The warning bells shattered the silence of dawn, their frantic clanging slicing through King Aldric's thoughts like a blade.
He rose sharply from his seat, heart lurching.
gods be merciful… protect my son.
Sleep had never come to him that night. Not once. He had sat alone in his chambers, staring into the dying embers of the hearth, replaying every word, every look, every failure. His mind had traced Randall's possible paths over and over,through the forests, past the villages, toward the borders of Glandow or perhaps deeper into the wild where men feared to tread.
I should have given him food.
The thought burned.
Water. A cloak. Anything.
What kind of father sends his son into the night with nothing but fear and hope?
He pressed a hand to his brow, fingers trembling. Randall was strong,stronger than most men his age,but strength could only carry a man so far when hunger gnawed at his belly and terror chased his heels. Aldric had seen seasoned warriors collapse under less.
He whispered a prayer, not to the gods of temples and rituals, but to the old spirits,the ones his mother had taught him about as a boy. The spirits of the land. The watchers of the forests.
Guide him, he begged silently. Hide him. Give him swiftness where I could not.
Randall.
His firstborn.
Conceived not in sin, as Noria would claim, but in stolen moments of warmth and laughter. In love,fragile, fleeting, but real.
His firsborn son conceived in love but lived a life full of hatred.
Aria's face rose in his memory, pale and fading as she lay on her deathbed years ago, her eyes dull but trusting.
"Promise me, " she whispered. Promise me he will not be punished for our choices."
Aldric's jaw tightened.
Coward, he thought bitterly. That is what I am.
He had fought wars. Slain men twice his size. Led armies through blood and fire. Yet he trembled before one woman's wrath. One crown he wore yet did not truly wield.
Footsteps echoed outside his chamber, hurried and sharp. A guard appeared at the threshold, breathless.
"Your Majesty," the man said, bowing hastily. "The search continues. No word yet."
Aldric nodded stiffly, dismissing him with a wave. He already knew what that meant.
Noria had commanded it herself,no guard was to return without Randall. Dead or alive.
And they would obey her.
The laws of Glandow were ancient, merciless things. Bastards had no protection. No inheritance. No voice. The sins of the father were written into the flesh of the child, and no king,no matter how mighty,was meant to interfere.
Aldric stared at the stone walls of his chamber, feeling smaller than he ever had upon the battlefield.
All he could do now was wait.
And pray to the gods and spirits of the forest that his son was faster than the hounds.
********
Four villages away, fear moved with bare feet through dirt and thorns.
Randall lay crushed into the earth inside a barn that smelled of old hay and damp wood, his chest barely rising as he struggled to keep his breathing silent. Sweat slicked his skin despite the morning chill, and his muscles screamed from exhaustion.
Outside, the guards' voices cut through the air like whips.
"Check the rocks."
"Spread out."
"The queen will have our heads if we miss him."
The hounds growled low, claws scraping against stone. Randall squeezed his eyes shut, heart pounding so violently he feared it would betray him. He tasted bile, fear thick on his tongue.
This is it, he thought. This is how I die.
The barn door creaked open.
Boots thudded against the ground. Light spilled in, blinding him for a moment. He shrank farther into the narrow hole at the far end of the barn, wedged between broken crates and rotting boards. The space was so tight his shoulders burned, but desperation had driven him in.
A small figure darted inside.
"Hurry," a whisper breathed urgently. "They're onto you."
Randall barely had time to react before small hands tugged at his arm, guiding him deeper, pushing loose straw and wood to conceal the opening.
"Climb in here," the boy whispered. "I hide here when I don't want chores. No one will look twice."
Randall obeyed without thinking. Fear had stripped him of pride. Of dignity. Of everything but the will to live.
Footsteps grew closer.
"Hey, boy!" a guard barked. "What are you doing back there?"
The child straightened, eyes wide but steady.
"Nothing, sire," he said quickly. "Just looking for my rabbit."
"A rabbit?" the guard scoffed. "Now?"
"Yes, sire," the boy replied, voice clear. "A big one. You see, I caught it yesterday. It was right here… but it's gone."
The guards exchanged glances, irritated.
"We don't have time for this," one muttered. "Search the house. If he's not there, we move on."
They stormed out of the barn, their armor clanking, voices fading as they crossed the yard.
Randall stayed frozen long after the sounds disappeared.
Only when silence truly settled did he finally release the breath he'd been holding. His lungs burned. His body shook.
He crawled out slowly, collapsing against the barn wall.
Alive.
For now.
The boy stood there, hands clasped behind his back, watching him with a mix of curiosity and pride.
"Wait here a bit," the child said seriously. "They might still be around."
Randall swallowed hard, his voice rough when he spoke. "Thank you. You've… you've saved my life."
The boy shrugged. "Are you running away? The guards said you're dangerous. Must be something big for them to hunt you like that."
Randall shook his head. "I'm not a bad person. I've done nothing wrong. I'm just… a victim of injustice."
The boy studied him for a moment, then nodded as if that settled everything.
"What's your name?" Randall asked softly.
"Owen," he replied.
"Owen," Randall repeated. "You're very brave, you're my hero".
Owen's chest puffed out. "I like to think of myself as a hero."
A faint smile touched Randall's lips,his first in days.
"And that you've done," Randall said gently. "Now please… tell no one you saw me, alright?"
Owen grinned broadly.
The little boy grinned from ear to ear for being called a hero and gave Randall a smile that made him feel human.