The Lost Vanguard

The walk back to the house was silent, the only sound being the crunch of snow underfoot. Kaldar led the way, his massive two-handed sword strapped across his back, its hilt jutting out above his shoulders. The weapon seemed almost like an extension of him, its weight a testament to the strength required to wield it. His steps were steady, purposeful, as though he carried not just the blade, but the weight of the world.

I followed a few paces behind, my thoughts swirling in a fog of confusion and unease, The cold gnawed at my skin, but I barely felt it. My chest ached where the wolf had raked its claws, the bandages beneath my shirt pulling with every movement. Each step felt heavier than the last, not because of the physical strain, but because of the growing emptiness inside me.

When we reached the house, Kaldar pushed the door open with a grunt and stepped aside to let me enter. The wooden structure was sturdy but unadorned, built for function rather than comfort. Inside, the air was slightly warmer, though it carried the faint scent of smoke and damp wood.

"This is your home," Kaldar said, his voice low and gruffy. He gestured toward the interior. "Your mother's out. She'll be back later."

I stepped inside hesitantly, my eyes scanning the room. The hearth in the corner cast flickering light across the rough wooden furniture. A small table, its surface scarred from years of use, sat in the center, surrounded by mismatched chairs. Tools and hunting gear were propped against the walls, their edges worn and dulled from frequent use.

It felt familiar and alien at the same time. The details tugged at something deep in my mind, but the connection wouldn't form. It was like trying to grasp water with bare hands, the harder I tried, the further it slipped away.

Kaldar unstrapped his sword and leaned it against the wall with a heavy thud. He turned to face me, his weathered face unreadable.

"Rest," he said simply. "You're still recovering."

"I'm fine," I replied automatically, though my body disagreed. The ache in my chest was a constant reminder of my weakness.

Kaldar studied me for a moment, his gaze steady but distant. Then, without another word, he turned toward the door.

"I'm going to your mother," he said. "She'll want to know you're awake."

I nodded faintly, not trusting myself to speak. He paused briefly, as if waiting for something more, but I remained silent. With a final grunt, he opened the door and stepped out, leaving me alone.

The silence in the house was deafening. I stood in the middle of the room, my eyes drifting over the surroundings. Everything felt too still, too empty. The scratches on the table, the uneven boards beneath my feet, they all seemed like... fragments of a life I couldn't remember. A life that didn't feel like mine.

I couldn't stay here. The weight of the stillness pressed against my chest, making it hard to breathe. I needed to move, to do something, anything to escape the void threatening to consume me.

Stepping outside, I inhaled deeply, letting the crisp air fill my lungs. The village stretched out before me, alive with quiet activity. Men hauled wood from the nearby forest, their faces hardened by years of labor. Women tended to pots of stew, their laughter mixing with the sharp crackle of flames. Children darted between the huts, their voices carrying on the cold wind.

I wandered aimlessly, my footsteps crunching softly in the snow. The villagers cast curious glances my way, their expressions a mix of pity and suspicion. Whispers followed me like shadows, but I couldn't make out the words. It didn't matter. I had no connection to these people, no anchor to hold me in place.

As I neared the edge of the village, the sound of laughter drew my attention. A small group of children had gathered on a snow-covered clearing, their voices sharp and animated. I stopped a few paces away, watching silently.

The group consisted of six or seven children, most of them around my height. Two boys stood in the center, sparring with wooden swords while the others cheered and jeered from the sidelines. Their strikes were clumsy but spirited, each one landing with a dull thud that echoed through the clearing.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" one of the onlookers shouted, a grin splitting his face.

The sparring match ended with a particularly hard blow, one of the boys stumbling back into the snow. The onlookers erupted in laughter, their voices loud and unrestrained.

"Look who decided to show up," a voice called out suddenly, cutting through the noise.

The laughter died down as the group turned to face me. One of the boys stepped forward, his posture confident, his smirk sharp. He was my height, his frame lean but strong. His dark eyes locked onto mine, filled with a mixture of amusement and disdain.

"Alaric," he said, drawing out the name like a taunt. "Didn't think we'd see you out here. Thought you'd still be hiding after... well, you know."

I didn't respond. His words didn't sting, they barely registered. I stood there, my face blank, my gaze steady.

"What? Nothing to say? he continued, his smirk widening. "Guess the big hunter isn't so brave after all."

Another boy chimed in, his tone mocking. "Maybe he's just tired from all that running. Must've been hard, pretending to be brave and letting hunter do all the work."

The others laughed, the sound grating against my ears. Their words were meant to provoke, to humiliate. But I felt nothing. Their jabs slid off me like water off stone.

"Is that what you think happened?" I asked finally, my voice calm, almost detached.

The leader Eric, as the others called him snorted. "What else? Everyone knows you couldn't take down that wolf. If the hunter hadn't shown up, you'd be dead."

I tilted my head slightly, studying him. His confidence was a facade, a brittle shield he used to command the others. I could see it in the way his eyes flicked to the group for approval, in the way his smirk faltered when I didn't react the way he expected.

"And what would you have done?" I asked. My tone was even, my gaze steady. "Would you have stood your ground? Or run?"

Eric's smirk disappeared, replaced by a flicker of anger. The laughter around us faded, the others watching intently.

"You think you're better than me?" he snapped, stepping closer. "You've always thought that. But look at you. Weak. Pathetic."

"Eric, stop it," a girl's voice cut through the tension. She stepped between us, her expression firm. Her brown braid swung slightly as she moved, strands catching the faint light, her eyes locking onto Eric's.

"What? he can handle a few words," Eric muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

"Leave him alone," she said, her tone calm but resolute. "He's been through enough."

Eric glared at her for a moment before stepping back, his fists clenched at his sides. "This isn't over," he muttered, his gaze flicking to me one last time. "You"ll see."

As the group dispersed, the girl lingered. She turned to me, her expression softening slightly. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Fine," I replied, though the word felt hollow.

She studied me for a moment before nodding and walking away, leaving me alone in the clearing. The cold wind whispered through the trees, carrying the faint echoes of laughter and jeers. I stood there, unmoving, the emptiness inside me growing darker and heavier.

The encounter left a bitter taste in my mouth, but I needed to shake it off. I wandered further through the village, my steps aimless as my eyes took in the surroundings. The simple huts, the occasional burst of laughter from children, and the rhythmic sounds of work formed a stark backdrop to my disjointed thoughts.

As I turned a corner, I realized the path I followed was less traveled, the snow untouched by frequent footsteps. The sounds of the village faded behind me, replaced by an eerie stillness. My eyes scanned the area, a vague unease creeping into my mind.

Then, I heard it. A voice, familiar and sharp, cutting through the quiet. "What are you doing here?"

I turned, my gaze locking onto Eric. He stood a few paces behind me, his arms crossed, his expression twisted with something between amusement and suspicion. He had been following me, though I couldn't tell for how long. The weight of his stare felt like a change, a silent dare to respond.

Nearby, a narrow secluded alley caught my eye. The snow there lay undisturbed, its pristine surface reflecting the dim light filtering through the overcast sky. Tall, weathered wooden walls lined the path, their shadows stretching long and ominous. The air felt colder here. biting my skin with an edges sharper than before, and the muffled sounds of the village seemed a worlds away. The space exuded an eerie stillness, as if it were cut off from the life bustling elsewhere, waiting for something to unfold. Something primal stirred within me, a pull I couldn't explain. It wasn't fear, but a strange, unyielding urge to confront him, make him feel pain. Without a word I turned and stepped into the alley, its shadows swallowing me as I waited to see if he'd follow. The cold wind whispered through the trees, carrying the faint echoes of laughter and jeers. I stood there, unmoving, the emptiness inside me growing darker and heavier.