Nature was purely ethereal, as were most simple things.
It released a calm that begged for over-indulgence, or at least beckoned to those who desired shelter from society's complexity. Even one tender in age could answer the call and resonate with the attractive energy.
He let out a sigh, perfectly blending it with the sound of running water against river stone, a predictable, unwavering hum that seemed to vibrate deep within his young soul, or, at the very least, a backdrop that emphasized the wildness of his young imagination.
Here, by the flowing current, the anxieties of his world seemed to melt away, and in their place, serenity bloomed.
The boy had purposefully strayed from the camp, seeking the riverbank mostly to avoid his everyday duties. He discovered a particularly soft patch of fine sand; this was where he sank down onto his back with a contented sigh.
He lay there in profound stillness, allowing the quiet rhythm of the river to wash over him, his day's concerns drifting away with the stream. He took in a warm breath, the scent of bruised grass along with the unique freshness of summer, all of it rolling into one intoxicating lungful of tranquility.
He could remain planted all evening if allowed.
Unfortunately, his responsibilities possessed a rather persistent knack
for sneaking off camp and locating him.
He could discern their rustling in the nearby bushes, a series of clumsy, poor attempts to approach without him noticing. He sighed, a soft expulsion of air. His brief respite was drawing to a close. He might as well savor every fleeting second of the peace that remained.
His mentees had done their best to stay hidden in the grass as they rounded him; he had to give them that. Just as he decided to call them out on their failed attempt, one of the three burst out of the bushes behind him.
The head of blue hair bounced as he kicked up sand, heading for the older boy.
The little Alven boy leapt into the air and landed atop him with their full weight, knocking every ounce of serenity out of him. Sure, he had moved sacks of flour heavier than them, but never had he been walloped in the gut with one.
While he was still reeling from the first attack, his miniature assailant held his head down into the sand, leaving his midsection exposed for the follow-up. The next boy came in, long red hair trailing behind. Once within
range, he performed an elaborate somersault before landing squarely in the same position.
This time, something more acidic than air tried to climb up his throat. He did well to keep all his contents inside.
The little demons in his charge had other plans. The redhead moved to his legs and held them in place, priming their victim for their finale. The only girl in the group came skipping towards him, stopping right before him.
He let out a reflexive, "Thank god."
"So sorry, Eji," she sang, signaling an end to the pleasantries. She then took aim with her arm, pointing an elbow down at her mentor's chest, before leaping into the air and landing squarely on his diaphragm.
They set his limbs free, and he quickly shook them off, demanding space as they giggled at his expense. He watched on as the toddlers fell over themselves in laughter, rounds of celebratory high-fives in lieu of the successful execution of their plan.
As a thirteen-year-old who was just rag-dolled by a trio of four-year-olds, he wanted to be upset about this. However, as their mentor, it was a sign that his lessons had not gone to waste. So, he decided to focus on
the latter.
"Great form, beautiful diversion. Sent out the quicker one first,"
He looked down at the Alven boy, who elbowed the other as the compliment was
given. "Left the company no time to counter the chaos. Who called the shots?"
The Alven and the girl pointed at the redhead in the middle, who raised his hands and elevated himself on his toes, eventually losing balance and falling forward a bit.
He shook his head. "Good job. Souki, you might want to attack before you apologize next time, okay?"
The little girl grinned happily. He stood smiling as they initiated another round of celebration, adding a few exaggerations as they recalled the events that just took place.
His attention was drawn away, across the river. He could hear a subtle disturbance in the grass field. Probably a predator stalking prey, but if he could realize its presence, then the herbivore being targeted undoubtedly could too.
This, however, felt different: breathing too controlled to be that of a wild animal. A presence that knew it was being observed, desperately trying to mask its advance with the ambient nature. His instincts flung themselves to the forefront; it was better to be safe.
"Alright minions b—,"
The words had not left his mouth before a bone rattling explosion went off. All four heads spun to face the camp, huddling together in sudden panic.
He was first to gather his wits, tossing Souki over his shoulder and motioning for the other two to follow. He darted toward where their people had settled for his whole life. His focus was tethered to the destination, caring very little for where his feet landed or how much dirt was being kicked into the faces of his tails.
He threw a glance back towards the riverbank doing so just in time to see a group of giant lizards leaping into the stream. Throw snapping jaws at the water as they sought to close on the children.
As they neared the camp, they could see their people locked in a defense against their armoured attackers. Using weapons that far outclassed anything he had seen so far. The camps only real saving grace being a hulking figure, taller than everyone else in the clearing. His markings glowing a bright red.
He barrelled through bare handed grabbing their attackers and throwing them into the air. Smashing skulls with his fist and even pulling limbs free.
"Uncle Eryan!" He yelled to catch the man's attention.
A serious gaze was thrown in the boys direction, softening upon seeing that all the toddlers were safe, then hardening once more when he saw what was following.
The dark haired man landed before them after one great leap. His hands spoiled with red.
"Leave them with me. Go find your parents."
The boy nodded then rushed off towards his family's tent, sprinting as fast as his short legs could carry. The sounds of ongoing combat; screams, clanging steel, and the roar of fire and incantations, bordered a physical assault.
He kept his head low, searching the faces of those fighting back for his family.
His mother.
His father.
They weren't out here.
He finally slipped through the melee, sliding on his knees through the dust and soot, until he was safe beneath the billowing canvas of a familiar tent. When he scrambled back onto his feet, he was already under the one he called home.
"Ba! Ohm!" he screamed, the terror in his voice swallowed by the noise outside, swiveling his head as he scanned the small, smoke-filled space.
A second, more paralyzing wave of panic set in, but it was quickly cut short by a horrifying discovery. His eyes fixed on a river of wet, glistening red seeping from the doorway of the connected tent. It flowed like a cruel path
across the dirt floor, growing wider with every passing second.
The curtain then swung open. A figure stood silhouetted against the dark opening, its entire form covered in blood. The white robes that the residents wore were now a heavy, sodden, dastardly crimson. The figure sniffled, then slowly raised a hand to wipe something from its eyes.
The boy stumbled forward, his feet rooted to the ground one moment and moving of their own accord the next. The slight noise drew the figure's attention.
Slowly, too slowly, they turned around. His breath hitched in his throat as the face came into the dim light. His eyes dropped to the source of the blood and triggered another panic attack within his panic attack.
Only managing a shrill vocalisation, "Baba."
________________________________________
Eryan leapt over the children, ready to face the lizard riders rushing toward them. In a single, fluid motion, he snatched a rock from the earth and hurled it at the head of the lead handler.
He did not miss. Both the crude stone and the man's skull disintegrated on contact. With its rider instantaneously disabled, the war-lizard veered sharply, crashing into the second mount. The resulting chaos completely consumed the attention of the third.
Though Eryan was primed for a fight, he was keenly aware that he had the children to protect. He quickly bundled the three kids and sprinted into the twilight, ensuring he left no obvious trail.
The sounds of death and struggle faded quickly behind him.
He knew this day would come. It was only a matter of time before the Empire found themselves equipped to venture across their borders.
Now here they were, five years earlier than he had expected. With weaponry that even he could foresee.
He had always urged the chief to prepare for aggression, but two decades of peace had lulled his brother's will into complacency.
He shook the thought, choosing to focus on his current objective. Ensuring that the newest generation of Shahari survived this ordeal.
Even if the camp fell, they had to ensure that these three children grew up in their homeland.
All he had to do was reach the nearest rendezvous point and wait. They would make it out of this.
They had to.
Eryan continued his desperate run well into the evening. He dashed upriver to wash away his scent, and when he was forced to switch to land, he opted for scaling sheer cliffsides.
All this was accompanied by the insistent sounds of sniffling children, who seemed almost delighted to remind him that they wanted to eat.
Initially, he had taken no issue with their repetition, even as they hung from his shoulders and free arm.
After the hundredth time, however, he could feel his patience wearing thin.
Thankfully, he knew there was at most only three hours of journey before he reached the agreed-upon caves. All he had to do was ignore their cries a bit longer, and they would be free to do as they pleased.
Unfortunately, hope in a dark world was constantly tested by reality.
The ground in front of him erupted, tossing him backward. He instinctively clutched the children tight to soften their fall, tumbling until he found his bearings and sprang back to his feet.
He threw scattered glances at the tree lines, trying to reclaim his calm.
Eryan took a deep breath, then held it.
The children in his arms chose this moment to cry again. On instinct, he let out a sharp sigh, but what escaped his lips was a mouthful of viscous, liquid gold.
What was that?
Shahari bled gold, that was common knowledge, but this gold was erupting from his mouth.
Eryan dropped to one knee, still holding the now shrieking children.
With every ounce of energy he could muster, he gathered his Iké and forced it outward in search of the source of the blast.
It was only then he understood what had happened.
He was surrounded by at least five hundred soldiers. A human troop, all somehow positioned on his route to the rendezvous point.
This was a trap.
Someone had betrayed their camp.
But even then, how was he bleeding?
His eyes dropped to his torso, only to find a crater in his stomach. The ground had not exploded; something had hit him, and successfully exited through his front.
This was pain?
Eryan looked down at the three little faces. Their tiny features were wet with tears, as though their minds had already pieced together what was happening.
A figure landed not too far from where he knelt. His pointed ears forming a sickened silhouette.
"Don't bother trying to heal," a familiar voice hissed punctuated by a chuckle.
"These bolt cannons were designed with the sole purpose of ridding the world of you."
Eryan coughed, a wet rattle in his throat. "I can't believe the Astran Empire allows one-eyed generals."
"They do when vengeance is the only thing keeping you alive."
The attacker stepped forward revealing an Alven male, his long black hair flowing in the wind. His chest area alone, covered in a dark leather armour. A metal wire hung off his back and connected to the hilt of his sword.
The kneeling Shahari glared at the new technology.
"Cyrus," Eryan gasped, "last time I met you, you were still binocular."
"Then savor the visage, for it will be your last."
Eryan gently placed the kids down and forced himself upright, his features forced neutral by the circumstance. He moved to take a step forward, then caught sight of a spark in the distance and immediately dropped into a low crouch.
Another bolt, this one meant for his head, flew past him and pulverized a hill in the distance.
Just as quickly, he popped back up, his eyes and markings now glowing a terrifying red.
He lunged at Cyrus, gripping the man's armour and launching him in the direction of the cannon.
The general's frame flew above the terrain, then slammed into the distant cliff-face with a deafening thud.
Without warning, Eryan spun to face the treeline and spat out a stream of churning lava and flame. He spun on his heel to establish a perimeter, watching as some of the surrounding men broke rank and fled the scene.
The only correct choice.
Those who remained decided to run towards him.
"I am Eryan, second son of Khrun!" His voice thundered as he was engulfed in his own flames. "I declare anyone who opposes me DEAD."
He leapt toward those who held their ground, spitting fire, then grabbing those who avoided his lava and burning them with the heat of his bare palm.
When that became too time-consuming, he mustered his Iké once more and released it in a pulsing wave.
This extended outwards, setting only the remaining offenders ablaze. Soon the valley was overwhelmed with the scent of smoke and charred flesh.
Eryan recollected his fire and moved toward the children once more.
"Are you alright?" He asked, searching their frames for any possible injuries.
They nodded their affirmatives, but their faces were still twisted with what looked like a year's worth of tears. Eryan shook his head.
He tried moving his Iké to heal his wounds but nothing happened.
Eryan scoffed,this surely meant that this would be the last night that he ever experienced. The only Iké remaining in him was enough to ensure the children made it somewhere safe.
That was it.
"Look out!" the blue-haired Alven boy yelled, pointing into the distance.
Eryan reacted immediately, turning his back to the children. For this, he caught a blade with the upper section of his chest. He looked down and found it hilt-deep, in the hands of Earth's scummiest Alven.
"You pointy eared bastard."
"I said you to savor it!"
Eryan rose to his feet taking in every moment as he did so. He grabbed the man's hand and smirked ignoring the urge to cough up another lungful of blood.
"Shahari die standing," he began then channelled his remaining Iké to his palms.
He looked Cyrus in his eyes and grabbed his side with the next hand. The Alven shook his head in panic as the realisation settled in.
At this point it mattered little.
All he could do was grit his teeth as Eryan's fire made it to past his clothing. He pulled and tugged to free himself but it seemed this was the price of his victory to come.
Eryan ignored the mans cries for help, instead turning his eyes to the sky. A single burning tear ran from them. An understanding absent from the centuries spent walking this planet and only now he could truly see it.
The older Shahari upon his death began reciting his encantations
This was his end, but he could see and he knew that this generation would be the ones to reclaim what their forefathers were stripped of.
The would reclaim the truth.