubborn hope of seeing her again. He had thought that finding her would make him happy. He had not foreseen the tragic fate that awaited him.
Hézo howled.
Who had said men weren't allowed to weep? What did such absurd rules matter!
Each time he drove his sword into the ground, he imagined plunging it into Dyandra's heart, then into his father's. How could human beings be so cruel?
The memory of his judgment cut him like a blade. Dyandra had had him expelled from the palace without so much as a struggle. That hadn't been enough — her men hunted him for hours until he barely escaped death. If Selom hadn't secretly helped him with a horse and a sword, he wouldn't be here. She had tears in her eyes, but her hands were tied. She could not have done more.
It was with that sword that Hézo had dug Méhari's grave. Far from the palace's splendor. Far from Ardara.
When his arms finally gave out from exhaustion, he sat at the edge of the grave, stare hollow. One thought still burned in his ravaged heart: vengeance.
He had nothing left to lose. Nothing left to love. So he would rise again. He would crush those who had stolen his mother, and with her, his childhood.
He knew he was still too weak. But that would change. He had to become strong. Incredibly strong. A power beyond the ordinary, able to crush anyone who stood in his way.
***
At the first light of dawn, Hézo set out for Edo, the capital of the Sinji kingdom. Two days' ride lay ahead of him.
He did not know what he would find there, but he had to put distance between himself and the Fire Tribe before Dyandra's men caught up.
Edo, vast and teeming with life, bristled with mysteries. Perhaps he would meet a master of the martial arts, or — who knew — stumble upon a relic of forgotten power. Though the latter was likely only a dream.
A rumbling in his stomach cut through his thoughts. He realized he had eaten nothing since the day before. Making use of the remaining woods along his path, he picked a few fruits and berries. It would not sustain him long. He would need money, weapons, and supplies. He bit his lip. The road to vengeance would be long. But he was ready to walk it. No matter the cost.