The morning light filtered weakly through the small, grimy windows of the cottage, painting the room in muted gold. The forest outside whispered softly, indifferent to the chaos that had swallowed my world the night before. I stirred from my uneasy sleep, careful not to wake Alex, who lay curled beside me, still pale from exhaustion.
I rose quietly, every muscle aching from the flight through smoke and fire, and stretched, my eyes scanning the modest interior. The cottage had been spared from the destruction that claimed our home, a quiet sanctuary my father had purchased long ago. Now, it felt like both a refuge and a tomb—a reminder of the blood spilled and the lives stolen.
The fireplace still held faint warmth from the night before. I moved toward it, thinking about what had brought us here: betrayal, greed, and the cruel twist of family ambition. My father had known this day would come. He had prepared us as best he could, leaving behind enough provisions for a short escape, but nothing could have prepared me for the magnitude of loss.
Food, water, and a small chest in the corner caught my attention. The chest was locked, simple but sturdy, and I recalled the last words my father had whispered to me as we fled the burning estate: "Protect it… no matter what. It's everything." I knelt, carefully lifting the chest's lid, and found it—a neatly folded map, aged and creased, its surface filled with cryptic markings and symbols. My heart thudded painfully in my chest. This map was the key, the only thread connecting me to the empire that had been stolen from me, and the first step toward reclaiming everything my uncle had tried to take.
I studied the map, tracing the lines with a trembling finger. My father had left no instructions beyond the treasure's location, but the details were clear enough to tell me that this was no ordinary wealth. It promised power—real, tangible power that could decide the fate of the empire. And now, it was mine to protect. My father had entrusted it to me for a reason, and I would not fail him.
I glanced at Alex, still asleep, and felt a wave of both protectiveness and guilt. I had promised my father that I would keep him safe, but how could I ensure that, in a world where death seemed to shadow every step? I swallowed hard, steeling myself. Survival was not enough. I had to act, to prepare, and to plan. And in the quiet of this cottage, I began to do just that.
First, I inspected our meager supplies: dried meats, some grain, water carefully stored in clay jars, and a small assortment of tools. Nothing grand, nothing regal—just what one would need to endure, to survive in the wild until the path forward became clear. I packed what I could carry, layering survival necessities over my worn tunic. Every motion felt mechanical, but it grounded me, giving me a focus I desperately needed.
Next, I returned to the map, tracing the path with more intent, memorizing every twist, every symbol, and every marking that could guide us. I realized then that this treasure would not be given freely. The map hinted at dangers, hidden paths, and trials—tests designed to ensure that only someone worthy could claim it. My father had known that. That knowledge bolstered me. He had believed in me, and I would live up to that belief.
I moved to check on Alex again, brushing the sweat from his forehead. His small hand curled in mine, trusting and fragile. I whispered to him softly, though he remained half-asleep, "We survive. We endure. And one day, they will pay for everything." The words felt heavier than the map in my hands, heavier than any sword I had ever wielded. I could not let the rage consume me yet; I needed clarity, patience, and strategy. Revenge would not come through rashness, but through cunning and persistence.
Hours passed as I prepared. I sharpened a small hunting knife I found in the cabin, checked our limited supplies, and began forming a mental plan for the journey ahead. There were many uncertainties: whether my uncle had spies tracking us, whether the empire's forces would come looking for the crown prince's heirs, and how far I could trust anyone outside our family. But one certainty remained: the Vardar name must endure, and I would ensure it.
Toward the afternoon, a faint sound reached me through the trees—a snapping twig, subtle but deliberate. My hand went to the knife at my side. I crouched by the window, eyes scanning the forest. Shadows moved between the trees, too cautious for animals, too deliberate for chance. Someone—or something—was out there. I could not tell if they were friend or foe, scout or spy, but I knew enough: our sanctuary had a limit. Staying hidden would not be an option forever.
I turned back to Alex, who had now stirred fully, blinking sleep from his eyes. "We have work to do," I whispered, determination hardening my chest. "The empire, the treasure, the throne… it's all waiting for us. And I promise, Alex, I will not fail. Not now. Not ever."
The forest outside remained silent, but I could feel its presence, like a living entity watching, waiting. My journey had begun. The blood of my family cried out for justice, and the map in my hands was the key. Tomorrow, I would take the first real steps toward vengeance. And this time, nothing would stop me.