5

I groggily opened my eyes, still lost in the depths of sleep when a jarring noise shattered the tranquility of the night. Confusion clouded my mind as I tried to make sense of the situation. But before I could even utter a word, Cain burst into the room, his face etched with worry and urgency.

 

“Agnes, we need to move! We’re under attack,” he exclaimed, his voice laced with a sense of urgency that sent shivers down my spine. My heart raced, and I felt the weight of dread settling in the pit of my stomach.

 

“Who is attacking us?” I managed to ask, my voice laced with a mixture of fear and curiosity. “Is it King Crowell’s men?”

 

Cain’s eyes widened in surprise at my knowledge of our adversaries. His silence confirmed my suspicions, and a surge of anger coursed through me. How dare them, threatening the lives of innocent locals?

 

Before I could utter another word, he swiftly scooped me up into his arms, lifting me effortlessly from the comfort of the bed. As I clung to him, my mind raced, thoughts swirling like a tempest. Fear for our safety and concern for his community intertwined in a chaotic dance within me.

 

As we hurriedly left the room, the scene that unfolded before my eyes was nothing short of a nightmare. King Crowell’s men, with their wicked sneers and ruthless weapons, unleashed chaos upon the village. Flames consumed homes, sending plumes of smoke billowing into the night sky. The sounds of battle, the clash of steel against steel, reverberated through the air, accompanied by the anguished cries of the defenseless.

 

Anger ignited within me, fueling my determination to fight back against this unjust assault. The sight of our neighbors, bravely standing their ground, defending their homes and loved ones, stirred something deep within my soul. We could not allow these tyrants to trample upon our community, to extinguish the light that we had fought so hard to keep alive.

 

“Cain,” I whispered urgently, my voice filled with resolve, “we have to help them. We cannot let them destroy everything we hold dear.”

 

“They are too many, we have to leave if we are going to survive” Cain replied before taking me away using hidden and secret route to evade the attackers

 

 

As we made our escape through the dense woods, our lungs burning from exertion, we sought refuge in an isolated village nearby. We found a secluded spot to rest, the exhaustion weighing heavily upon us. Cain offered me a cup of water, his hand extended with a gentleness that belied the chaos that surrounded us.

 

“Here, drink,” he said, his voice laced with concern.

 

I gratefully accepted the cup, feeling the cool liquid quench my thirst. The relief was palpable, and I couldn’t help but let out a sigh of satisfaction.

 

“Thanks,” I muttered, my voice laced with exhaustion and gratitude. “For saving me back there.”

 

Cain nodded, his gaze meeting mine. “No need to thank me. We’re all in this together, trying to survive.”

 

I couldn’t help but notice the lack of fear in his eyes. It was unusual, considering what I had just revealed to him. I hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to share the truth.

 

“You know, they were after me because I’m a witch,” I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. “I have these powers… and they see me as a threat.”

 

Cain’s eyebrows furrowed, but there was no sign of judgment or fear. Instead, his expression showed a glimmer of curiosity and understanding.

 

“A witch, huh?” he mused, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and acceptance. “That explains a lot.”

 

I couldn’t help but be taken aback by his response. It was unexpected, but there was something in his demeanor that made me feel like I could trust him.

 

“You’re not scared?” I asked, searching his face for any sign of doubt or apprehension.

 

Cain shrugged, a half-smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Nah, witches, human, sorcerers… it’s all the same to me. We all got our secrets and powers. It’s what makes us interesting.”

 

His nonchalant acceptance washed over me, a sense of relief settling in my heart. In a world where fear and prejudice were rampant, Cain’s openness was a refreshing change.

 

“Thanks for not freaking out,” I said, a genuine smile tugging at my lips. “I appreciate it.”

 

Cain chuckled, a warm sound that filled the air between us. “No need to thank me. We’ve all got our baggage, right? Let’s focus on getting through this together.”

 

His words resonated within me, erasing any doubts or fears that had lingered. In this moment, with a stranger by my side, I felt a glimmer of hope. Together, we would navigate this tumultuous journey, bound by a shared understanding and the determination to survive.

 

 

As I sat with Cain, his somber expression revealed a lifetime of untold stories and hidden pain. Intrigued by his mysterious nature, I asked him about his life, hoping to uncover the secrets that lay within his soul.

 

Cain took a deep breath, his gaze drifting into the distance as memories flooded his mind. “I never knew my real parents,” he began, his voice tinged with sadness. “I was left on the doorstep of an old witch when I was just a baby. She took me in and raised me as her own.”

 

His eyes glistened with a mix of gratitude and sorrow as he continued. “She nursed me, loved me, and taught me everything she knew about magic. For years, we lived in harmony, hidden away from the prying eyes of the world.”

 

But then, his expression turned grim, his voice laced with bitterness. “It all changed when one of the king’s men discovered her secret. They accused her of practicing forbidden magic and sentenced her to death.” Cain clenched his fists, his anger palpable. “They took away the only mother I ever knew, leaving me alone and shattered.”

 

Moved by his tragic tale, I reached out to place a comforting hand on his. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Cain. It must have been incredibly difficult for you.”

 

Cain let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t be fooled,” he said. “From the moment I found you lying on the riverbank, wounded and near death, I knew who you were. A witch, just like my late mother.”

 

Surprised, I looked at him inquisitively. “You knew? How?”

 

Cain smirked, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “A wounded lady without gold or silver, lying almost lifeless with blade cuts? Come on, I’m not stupid. Your aura spoke volumes, and your wounds… they were unlike anything inflicted by ordinary means. I could see the remnants of a magical battle.”

 

His perceptive nature left me momentarily speechless. After a moment, I gathered my thoughts and asked, “But why, Cain? Why did you choose to help me, knowing the risks it would bring upon yourself?”

 

Cain’s expression softened, and his voice grew tender. “I’m not doing it for myself,” he replied. “I’m doing it for my late mother. She nursed me, cared for me, and protected me, just as she protected the secrets of our magic. She showed me the true meaning of love and sacrifice.”

 

He paused, his eyes filled with a mixture of determination and grief. “I couldn’t let another witch suffer the same fate as my mother. It was my duty, my way of honoring her memory. No matter the danger, I couldn’t turn away from someone who needed help, especially if that someone carried the same magic that ran through my veins.”

 

His words touched my heart, and I felt a profound connection with this compassionate yet haunted soul. In that moment, I understood that our paths had crossed for a reason, bound by the intertwined threads of fate and shared pain.