Chapter 8: Seventeen

Three years of cold weather, rough food, and ceaseless training had changed Orian. It hardened the soft lines of his face, replacing the troubled uncertainty of a fourteen-year-old with the lean, etched resolve of a young man on the cusp of seventeen. He was strong now, his muscles sharp beneath the worn leather of his hunting vest, and his skill with a sword was no longer based on instinct, but on painful, repetitive discipline. Yet, despite the years of work, the shadow of his mother’s death remained, turning his focus on strength into a relentless drive.

He moved silently through the Southern Basin woods, his footsteps practiced and light. The sun, filtered by the thick forest canopy, cast shifting emerald patches onto the wet earth. Tez, now twenty, was nearby. The two hunted together daily, not just for food, but for the practice of fighting the corrupted beasts that still occasionally slipped past Sowden’s precarious perimeter.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Ori heard the rustling of leaves to his right. He reacted instantly, spinning with the learned precision Rost had drilled into him. It wasn't fast enough.

A corrupted fox-monster, larger than any fox should be, its lean body fueled by the black onyx stone at its chest, leaped from the bushes towards him. The speed of the attack was blinding. Ori was thrown to the ground before he could even draw the living sword concealed at his belt.

The ferocious growl of the carnivore, ready to feast on his exposed throat, echoed in his head.

“Ori!” he heard Tez scream as his eyes began to fade into darkness. His head hit a thick root when he was tackled. The last thing he saw before the blackness took over was a sword being thrust into the neck of the beast.

The scene flickered into a daydream. He saw his mother, Klohee, overlooking their village, the sun bright and warm. He was at peace, taking in a deep breath and sitting beside his mother. The tranquility changed to despair as heavy clouds rolled in and darkened the sky and the village was engulfed in raging flames. He looked back at Klohee who was now covered in blood.

“Mom?” Ori whispered, barely able to speak.

The scene faded. The gloomy forest canopy transitioned into view.

Ori’s head throbbed with a dull, heavy pain. He looked up to see his older brother, Tez, ripping the onyx stone out of the bloody creature’s chest. The gore was everywhere: Tez’s clothes and hands, Ori’s body, even the leaves on the bushes were splattered with thick blackened blood. The only thing Ori could smell was the thick, metallic scent of blood.

“Are you alright?” Tez asked, his face grim but calm as he began cleaning the blood from his sword. "You hit your head pretty badly, but I don’t think it’s cut.”

“Ah, it hurts. I’m fine though, thanks,” Ori said, hobbling to his feet.

He was not scared. He was ashamed. “I was useless, in need of saving.” The thought hammered at him. “I should have seen the monster from further away, I should have had my sword already drawn, I should have been able to save myself.”

To Ori, the rules of this world were brutally simple. Strength determined who lived and who died. Those who had more power were the ones who saved others. Power. I need power. He focused on the goal. If I can’t save myself, then how am I ever going to be able to save anyone else.

Ori and Tez walked back to the lodge, Tez carrying the onyx stone in his pouch. They found Rost chopping wood behind the now-expanded cabin, which had seen many additions over the years to fit the four of them.

Rost saw the blood all over them. “Are you two boys alright? Looks like you were able to stick it to one of those forsaken monsters. Was the stone intact?” Rost asked, his eyes focused on the pouch at Tez’s hip.

“The stone is clean, uncle,” Tez affirmed, wiping a stray smear of blood from his jaw.

Ori, wiping blood from his ear, sighed in frustration. “There are more and more monsters making their way into the Southern Basin. The Reclamation Unit must be slacking. It has been three years, and they have barely even secured the border.”

Tez, looking over at the lodge, smiled faintly. “Maybe what they need is the three of us.”

Just then, the back door of the cabin opened, and Jade stepped out. Her dark green hair had grown longer, reaching the middle of her back. She briefly acknowledged Tez with a nod, but her focus was immediately on Ori. She saw his bloodied face and the injury he was hiding.

“Ori!” she exclaimed, running over, her small hands immediately going to his temples, her touch gentle but strong. Her affection was palpable, and she quickly started assessing the knot on his skull.

Ori stood rigid, his discomfort clear. He hated feeling like a wounded pup in front of his stronger companion.

Rost spoke up, holding the axe loosely in his hand. “The Reclamation Unit is not the issue, Ori. They are fighting the enemy on a hundred fronts.” He looked at the three youths, Tez and Jade looking strong, Ori looking shame-faced. “Besides, we have an agreement. You won’t be joining that unit until all three of you have beaten me in a duel. Ori, you’re the only one left.”

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