The rain came down in sharp, cold drops, striking the cobblestones with a relentless rhythm. Each splash sent ripples through shallow puddles, the chill biting into the air. The gray skies above mirrored the desolate streets below, where life clung to survival in the shadow of towering stone walls.
Footsteps echoed through the narrow alleys of Lauren, a city built on ambition and blood. A boy, no older than 12, sprinted through the maze of wet stone, his breath ragged, his heart a frantic drum in his chest. He clutched a half-loaf of bread, its crust already damp from the downpour.
"Hey! Stop, you little rat!"
Two guardian knights pursued him, their silver armor clanging with each step, reflections of torchlight flickering across their polished surfaces. They were sworn to uphold the law, to crush disorder beneath their iron heels, and right now, Ryon was their target.
Ryon's legs burned, each stride a desperate gamble against the strength he could feel draining from his bruised and battered body. Torn rags clung to his thin frame, exposing scars from countless beatings, and fresh wounds cracked open as his muscles strained. But he didn't slow down. He couldn't.
"Damn it, kid! When we catch you, you're dead!" one of the guards snarled, their voice cutting through the rain like a blade.
Ryon's mind raced. He needed a way out – a gap, a corner, a shadow deep enough to swallow him whole. He veered sharply into a side street, his bare, shackled feet splashing through the filth that pooled in the cracks between stones. He darted into an alley near the city's outer wall, collapsing behind a broken barrel beside a crumbling, long-forgotten cart.
He clamped a dirty hand over his mouth, stifling his gasps, willing his heartbeat to quiet as the clanking footsteps slowed. The guards cursed, their search becoming frantic, boots splashing as they scanned the gloom.
"Where did that damn brat go?!"
Ryon smirked, pressing his back into the cold, rough stone. His stolen meal, now a soggy lump in his hands, still felt like victory. He took a hungry bite, the stale bread sticking to his parched throat.
"Hah... Those idiots, They'll never catch me," he whispered, tasting defiance more than the bitter crust.
As the echoes of the soldiers faded into the rain, Ryon allowed himself a breath, glancing down at the iron shackles still clamped around his ankles – rusted, battered, but still a reminder of his hardships. He had escaped once as a slave, and he'd keep escaping as long as his body endured.
Slipping into a pile of rags he'd found beside the cart, he draped a moldy robe over his shoulders, masking his identity as best he could. Moving quickly, he navigated the alleys until he reached the city's edge.
He needed shelter, and knew there were no options inside the city.
He crawled through a small, half-collapsed hole he had spent weeks digging into the base of the inner wall.
Beyond the wall, the rain-soaked air grew thicker, the scent of wet leaves and fresh earth mingling as he stumbled into the nearby forest. His feet throbbed with each step, the chains clinking softly as he staggered deeper into the shadows of the trees.
As lightning cracked across the sky, he spotted a small, leaning cabin nestled between the ancient oaks, its wooden planks warped by years of neglect.
"Heh... Maybe today isn't so cursed after all," he muttered, forcing a grin despite the ache in his bones.
Pushing the creaking door open, he stepped inside. The air was stale, dust swirling in the dim light filtering through shattered windows. He found a brittle old book on a decaying shelf and collapsed onto the creaky bed, the musty blanket crumbling slightly under his weight.
"This is a great bo-"
Sleep took him before he could finish the thought, his mind slipping into a familiar darkness where memories of screaming, flames, and iron chains awaited. His fingers twitched, clutching at phantom wounds as the nightmares came.
"Hey, kid! Wake up, kid!"
Ryon jolted awake, eyes wide, his heart racing anew as he met the gaze of a towering, broad-shouldered man. Gray hair framed a weathered face, eyes like storm clouds, a massive, nicked blade resting easily on his shoulder.
"Wha- what?! I-I'm sorry! I didn't know anyone lived here!" Ryon stammered, fear choking his words.
The giant of a man burst into a deep, rumbling laugh, his eyes glinting with something between amusement and curiosity.
"Kuhaha! If you're gonna lie, kid, you better work on that delivery," he said, sheathing his blade. "Tell you what, you can stay here – if you earn your keep."
Ryon's mind raced. Maybe running into this cabin was the worst mistake he could have made.