Chapter 3: Burning fire
Lucas pov:
Sitting on a weathered bench beneath the gentle shade of an old oak tree, Elenoir's head found its place on my shoulder. "I'm genuinely worried about Favian, Lucas," she confessed, her voice tinged with anxiety as she traced patterns on my hand. In response, I gently grasped her hand, offering reassurance with a squeeze.
"Elenoir, everything will be alright. I won't let him cause any harm," I promised, determined to protect her from any danger.
"But why would he do such a thing? He was such a sweet boy," she mused, her voice soft and laden with confusion.
"People can change, Elenoir. Sometimes, circumstances mold them in unexpected ways," I explained, trying to offer some understanding.
Her fiery red hair mirrored the fire within my heart as I observed the delicate contours of her face illuminated by the moonlight. The worry lines etched on her forehead and the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes tugged at my heart.
"I know you'll do whatever it takes to keep everyone safe, Lucas," she said, finding comfort in our connection.
A bittersweet smile played on my lips. "That's the plan, Elenoir. We'll face this together."
Unable to resist the urge, my hand reached up to gently caress her hair, a tender gesture meant to convey reassurance and comfort. As the sunlight filtered through the tree's branches, I couldn't help but feel a sense of determination to protect Elenoir from any danger.
Elenoir leaned into the touch, her eyes meeting mine in a silent exchange, her forehead moved into mine as she rested it. In that small, stolen moment, it felt like the universe had momentarily aligned to grant us this moment of happiness. The weight on my shoulders lifted, and I couldn't help but let a genuine smile grace my lips. I loved her; there was no way around it.
Elenoir's touch lingered for a moment as she raised from my shoulder, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon. A look of concern etched across her face, she pointed towards our village, where a plume of smoke billowed into the sky. A knot tightened in my stomach as worry crept in.
My eyes fixated on the distant plume of smoke, my heart sinking as I realized it was coming from my village. "That's where my home is...." I mumbled, standing up abruptly and Elenoir following suit with a worried expression mirrored on her face.
"Don't worry, it's probably nothing,but I should probably go...." I tried to reassure her, though doubt lingered in my mind. Was I trying to convince her or myself? Either way, I could tell she wasn't fully convinced. "See you tomorrow," she replied, torn between concern and the desire to stay with me.
As she walked away, I couldn't help but hope that she wouldn't come back. The last thing I needed was for her to see the devastating state of my home. But my worry and fear overpowered any rational thoughts as I sprinted towards the rising smoke, each step a desperate plea for it not to be connected to my family.
My heart pounded in my chest as I muttered prayers under my breath, hoping against hope that it wasn't what I feared. But as I closed the distance and beheld the scene before me, my worst fears were confirmed. The once thriving grain reserve - the lifeline of my family - was now engulfed in a raging inferno. The flames roared and crackled, devouring everything in their path.
My parents were frantically throwing buckets of water onto the fire, their faces etched with anguish and determination. But it was like fighting an elephant with a needle; their efforts were futile against the ferocity of the flames.
"What happened?" I asked my father as I grabbed a bucket and headed towards the nearest well.
"We don't know," he answered desperately. "We came out when we smelled smoke and found this."
As we continued our helpless attempts to quell the fire, anger and frustration welled up inside me. It didn't take long for me to realize who was behind this - Favian. The maniacal shouting, the threat of revenge; it all pointed to him. I clenched my jaw in frustration as I filled another bucket from the well, knowing that it was my fault for not finishing the job and now my family was paying the price.
I shouldn't have allowed Favian to escape after all of that. The concern for Elenoir's reaction should have been secondary; I should have embraced ruthlessness, swiftly severing his neck with my blade.
In a desperate attempt to salvage what remained of the once thriving grain field, the other farmers arrived, each carrying buckets of water. Yet everything was futile, hours passed, and the fire gave no sign of stopping, the once yellow fields now became gray with the ashes.
''What are we going to do?'' my mother cried as she fell to her knees, before being comforted by the other village's women.
As the other farmers gathered around my father, their muddy hands grasped at his shoulders in a show of empathy and support. My father's tears mingled with the rain as he thanked them, feeling momentarily relieved from the weight of loss by their shared struggle. But I couldn't join in their display of communal solidarity.
It was disgusting, getting help from others when we were robbed of what was ours. My gaze, fueled by resentment, shifted eastward, fixating on the grand mansion of our count. The mansion, , loomed in the distance, and in my heart, I harbored an undeniable conviction—Favian, with his reckless actions, was the sole architect of our present suffering. That was it; I would have allowed him to live on account of Elenoir's well-being; well... that is no more; he was to die.