Thaddeus and I were just boys when our fathers took us to the beach for the first time. I remember the day vividly—not because of the waves or the salty breeze, but because of Thaddeus's crying.

  He was terrified of the ocean, clinging to his father like a lifeline and sobbing to go back home. I watched him from where I stood, my small hand tightly clasped in my father's, wondering why the ocean scared him so much. To me, it wasn't frightening at all. The rhythmic rise and fall of the tides seemed almost magical, the way Seafallow's ocean shimmered under the sun, mesmerizing in its vastness.

  My father, ever patient, urged me to go and play with him. "He's just lonely," he said. Hesitant but determined, I walked over and stretched out my hand. "Do you want to build a sandcastle?" I asked nervously, unsure if he'd even look at me through his tears.

  Thaddeus sniffled, wiped his nose on his sleeve, and nodded.

  That was the beginning. From that moment, Thaddeus and I were inseparable. We weren't just friends—we were brothers in everything but blood. Together with Finwing, we shared adventures, secrets, and dreams. Our fathers, all fishermen by trade, made sure our families grew close. Over the years, we became more than neighbors; we became an extension of one another's lives.

  When my father died a year later, leaving me fatherless at just six years old, Thaddeus's family stepped in. They didn't treat us like a charity case, nor did they pity us. They treated us like family—like nothing had changed, even though everything had.

  But no amount of love or kindness could prepare me for what was to come.

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  Never in my life had I imagined losing even more of the people I loved, let alone all at once, in the blink of an eye.

  My best friend laid a few feet away from me, lifeless, surrounded by a pool of blood. Everything around me felt like a blur. Pain, confusion, and panic were crashing into me all at once, leaving me frozen and lost in my own head.

  The piercing screams of people snapped me back to reality. My heart dropped as I saw the archer again, releasing another flurry of arrows into the crowd. More bodies hit the ground—too many to count.

  Then came the riders. Men on horseback stormed through the village, laughing like this was some kind of game. They lashed out with whips and chains, dragging people from their homes. Those who fought back were cut down on the spot.

  I ran. My legs moved on instinct, dodging and weaving as I made for the forest. I didn't know where I was going, only that I had to get away.

  Who were these people? Why were they doing this? None of it made sense.

  That's when it hit me—that nagging feeling I'd had all week. Something wasn't right. I didn't know what it was back then, but now I did.

  "Mum."

  The thought of her made my chest tighten. I had to get to her. I had to protect her.

  I ran faster, my breath coming in gasps. My house wasn't far, and I prayed I wasn't already too late. But even in the forest, I could still hear the screams and the sound of chains dragging across the dirt. The village was being torn apart, and I could only hope I'd make it in time.

  ___

  Did you know?

  The people of Samaria are known as Samarians, carrying the legacy of their homeland in their very name.

  The inhabitants of Lume Island are called Lums.

  The citizens of Oakwyn are referred to as Oaks (Southern and Northern Oaks), a name that mirrors their nation’s reputation for strength and enduring ambition.

  The people of Historia bear the title of Historians, fitting for a land steeped in lore and the preservation of knowledge.

  Lastly, the citizens of Gladeshaven are known as Everglades, a name as poetic and ethereal as the lush beauty of their homeland.

  ___