Evander

  Despair was an awful thing.

  It clung to the back of your throat like thick molasses. It made your chest heavy, your breath light. It poisoned your mind until rational thought was nothing more than a jittering mess in the corner, begging to be put down.

  Despair was not the voice to tell you to fight or flee. Despair was the voice that whispered in your ear telling you there is no hope left.

  And as he limped through the charred remains of the town he once called his home, the smell of smoke and burning flesh harassing his senses, blackened bodies that were put to the torch littering the streets he walked down daily; Evander Wilde, with each step he took, found himself walking deeper and deeper into the very pits of despair.

  —

  Tragedy struck upon the night of revelry.

  It was the Summer Solstice, and like every year since his villages founding, a festival was had to honour the Sun God and to pray for a bountiful harvest before winter. The whole town came out, large tables filled the square, with wooden stalls providing food and grog to all. Music and laughter filled the evening sky as people danced and ate and sang their hearts out.

  Evander loved the Solstice Festival, the sight of seeing people happy always filled him with joy.

  “Enough with the books, lad,” his father told him. The General Store was contributing by making sure there was enough inventory for the Tavern to keep the festivities lasting all night. Being the son of the General Store owner, he was helping out. “Go out there and enjoy yer youth like you ought to.”

  A powerful man, broad of shoulders and tall of height. He had the physique of a lumberjack - the mans trade in his younger years - before a shoulder injury made him put the axe down for good.

  Evander waved his father off.

  “I’ve only a few more to count, Pa,” he said, doing a quick check of the Cherry Wine sitting on the tavern shelves, all present and accounted for.

  “A gentleman dinnit keep his girls waitin’ lad.”

  Evander rolled his eyes.

  “You’ve been singing the same tune for years, Pa. Drop it.”

  “I’m just sayin’ lad, you’ve got two beauties around ya daily. You really ought to marry one of ‘em before some other lad does.”

  “Pa, Lyra is like a little sister to me, there’s no way. And she would sooner choke me out than kiss me.”

  “Some men are into that lad.”

  There was a pause.

  “Pa, gross.”

  “Wha-?!”

  “Please keep your bedroom activities with Ma to yourself.”

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  “Yer such a prude, lad.”

  He shook his head as he closed his book.

  “I’m done. Let’s get out of here so I can drown the horrid images you put in my head with some ale.”

  “That’s the spirit! Bring home a pretty girl too. Violet, Robbie's daughter from the pastures, is pretty eh-”

  He shoved past his dad and walked out of the storage shed.

  “I’m not listening anymore~”

  “Hey! Wait up, lad.”

  Evander stopped and looked over his shoulder, letting his father catch up to him. Though a little annoying, nights like tonight made him appreciate the man’s funny antics.

  “Excited for yer show tonight?”

  Truthfully he was a little nervous. It would be his first time closing the Solstice Festival by himself before. It was typically always his mother but her voice had slowly been fading due to the harsher winters of late so in recent years they’ve been closing it together. This year, she had insisted he do it by himself.

  “Relax my little Robin,” she told him as he sat beside her a few nights ago. “Your voice is much prettier than mine.”

  “Mother I-”

  “Sing me to sleep will you, Evander?”

  He gave a soft smile, indulging her.

  He decided that a lullaby would be how he would open. Something quiet and soft to draw his crowds attention. Then he’d do the speech that the Mayor would usually do (the stout man thinking his mother was right and that Evander should have the entire stage solo this year) before sing some Solstice classics to liven everyone up again.

  He had a plan. He had practiced. All that was left was to make it happen.

  “Yeah, Pa,” he said. “I’m pretty excited.”

  He felt a strong arm clasp his shoulder.

  “I’m proud of ye son. I’m sure you’ll do yer mother proud.”

  He gave a nod.

  “Now hows about that drink, aye?”

  Evander followed behind.

  “When are ya meeting up with the girls?”

  “Now actually,” he said. “They both also had stuff to do beforehand but they said we’d grab a bite to eat before I hit the stage.”

  “Ah, I see. Well a quick drink with yer old man and I’ll leave ya to your courting.”

  “Pa,” Evander said, exasperated. “I said I’m not-”

  “By the Gods, what’s that?”

  His father had stopped in his tracks just outside of the town square where the revelry was happening. His neck tilted upwards as his eyes tracked a red streak hurtling across the starry evening sky. Evander’s eyes followed, also unsure as to what it was. Whatever it was though, it was moving fast.

  “A firework?”

  But neither of them got the chance to figure out what it was before it impacted. The red streak arched and fell from the heavens, landing in the centre of the town square, before expanding. Evander felt a rush of air, the sound of a low bass before the world he knew was engulfed in flames and burned asunder.

  It was a fireball.

  The blast was so strong it knocked him into the nearest house, flames kissing his face as he felt the agonizing sting of intense burns. He crashed hard into the ground of the living room of the house he was blown into. His ears rung, his entire body hurt, the air in his lungs forced out of him due to the impact leaving him dazed and disorientated. It took a few panicked breaths before he was back on his feet.

  The sound of music had disappeared. In its stead were the sounds of crackling wood and the screams of his townsfolk.

  But a sound did remain.

  Laughter.

  Evander scrambled to the door and looked on horrified at the scene in front of him.

  Vicious flames consumed the town he knew and wicked men in red and black, adorned with plate and armed with steel were cutting down the people he had known since birth like they were cattle. The men were spared no quarter and the women were being grabbed and pinned, fabric torn away as they cried for mercy.

  He felt sick.

  Why? Why was this happening? What was going on? Who were these people and more importantly where was his dad?

  “Pa!-”

  Something hit the back of his head. Hard. And Evanders world fell to black.

  —

  By the time he had come to, the flames were no larger than a campfire and all that was left of his town was a blackened husk and charred bodies. The door frame he was standing underneath had collapsed on his head, knocking him unconscious. Evander had to dig himself out from beneath it when he awoke.

  He should have stayed buried.

  The world he awoke to was not the one he knew. There was no laughter. No music. Not even wicked men in red and black. Just…silence. His face hurt but that seemed like a trifle thing compared to the rest of his pain.

  It was probably a foolish thing to do. Reckless considering what had just transpired. But at this point he didn’t care.

  “Hello!” Evander shouted at the top of his lungs. “Is anyone there?”

  He fell to his knees, tears flowing freely from his face.

  If he was the only survivor, he’d be better off dead anyway.

  Because alive, all he had left was despair.