The Price of Desperation

Chapter 2: The Price of Desperation

Lucian Ashwood stepped out of the grand, cold walls of the Ashwood mansion, the chill of the early morning air creeping through his worn clothes. The mansion, once lively and bustling with the finest Mythbounds of the land, now stood as a decaying relic—just like him. He needed to clear his mind, push away the nightmare that had clung to him like a suffocating shadow.

But he wasn't alone for long.

"Haha! Standing there like a bloated statue, eh? You hopeless fatty!"

The teasing laughter was unmistakable. Lucian turned, squinting into the early dawn light, to see his one and only friend approaching—a 16-year-old boy with an average but cheerful face, a wide grin plastered across it.

This was Little Finger, his childhood companion.

The name fit, thanks to the tiny extra digit on his right hand—a quirk his father, a wealthy man in Lor, was too lazy to name him beyond.

"Just the person I was hoping to see!" Lucian's sour mood instantly lifted as he scooped up his black cat, Midnight, and handed it to a nearby servant. "Come, Little Finger, let's not return until dark and we're drunk out of our wits!"

"That's what I like to hear!" Little Finger jumped with excitement, already daydreaming about their debauchery. "I hear Wines and Goru has some fresh new girls. We'll head there first!"

"Good!" Lucian chuckled, their minds set. Off they went, weaving through the sleepy streets of Lor.

As they entered the heart of the village, the cobblestone streets clicked under Lucian's heavy steps.

But the eyes—the eyes of the villagers burned into his back. Whispers rose like a dark tide, swirling around him, the venom in their words stinging more than any wound ever could.

"Isn't that the son of the Dual Black and Purple Thorns?"

"Yeah, but look at him. Fatter than last time! What a waste."

"All he does is drink and stuff his face."

"Such a disgrace. His parents were legends, and look at him—a spoiled, untalented mess. Can't even awaken."

"Can't wait for the day he turns sixteen and loses the Ashwood estate, then our great village will flourish again and once again welcome powerful mythbounds"

The words coiled around his heart like a serpent, tightening with each step. Lucian clenched his jaw but kept his head high, ignoring them. Their hatred was understandable.

They had once admired the Ashwoods—now they resented him for inheriting his parents' wealth, yet squandering their legacy.

"Shut your damn mouths before I come over there and beat you senseless!" Little Finger's angry shout cut through the growing murmur of insults, his fiery glare enough to make the villagers flinch and look away. "You lazy rats have no right to speak about Lucian!"

A flicker of warmth sparked in Lucian's chest. Little Finger had always been fiercely protective of him, and today was no different.

"

Forget it," Lucian muttered under his breath, acting indifferent, but his eyes darkened as he committed the faces of the mockers to memory. One day, he promised himself. One day, I'll shut all your mouths.

His chubby fists clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms.

"C'mon, brother Lucian!" Little Finger patted him on the back, breaking the tense moment.

"The new girls won't wait forever."

They pressed forward through the village, heading toward the marketplace, the scent of fresh bread and roasted meat momentarily distracting Lucian from his frustration.

As they neared the market square, a commotion caught Lucian's attention—a crowd gathering around a single stall, voices buzzing with excitement.

"What's going on?" Lucian asked, curiosity piqued as he and Little Finger pushed their way through the throng.

At the center of the crowd stood an elderly merchant, his face mostly hidden beneath a dark hood. His voice boomed with authority, commanding the attention of every onlooker.

"Listen well! Today, I offer the rarest and most valuable of treasures—Moon Shadow Syrum! One drop can pull anyone into a vision, awakening powers beyond your imagination!"

Lucian's heart skipped a beat. Moon Shadow Syrum? He could hardly believe it—such a treasure was rumored to be able to awaken even those who had long since been considered hopeless. His pulse quickened, hope bubbling up inside him. This could be his last chance.

"Lucian, you have to get this!" Little Finger's eyes sparkled with excitement. He knew better than anyone what this could mean for Lucian.

Without hesitation, Lucian shoved his way to the front of the crowd, his large frame proving useful as he elbowed past the villagers. His gaze locked onto the small vial in the merchant's hand, the liquid within shimmering with an ethereal glow.

"How much for the syrum goid sir?" Lucian asked, his voice tight with desperation.

The merchant glanced at him, a sly smile playing on his lips. "150 gold—or its equivalent in Drakonian Crowns."

Lucian's stomach dropped. "150 gold?! Are you mad?!"

The merchant's eyes gleamed. "This is no ordinary elixir, boy. It's worth its weight in gold. One drop can change your fate."

Lucian stood frozen, the merchant was right but that didn't make him feel better. He had barely 60 gold to his name, not even close to what was needed. Panic seized him—this was his only shot, and it was slipping away.

Just then, Little Finger stepped forward, thrusting a bundle of paper bills into Lucian's trembling hands. "Take it."

Lucian blinked he saw the paper bills they were exactly a 100 draconiancrowns more than enough to complete the difference,

stunned he asked. "But...why?"

Little Finger was around his age, and still a mortal who needed to awaken, this syrum could help him too yet he was giving a way such good chance for his friend.

Little Finger waved him off. "Don't thank me. Just promise me one thing—when you become a Mythbound, take care of me, alright?"

Lucian swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. "I will with all i have!"

The merchant smirked, taking the money and handing Lucian the vial. "A fine deal for one who knows the price of desperation."

But before Lucian could grasp the vial, a voice boomed behind him. "Hold it right there!"

Lucian turned, his blood running cold. Sylass Vail, a former Mythbound of immense power forced to retire due to heavy injuries, stood at the edge of the crowd, his presence suffocating. Beside him, his son Toby, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips, glared at Lucian.

"I'll offer five times what the boy is paying," Sylass said, his words dripping with disdain as his attendant stepped forward, holding a sum worth 500 gold.

"I already bought it! The syrum is mine!" Lucian's voice cracked with desperation.

Toby sneered, stepping closer. "You think you can challenge my father, fat boy? Want another beating?"

Fear paralyzed Lucian. Toby had humiliated him countless times, and Sylass injured or not had enough influence to crush him like an insect. The crowd watched, holding their breath, expecting Lucian to crumble.

But the merchant's voice cut through the tension. "The deal's done," he said, handing the vial to Lucian with a soft smile. "I owe your parents a debt, boy. Take it and make good them proud."

The crowd gasped in disbelief, whispers of danger swirling.

Sylass's eyes narrowed, his face contorting with rage. "You'll regret this," he muttered, his voice low but laced with menace.

"Thank you thank you!" Lucian's hands trembled as he clutched the vial, his heart racing.

Sylass stepped closer, his breath hot on Lucian's neck. "You can't escape fate, boy. That syrum will be mine."

But the merchant only chuckled, packing up his stall quickly before vanishing into the crowd.

Lucian hurried away scared out of his wits by Sylass words, Little Finger by his side, their hearts pounding.

Behind them, Sylass watched, his eyes burning with hatred.

"Follow them," he hissed to his men. "Get me that syrum, no matter what. As for the rest of you follow the merchant, let him know the repercussions of crossing me"