Kapitel 3: The two siblings
Garmond drifted in an abyss of light, his consciousness tethered only by the faint echo of a voice—a soft, feminine whisper that rippled through the void.
"Wake up, my darling… you are the fate of our world. Only you can save us from Azazel. You alone wield the Emperor's Armor."
The voice tugged at his memory, stirring something deep within him—a familiarity he couldn't place. He felt as though he had heard this voice before, in some other life, but where? His thoughts fragmented as the warmth of a distant sun began to touch his face. He squinted against the light, his peaceful slumber abruptly shattered.
A sharp, stabbing pain shot through his skull, forcing him upright. His hands instinctively clamped over his temples, trying to fend off the wave of disorientation that crashed over him. Fragments of memories assaulted his mind—battles, flames, the clash of steel, but also… an overwhelming void. Pieces were missing, time lost to him. His chest tightened as he tried to grasp the fleeting memories, feeling them slip away like sand through his fingers.
"Ah! This pain…" he gasped, gritting his teeth.
The sudden ache of a more personal memory pierced his heart. *Theresa… why?* Her betrayal lingered, a wound far deeper than any sword could inflict. He had trusted her, loved her, and yet it was her hand that had ended him. The thought made his breath catch, disbelief battling with a growing anger. Had some sorcerer bewitched her? Was it Azazel's doing? The more he tried to rationalize it, the more his mind rebelled.
He exhaled sharply and looked around. His heart skipped. Where was he?
The towering canopy of ancient trees loomed above him, their branches swaying softly in a breeze that carried the scent of damp earth and pine. The chirping of unseen birds filled the air, an unfamiliar melody both foreign and hauntingly nostalgic. None of this made sense. He was supposed to be dead, yet here he stood, surrounded by life.
"Am I… am I in the underworld?" he whispered, scanning his surroundings. A cold shiver ran down his spine as the eerie thought crept in. Was this some punishment? A realm for the damned?
Garmond tensed, his senses on high alert. His eyes darted around, expecting the trees to morph into demonic forms at any moment, but minutes passed with only the rustling of leaves in response. Slowly, his shoulders eased.
"If this is hell… it's not as bad as I thought," he muttered, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. His mind wandered back to his last night before the battle—the night with Theresa. He shook his head, brushing aside the memory.
He pushed aside the chunks of earth around him, freeing himself from what felt like a grave. His fingers brushed against cold metal. Garmond froze, eyes widening at the sight of the golden blade beside him.
"How is this here?" His voice barely escaped as a whisper.
The sword was a relic, far too powerful to have simply appeared here with him. But as he tried to lift it, his arms strained. He could barely move it. His heart pounded in confusion. This was his blade, yet it felt impossibly heavy.
Before he could dwell on it further, the sound of footsteps crunching through the underbrush caught his attention. He turned sharply, every muscle in his body tensing. Emerging from the shadows of the trees were two figures—a young man with disheveled black hair and a girl whose eyes sparkled with mischief.
The girl tilted her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Are you lost, little one?"
Garmond's brow furrowed. *Little one?* The words struck his pride like a blow, but he remained silent. The siblings exchanged glances, clearly sizing him up.
"You may not be a child, but you sure look like one," the girl continued, her voice teasing. "Alone out here too."
The boy chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, you look small. Lost. Like a kid."
Indignation flared in Garmond. His lips parted to retort, but as he glanced down at his hands, his heart sank. His once powerful frame—muscles honed by years of battle—was now slender, childlike. He stood in disbelief, staring at his limbs. How had he not noticed it before? His entire body had shrunk.
"I…" he started, but the words stuck in his throat. How had he fallen so far?
The girl, Devine, giggled. "So, do you mind telling us what you're doing here?"
Garmond stammered, "I don't… I don't know."
Devine glanced at her brother, then back at Garmond with a concerned look. "We can't leave him here, Trevor. It's dangerous with the beasts roaming."
Trevor frowned. "And where exactly would he stay? We can barely feed ourselves, Devine."
She bit her lip but remained firm. "We can't just leave him."
Trevor sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. He can come with us."
Devine rushed to Garmond's side, offering her hand. "Come on, we'll get you somewhere safe."
Garmond hesitated, his mind racing. Could he trust them? He weighed his options, scanning their faces. They didn't seem like enemies, but after everything that had happened, he couldn't afford to let his guard down.
Reluctantly, he took her hand. Her grip was warm, though rough from hard work.
"Thank you," he muttered, his voice softer now. For the first time since waking, he allowed himself to feel a flicker of gratitude.
Devine flushed slightly at his smile, her earlier teasing vanishing as she helped him to his feet. "It's nothing. I'm Devine, and that's my brother Trevor."
"Gary," he lied, unsure why but feeling it was safer to keep his true name hidden. At least until he knew more.
"Well, Gary, let's get going before the real monsters come out," she said, her smile returning as she led him toward the path.
Garmond followed, his eyes briefly lingering on the golden sword still half-buried behind him. He would return for it later.
For now, he had to survive.
AUTORENGEDANKEN 
The_Broken_Author
The_Broken_Author Okay.....Just keep pushing.
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