In a moment, before the young Loren's eyes, Mr. Haroun fell like a lifeless corpse without a head.
In the moments of his fall, he saw Mr. Haroun's head swinging on the ground. Amid screams of terror, Loren remained frozen in his place.
In the depths of his thoughts, his legs could not move; in his mind, he did not know what to do.
All this time, Loren's body had been like a great wall that could only fall from within. But when he saw Mr. Haroun's corpse, he was no longer able to control himself, and that great wall collapsed as if it had never existed.
Loren remained seated, motionless, in front of the corpse. He could not speak; his throat tightened as if the air had turned to ashes, and the words remained stuck in his mind, unable to escape the blockage of his throat.
Amid all this, and without realizing it, tears fell from his eyes like a heavy rain from a clear sky.
Accompanying his crying was an old memory, from five years ago.
Loren had lived in the city of Carthor. In his memory, Loren had always wanted to leave that dark city.
Every day he dreamed of leaving it,
and pursuing dreams that did not exist there.
He had focused on a single goal,
which was to leave it even if it meant leaving his parents. For his father had been adamant about him not leaving Carthor.
But his goal seemed impossible.
Who could cross the mountains of Carthor,
which surrounded the city like an impenetrable fortress,
preventing enemies from entering,
and preventing the residents from leaving?
In Loren's eyes, they were not mountains but an iron cage that restrained him,
and deprived him of his dreams for which he had fought.
But the deep pursuit of leaving had returned good results, for he discovered a way to leave the city:
he had to cross the sea. And with his happiness at finding an opportunity to achieve his dream, Loren found an obstacle harder than those mountains—his parents,
who he realized would not allow him to leave.
Until Mr. Haroun came and was able to convince Loren's parents, and if not for Mr. Haroun's persuasion, Loren would not have left Carthor. In his eyes, Mr. Haroun was not a kind old man or a strict teacher,
but a knight who deserved his title, a man who walked by his principles and feared nothing—that was what Loren aspired to.
But soon those memories disappeared like a mirage, leaving Loren following along, unable to take a single step.
Loren said in a thin voice: "I am tired, I just want to rest."
What he saw was a headless corpse and a ground without sidewalks. His eyes had withered from lack of sleep.
He continued: "Two days—I haven't slept for two days, I haven't rested at all these two days, and when I decide to rest, I am rewarded like this."
Loren did not need to say all this; his appearance explained everything.
In his internal collapse and ongoing exhaustion,
Loren sensed the bodies of people around him.
Even without seeing them, he could imagine their disgust and fear of Mr. Haroun's corpse.
Then he heard their steps moving away from him. Without seeing, he felt how repelled they were by him and by the smell of blood.
He realized that they were not questioning why the incident occurred; they were merely disgusted by the sight.
Quickly, Loren tried to stand, and the scene appeared strange. He wondered inwardly, "Someone was killed before them, so how is it that not a single knight comes to rectify the situation?"
But his body failed; every time he got close to standing, he fell, tried again, and fell.
With each attempt, Loren looked inward at the people like rigid statues, staring without moving.
Loren said in a sharp voice: "What are you doing? Did you like the sight so much that you remain frozen like this?"
But there was no response, as if they did not hear him.
Loren clenched his fists and tried to stand firmly, to see if those before him were people or just hallucinations.
And when he finally stood and felt his body steady, he saw a sight that made him say to himself: "I wish I hadn't stood."
What he had feared moments ago was not an illusion. The sky was a blood-red hue, matching the color of corrupted blood.
The houses of the beautiful city of Valemir were dark and filthy, as if abandoned for ages.
He saw no one around him—only a deserted city.
All he sensed were whispers.
The whispers began to chase him, echoing,
becoming screams whose echoes resounded throughout the dark city,
sounding like the cawing of an angry crow.
Loren ran toward a paved alley leading to wooden houses in faded colors.
As he approached, he felt his body collapse to the ground, and sweat began pouring from him.
Shadows surrounded him from every side, echoing the same whispers.
Loren tried to push himself and began to breathe rapidly to regain control.
He held his face and began pressing it hard, repeating what he saw, muttering over and over the descriptions he had witnessed with intense anger, extreme anger: "People without eyes, bodies without heads, women without hands, vessels without souls."
And with each repetition, he heard whispers, and loud voices pierced his eardrums.
Then he struck the ground with his hand and said with a voice broken from suppressed heat and pain: "Why don't you leave me alone for a little while? Didn't you find anyone else to torment?"
He continued: "I have lost all my strength; I can't bear this anymore."
In vain.
The whispers increased, and the voices began weaving words into Loren's mind,
taking control of his mind and making him repeat them unconsciously.
He muttered in a low voice: "A body without a soul overpowers bodies without faces. You who observe everything, make me a knight without a soul."
Suddenly, a thunderous sound erupted in the place. Shadows disappeared, and the houses around him fell.
Beneath his feet, the ground trembled.
Loren did not want to act.
His exhaustion surpassed everything.
He closed his eyes and sank into his thoughts,
finding himself running in deep darkness with no exit.
All his memories circled around him,
and his thoughts were lost among them.
He only wanted to comprehend what he had seen,
every event that happened before him, every shock he experienced,
made him want to scream.
Until a scream came—not from him, but from someone else. That scream was enough to wake him from his dream, which had not lasted ten minutes.
Loren looked at the person who woke him,
to find a strange man shouting at him in a deep voice: "What are you doing now? Is this time for sleep? Run quickly!"
After shouting at him, the man left Loren and began fleeing swiftly.
Loren wiped his head, then looked to his right to find the man had disappeared.
He tried to push himself, held the wall to stand, as his body had stiffened,
and he felt old numbness. Exhausted, he wished he had not woken up, but nothing could help him continue his sleep.
Loren stood, then quietly brushed the dust off his feet. After a single step, he began twisting from the ringing in his ears; that ringing made it impossible for him to walk normally.
The path was dark as if night had fallen, and when he arrived, Loren understood why he had been woken.
The sidewalks were shattered, and blood was scattered.
The smell of rot filled every inch of the city. Crowds rushed toward the majestic gate of Valemir to save their lives.
Loren said in a faint voice: "Is this the reason I was woken? It seems I have found the source of the sound that shook the ground."
Everyone tried to survive, but unlike them, while they hurried forward, Loren walked backward toward his home.
Loren acted with cold irrationality, ignoring the scattered blood and screaming bodies.
Everyone around him was terrified of a sight they could not see.
He looked at the luxurious houses of the nobles and how their lives were lavish, and when he slightly raised his head, he saw them attempting to commit suicide out of sheer terror.
Loren continued on his way, feeling no grief for what happened before him, as he had set a single goal: reaching his home.
He only walked in silence, his body hoping to arrive.
His heartbeat accelerated. His home was ahead, his goal close; finally, he would be able to sleep.
All the thoughts in his mind clouded when his shoulder collided with a woman with a pale face. Upon impact, her face exploded, and Loren fell with her.
Then Loren said, "Damn it, not now."
But when he tried to stand, he could not—not because he was tired, but because he no longer had feet to walk with.
At that moment, Loren tried to look at the thing that had terrified people so much. When he looked above, he found eyes surrounding the city everywhere, seeing only that foolish young man.
For a moment, Loren smiled and then said with his voice fading: "Mr. Haroun said principles are what make you a knight, not the sword. I apologize for what I'm about to say, but if it weren't for the sword, our lives would be different. Look at how powerless we were against those eyes, and see how you could not avoid the sword that cut your head."
Loren began to close his eyes, and before his voice faded, he said: "Will I finally be able to sleep?"
End of Chapter