Forge of Fate

The towering gates of Warsaw stood tall and imposing against the horizon, their dark metal frames gleaming faintly in the pale light of dusk. For Kalem and the ragged group of survivors sprinting toward them, those gates represented salvation—a last refuge from the nightmare chasing them.

Kalem's lungs burned with each gasp of air, his legs feeling like they were weighed down with lead. Every step was agony, but he pushed on, driven by the primal need to survive. Around him, the chaos of the retreat continued. Men screamed and stumbled, the sounds of their fear mingling with the guttural growls of the Garon echoing from the tunnel behind them.

In that moment, the massive city gates seemed to promise hope—a sanctuary where the nightmare would end, and safety would be found.

But the promise was a lie.

As Kalem drew closer, he noticed something strange. The archers stationed on the walls weren't aiming at the beast. Their bows were drawn, their arrows notched, but their targets weren't the crimson-scaled creature tearing through the survivors.

They were aimed at the survivors themselves.

It happened in an instant. A volley of arrows darkened the sky, descending on the fleeing men like a deadly rain. The sound of arrows slicing through the air was quickly followed by the sickening thuds of bodies hitting the ground.

Kalem froze mid-step, his breath catching in his throat as he watched the carnage unfold. Soldiers who had fought valiantly against the Garon fell in heaps, their faces frozen in expressions of shock and betrayal. Miners who had barely survived the tunnels collapsed under the weight of their injuries, only to be struck down by the very people they had hoped would save them.

The screams of the dying filled the air, mingling with the beast's guttural snarls. Kalem turned his gaze upward, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. The archers showed no hesitation, loosing volley after volley with mechanical precision.

"Stop!" someone cried from among the survivors, their voice cracking with desperation. "We're your people!"

But there was no mercy.

A knight clad in battered armor turned toward Kalem, his face pale with exhaustion and terror. "They've locked the gates," he said, his voice trembling. "They're… they're killing us to keep the beast out."

Kalem's mind reeled. His legs felt as though they might give out beneath him. It wasn't just the Garon that hunted them; it was their own city, their own people.

Men began to scatter, their desperation taking over. Some tried to find shelter among the rocks and debris near the walls, hoping to avoid the arrows. Others fell to their knees, paralyzed by the overwhelming horror of the situation.

Kalem didn't know what to do. His instincts screamed at him to run, but there was nowhere to go. The Garon was still behind them, its heavy footfalls growing louder, closer.

He turned and saw the beast emerging from the tunnel. Its crimson scales glistened with the blood of its victims, and its azure eyes burned with a cold, predatory light. The Garon let out a guttural roar, shaking the ground beneath their feet, and lunged toward the fleeing survivors.

Panic erupted once more. Those who had frozen in place now scrambled to escape, their movements frantic and uncoordinated. The Garon tore through them with brutal efficiency, its claws and bony tail leaving a trail of carnage in its wake.

Kalem darted to the side, narrowly avoiding a falling body as an arrow struck the man next to him. His breaths came in short, ragged gasps as he tried to make sense of the chaos.

"This can't be real," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the din of screams and roars.

But it was real. Too real.

Ahead, a group of miners tried to scale a pile of rubble near the walls, hoping to find a way inside. Arrows rained down on them, cutting off their escape before they could reach safety. Behind them, the Garon pounced, crushing the remaining survivors under its massive frame.

Kalem was alone now, his path to the gates blocked by a sea of bodies and a hail of arrows. He stumbled backward, his eyes darting around for any chance of escape.

The Garon's eyes locked onto him, and his blood turned to ice. It snarled, its lips curling back to reveal rows of sharp, bloodstained teeth. Kalem could feel its gaze piercing through him, as if it were savoring the anticipation of the kill.

For a moment, time seemed to slow. Kalem's heart pounded in his chest, the sound deafening in his ears. He gripped his spear tightly, knowing it was useless against the beast. There was no fight to be had, no heroic stand to make. This was the end.

The Garon lunged.

Kalem closed his eyes, bracing for the impact.

But it never came.

A sharp cry rang out, followed by the sound of flesh meeting bone. Kalem's eyes snapped open just in time to see a figure step between him and the beast. The man—a soldier, perhaps—thrust his weapon into the Garon's side, drawing its attention away from Kalem.

The beast roared in fury, swiping at the man with its massive claws. The soldier's body crumpled to the ground, lifeless, but his sacrifice bought Kalem the precious seconds he needed to act.

Without thinking, Kalem turned and ran. His legs moved on autopilot, carrying him away from the carnage and into the shadows of the rocky terrain.

The screams and roars faded into the background as Kalem scrambled over rocks and debris, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. He didn't stop until his legs gave out, and he collapsed against a boulder, his chest heaving.

Tears streamed down his face as he sat there, his spear clutched tightly in his hands. The weight of what he had witnessed pressed down on him, suffocating him.

The Garon's monstrous form, the rain of arrows, the betrayal of the city—it was all too much. For the first time in his life, Kalem cried openly, the tears mingling with the dirt and sweat on his face.

He didn't know how long he sat there, his mind a chaotic mess of fear, anger, and despair. But one thing was clear: he was alive, and that fact alone felt like both a blessing and a curse.

Above him, the city walls stood silent and unyielding, their cold metal surface a stark reminder of the betrayal that had nearly cost him his life.