Chapter 21: Percy
The mother and her children, their faces filled with both gratitude and sorrow, emerged from their hiding place. Their eyes were filled with a mix of relief and Grief—their father was gone, but they had been spared.
Ariella and Elara exchanged glances, the weight of what they'd just witnessed still fresh on their minds. They had saved these people, but at what cost? The bloodshed, the death—it would never be easy to forget.
The girls approached the family, offering their condolences, their hearts heavy. "We're sorry for arriving too late. We couldn't save him," Elara said softly, the guilt evident in her voice.
The villagers, still shaken but grateful, began to trickle out of their homes, making their way to the village square. The mood had shifted from one of fear to relief, to celebration. The girls had defeated the Shrouded One—at least for now.
The villagers lifted the girls on their shoulders, chanting their names. They had been heroes today, and for that, they would be celebrated.
Uncle Jonathan, ever the caring leader, organized a celebratory feast in the village square. The villagers offered their thanks, rejoicing in their survival, thankful that the Shrouded One had been driven back.
That night, under the flickering firelight, the villagers danced and sang, their voices carrying the weight of their newfound hope.
But as the celebration continued into the night, the girls knew this peace was only temporary. They had won a battle, but the war was far from over.
The next day, the villagers buried their dead, performing rites to honor those lost. As life slowly returned to normal, the threat of the Shrouded One still loomed over them.
For Elara and Ariella, the fight was far from over. The Shrouded One had waited for over a hundred years to return—surely, he could wait a few more days to plan his next move. And so, the girls trained every day, growing stronger, honing their abilities, preparing for the inevitable return of their enemy.
Deep in the mountains in a what looked like a tent, on the bed lay a man. His entire face covered hiding the ugly looking scars he had. His red eyes now combined with the scars he looked scarier than before.
Beside him, the two headed best was lying right next to his bedside and on the right side of his bed, a stool could be seen . On top, what looked like a dish with a medicinal decoction, smoke rising from it showing how hot it was.
On the far left, a man was seated without a care in the world. He seemed so unbothered like whatever happened to the man on the bed did not concern him at all and he didn't care whether he lived or died.
" I can't believe you underestimated those girls and now here you are. Lying on bed with no power to save yourself. Speaking of which, how did you get to this state?" the man asked
The shrouded one turned to stare at him, struggling with himself whether to respond to his sarcastic remark or let it slide. At the end he decided " I know I made a mistake underestimating the enemy. You don't have to sit here and rub salt on my wound Percy. "