Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 26760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
The sound echoed, reverberating long after the noise itself had faded. The precision was chilling—a single bullet, right between his eyes. My ears rang, and I felt a numbing sensation, as if the universe had momentarily lost its grasp on time. The man's body slumped lifelessly to the ground with a dull thud, blood that almost looked black in the moonlit dark pooling around him.
I remained cemented in place, panting heavily, torn between relief and a new, deeper-rooted fear. My focus was interrupted when my savior crouched in front of me and with a firm yet gentle hand tilted my chin, forcing my attention to him. Right away, I knew this was not a mere boy or one of the men Grandma complained of when she went on supply runs. This was a man crafted from the dark tales she whispered on cold nights, a figure from myths.
The tactical gear he wore hugged a physique that spoke of strength and discipline. His eyes were unlike anything I’d ever seen, a red flecked with gold. They carried the weight of things I couldn't even begin to understand.
Wisdom. Pain. Power.
But it was the emblem embroidered on his clothing—the majestic, almost lifelike dragon —that made my heart skip a beat. A new kind of fear had ice skating down my spine. This man was likely the most dangerous person in these woods. More so than his subordinates who stood by, watching over us and keeping guard.
They too were armed to the max and donning tactical gear of a different variety. I'd heard of this family, but in the way one hears of distant storms: dangerous, powerful, and thankfully out of reach.
Until now.
“Are you all right?”
His voice was surprisingly melodic—deep and resonant with a slight accent but soft too, like the dangerous lull of a siren’s song. There was an authority in it, one that demanded respect not by volume but depth. That perplexed me. He couldn’t have been that old. In his twenties, I guessed. He seemed ageless in a way. As if time had chosen to be kinder to him, or perhaps he had mastered it.
For as dangerous as he was, his attention didn’t seem predatory. There was curiosity there, maybe even concern. As he gently turned my head to the side, there was also something else. Something I couldn't put a finger on. One of the men with him approached, his face covered by a reinforced helmet with a sleek design.
“That was the last of the Trefkar.”
“Have the body skinned and strung up in the plaza alongside the others.”
My heart was still racing, hammering against my ribs in the aftermath of the nightmare I'd just experienced. His words did little to help calm it. The way he issued such an order with indifference and sheer lack of emotion…
It was one thing to hear whispered stories of brutality; it was an entirely different experience to witness it firsthand. The helmeted man turned swiftly, a soft glow emanating from the side of his helmet. It was a bizarre and otherworldly sight for me, like watching someone speak to a spirit or summon magic from thin air. The realization dawned that this was some manner of advanced technology, leagues beyond anything I'd ever encountered. My isolated world had kept me blissfully ignorant.
But even with such a revelation, the lifeless man lying a few feet away, and the predatory gleam that had been in his eyes, the violent grip of his hands—no amount of horror at the issued command could coax an ounce of sympathy from me for him.
He would've shown me no mercy.
The man that ended his life forced me to meet his gaze once more. His piercing eyes locked onto mine, leaving me trapped, ensuring that I could focus on nothing else but him as his order was followed.
“Why are you alone in these woods?” His tone was soft, but there was an underlying coldness that made me feel obligated to respond.
"I'm looking for someone," I managed to reply, trying to steady my voice.
He studied me for a moment, his grip never wavering. “It’s dangerous out here, especially for someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” I repeated, confused.
His other hand rose, pulling free a set of chains that rested beneath his form-fitting shirt. One was a dog tag, embossed with the emblem of the dragon—the insignia of the family he served. They were said to have the same mythical blood in their veins. The other was a delicate pendant, formed in the likeness of the very same beast.
He removed it and with a fluid motion slipped the pendant over my head, the cold metal coming to rest against my skin, sealing some unspoken pact between us with a soft sting.
“This was my mother’s. It's said to protect the wearer from harm.”
"Why are you giving it to me?" I whispered.