Dex slowly opened his eyes, his eyelids heavy, as if tied by thousands of invisible weights.
The first thing he saw was not the sky, not the ground, but an old wooden ceiling, dripping water through its gaps.
His body lay on an itchy straw bed, wrapped in a thin cloth that smelled of medicine.
His leg, full of wounds, was neatly bandaged with soft cloth, the wound on his leg even felt already healed, but the mark remained red, as if his body refused to be healed.
Dex tried to remember why he could end up here, but no matter how hard he tried all he could remember was the voice and steps of someone.
As Dex was about to stand up, faint footsteps were heard from behind the wooden door, the door creaked softly before revealing an old man, with white hair, carrying a bowl of warm soup in his hand, his face full of wrinkles and his hair completely white.
"Ah, you're awake after all" The man approached while placing the bowl of warm soup on the table.
Dex stared at him without doing anything.
"Keep lying down, don't move too much" he said while slowly sitting beside Dex's bed. "It's lucky that I found you before your wounds rotted completely".
Dex was silent, his tongue wanted to speak but no matter how hard he tried it remained stiff, before a voice came out of his mouth.
"Thank you"
The old man smiled faintly before continuing to speak. "It's alright, it's my duty as a healer"
Silence filled the room, only the sound of creaking wood, and the wind slipping through the gaps of the wall.
The old man spoke again "It feels awkward if we haven't introduced ourselves, people call me Ronan, a healer in this village".
Dex reflexively replied. "I'm Dex"
Dex turned his gaze away.
"There's nothing left" he muttered.
Ronan did not answer, he only stood slowly, taking a dirty cloth from the bucket in the corner of the room and wringing it.
"Come on don't say that, I once thought the same" he said after a while.
"I used to be a royal healer, serving nobles with hands gloved in gold, healing wounds they made themselves through war and greed"
Dex glanced at him briefly.
"And then?"
"And then one day, I finally realized everything, all my mistakes back then, I saw them squeezing the people dry, and committing corruption openly, my heart couldn't bear that guilt, and finally I chose to leave"
Dex wanted to reply, but his throat felt dry, he took the bowl of soup, drinking it slowly.
The bitter taste touched his tongue, but he continued, for the first time in several days, his body received something other than sorrow.
---
Night came, Ronan fell asleep in his chair, while Dex sat staring at the fire in the small stove.
Shadows on the wall moved, dancing like memories that refused to leave.
He remembered his mother's face, his father's smile, the little laughter of his sister, everything felt distant, as if a life that was not his own,
His tears almost fell, but he held them back, crying would not change anything, Dex knew that he had to continue living, and accept it.
But in that silence, he heard something outside, the sound of footsteps among wet soil, not heavy like Ronan's, lighter, more trained.
Dex sharpened his ears, the sound stopped right in front of the door.
Ronan suddenly woke up, his eyes opened wide. "Stay silent" he whispered quickly.
He reached for the wooden staff nearby and walked toward the door.
From outside, a heavy voice echoed, accompanied by loud knocks.
"Healer Ronan! We know you're inside! Open the door!"
Dex tensed up, the tone of that voice was not one of asking for help, but of command.
Ronan didn't answer, he only looked at Dex briefly, giving a sign to remain quiet.
The knocking turned into kicking. The door shook hard. "Open, or we'll burn your place!"
Ronan finally sighed and opened the door slowly, outside, three men stood wearing worn clothes but armed, one of them wearing a breastplate with a symbol Dex recognized, a wolf devouring the moon
The Vaundrel family
"What are you doing here" Ronan replied cynically.
But as if used to it the soldier replied. "we're looking for remnants of rebels from Taren Village, they said you often shelter the wounded, we came to check, if you're hiding them, you know your own punishment.
Ronan glared at them angrily. "Even though I knew you were corrupt, I didn't expect the Vaundrel family to be this rotten"
"Watch your words Ronan, we could take that as an act of insult" they replied harshly, pointing the tip of the sword toward Ronan's neck.
"Don't talk too much!" One of the soldiers who had been silent spoke, and pushed Ronan, forcing his way in. "We'll check ourselves"
They entered without permission, Dex, still weak, forced himself to sit, his breath heavy.
Ronan glanced at him briefly, his eyes giving a sharp warning to stay quiet.
But one of the soldiers noticed that small movement.
He approached, and his gaze immediately caught sight of Dex in the corner of the room.
"Hah, what's this?" he said mockingly. "A young man with bad wounds, where are you from, huh?"
Dex was silent, trying to hold back the anger starting to burn, but the emblem on their chest made his blood boil.
Ronan tried to distract them. "He's just a boy hurt on the road, nothing to do with..."
"Shut up, old man!" the soldier barked, kicking the table.
The porridge spilled onto the floor, shards of the bowl scattering everywhere.
Something inside Dex broke at that moment.
He tried to stand, but his body was still weak, one of the soldiers laughed seeing him tremble.
"Look, this boy can't even stand, yet he dares look at me with those eyes"
The soldier's hand reached out, grabbing Dex's collar and half-lifting him.
Ronan stepped forward. "Let him go! He's still—"
A hard punch struck Ronan's face, the old man fell to the floor, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
Dex's anger boiled, his heartbeat heavy, fast, and loud, every beat carrying a deep rage.
Dex looked down, seeing the shards of the bowl on the floor, one of them sharp, he remembered how he used to hunt, tearing his prey apart, delivering the fatal strike.
At that moment, Dex's hand reached for it without thinking, in an instant blood splattered from the soldier's neck that was gripping him.
The soldier screamed, clutching his neck torn by the shard.
The other two stepped back in shock, Ronan looked in horror, not because of what happened, but because of Dex's eyes — now empty, the same as the night his village burned.
"Kill him!" one of the remaining soldiers shouted.
But Dex moved first, his body driven not by strength, but by a brutal instinct to survive, adrenaline surging to its peak.
He lunged at his enemy's chest, grabbing his hair, slamming his head into the wooden post.
Blood gushed again,
The clatter of a sword falling echoed on the floor.
Dex grabbed it with trembling hands, turned, and pointed the blade at the last remaining soldier.
"Crazy boy!" the man shouted, backing away. "You'll die for this!"
Dex stared at him with cold eyes. "Die, hahaha, I love death as much as you love life"
A short swing, swift, sharp.
When it was over, only the sound of rain in the distance remained.
Dex stood among three corpses, his body covered in blood, his breath ragged, the sword in his hand trembled, not from fear, but from exhaustion bearing the weight of still being alive.
Ronan slowly stood, gazing at him with old, sorrowful eyes.
"Boy…" he whispered softly. "You've stepped onto a path you can never turn back from"
Dex looked at his own hands, then at the sword now wet with his enemy's blood.
For the first time, he had taken a life, and it felt like all the soup he drank earlier wanted to come back up.
"I know" Dex said quietly. "I'll leave when the sun rises, thank you for your help so far old man"
Ronan let out a long sigh. "Do you know what this means, Dex?"
Dex looked at him. "Yes"
He gripped the sword tighter in his hand.
"It means, I can't die now"