Chapter 1: Prologue
As Gondore stepped out of the small cabin, he only brought a water flask, a woodcutter's knife, and a bundle of dried meat. That should suffice, he thought. The previous owner of the cabin had a rocking chair which Gondore quite liked, but unfortunately, he couldn't take it with him. Besides, he knew he would likely change his mind soon enough: apart from sustenance, drink, and tools for crafting weapons, there was little else that held value in his life.
For the past two months, life hidden away in the mountain cabin had been rather pleasant. Quiet, undisturbed, and reminiscent of the days when he would take his children up the hills, teaching them how to hunt game and find mountain springs. The only exception was the time when someone came looking for the cabin's owner. Gondore watched from the woods as they knocked on the window and then left. He thought to himself, "Just like me, they prefer a solitary life, relying on no one."
Raindrops landed on Gondore's eyelids as he stepped outside, accompanied by a biting wind. He returned to the cabin, fetched a coat from the wardrobe, and put it on. This coat belonged to the cabin's previous owner, a garment Gondore never favored due to a stubborn bloodstain that never washed out. But now he had no choice. Stepping back outside, he closed the door behind him, patted it, and said, "Goodbye," before turning to depart. Looking up at the rain, a streak of blue lightning tore across the eastern sky, followed by a series of them, unveiling the contours of the mountains and the backbone of the land from the darkness.
He began searching for the path down the mountain. His shoes quickly filled with mud, and the crashing thunder above was incessant. His own shadow danced at his feet, now visible, now vanishing. Branches caught onto his clothes, and he swung his woodcutter's knife to free himself. After a short while, he realized his decision to leave was the right one: the torrent had already destroyed the familiar path he usually took down. He spotted a young mountain wolf struggling in the thick muddy current, its front paws flailing while its hind legs desperately searched for traction. Despite its efforts, the young wolf lost its balance and tumbled into the mud, a chaotic mix of pebbles and twigs, sliding downward. The young wolf seemed to emit a mournful howl, though Gondore couldn't be certain if he had truly heard it.
Gondore had no choice but to seek an alternative route. After walking a bit longer, he found a safer option was to ascend, taking a gentle carriage path toward the mountainside, then making his way around to the other side. And so he did. When he reached a platform near the mountainside, rain pouring heavily, he turned around and saw that another mudslide had engulfed the distant cabin. He thought, "Hopefully the force of this mudslide won't unearth the cabin owner's body."
Ascending the carriage path, he walked for ten minutes along the way, feeling safer now. He sat down, removed his shoes, and shook off the mud inside. He could see the darkened woods below spreading southwards to the earth's edge, and he heard the rain playing a symphony on countless leaves. At the edge of his sight, there were flickering lights—the ships anchored outside the harbor of Southshore.
Having taken in the scene before him, Gondore rose to his feet and put on his shoes. Just then, he heard faint voices up ahead. Initially, he mistook it for the chirping of a rain-soaked bird, but he quickly realized someone was calling out for help.
He walked toward the source of the sound and soon spotted a damaged carriage blocking the road. A wheel had come off and lay nearly ten meters away from the carriage. The vehicle itself had been struck by a falling rock, sending splintered wood scattering everywhere. His eyes first fell upon the lifeless body of the coachman, his cheek a bloody mess against the rock wall. The horses pulling the carriage were also dead, a broken axle piercing one of their necks, the rain failing to wash away the scent of blood in the air. Carefully stepping over the scene, he saw a small child lying by the tail of one of the horses.
Gondore approached and knelt down. It was a girl, no more than three or four years old, unconscious and without any obvious external injuries. He placed his hand on her forehead, feeling the heat. Removing his coat, he wrapped her in it, then picked her up and walked toward another woman dressed in red who was seated on the ground ahead— the source of the cries for help.
"Help!" the woman exclaimed. "Is anyone there? Has anyone come?" Sensing Gondore's presence, she raised her head. He noticed her eyes were tightly shut, blood trickling from beneath her eyelids, blending with the rain.
"Is anyone there? I can't see. Please, make a sound."
Gondore shifted the child to his left arm and gently touched the woman's shoulder with his right hand. She jolted and took a sharp breath, her hands fumbling forward, finally clutching onto Gondore's clothing.
"Kind sir," she said, "have you seen the children? I can't find them."
"You made a grave mistake taking this mountain path at a time like this."
"Yes, but... my eyes hurt so much. I can't open them. Sir, the children..."
"I saw a girl, she's still alive," Gondore said, pulling the woman's hand and guiding it to touch the girl's hair.
"You only found her?" she asked.
"I didn't see any other children. Just this one."
"I see..." She lowered her head, withdrew her hand, and slumped back. Gondore remained silent for a moment. Sensing her distress, he spoke, "Are you planning to leave? Take this child with you. I'm already blind. Don't mind me. There should be a pouch of coins in the carriage. If you're willing to care for this child, then take it..."
Gondore extended his right hand and gently held the woman's chin, tilting her face up slightly. He knew she was frightened, overwhelmed by the accident, sudden blindness, the presence of a silent stranger, and the cold rain. She trembled vigorously. Another bolt of lightning illuminated the sky; the sound of loose stones sliding down the hillside and into the trees faded into the symphony of rain and thunder, like silent drumbeats.
"No," Gondore said. "We'll leave together."
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone