The Dying Sun

As they entered the cave, a world unlike anything in Solvana unfolded before them. The air was thick with the scent of fresh earth and wildflowers. Towering trees, their leaves shimmering under the golden rays of sunlight, stretched endlessly. The light filtered through the dense canopy, casting shifting patterns on the forest floor. Birds flitted between branches, their songs merging into a harmonious symphony, while small animals scurried past, oblivious to the outsiders in their land.

It was beautiful. Peaceful. Almost unreal.

Then, through the dense foliage, they saw it—a kingdom enclosed by towering stone walls.

Nitin's breath hitched. "So... is this the kingdom of the elves?" His voice carried the awe of someone witnessing something sacred.

Luka's expression darkened. "No," he muttered. "This was the kingdom of the elves. Now, that bastard Stormbreaker rules this heaven..." His fists clenched as he trailed off, teeth grinding audibly.

"The people.... Oh, God," Nicolas sank to the ground, his voice hollow. "All the men are slaves. The women... they're just entertainment for those filthy dogs." He buried his face in his hands, shoulders trembling.

"If that bastard is a demon," Matteo said in a hoarse whisper, "then what does that make us? Are we even human after what we've done?" He reached out to console Nicolas, but his own hand shook so much that he let it drop. His throat tightened as he swallowed back a sob.

Viktor leaned against a tree, sliding down until he sat on the cold earth. "I heard he had a wife and two children.... What happened to them, no one knows." His voice was barely above a whisper.

Tomasz looked up at the sky, his gaze distant. "We knew what kind of monster he was, and yet we helped him win. We're no saints. We're devils—bastard devils. Everything these people are enduring is because of us."

"No!" Alaric suddenly snapped, grabbing Viktor's collar. "We did nothing wrong! Stop crying like children. We were just following orders—that's all there is to it!" His eyes burned with frustration, as if he were convincing himself more than anyone else.

Viktor shoved him back. "What a nice way to sleep at night, huh? Just 'following orders'—that's how you cope? What do you tell yourself before bed, Alaric? What do you take to drown it all out?"

Alaric's face twisted in fury. "Why the fuck do you care? The people suffering here are nobodies to us. They are nothing. So why are you crying like a child? If you're so broken up over them, why don't you go bring back their dead?"

Viktor's eyes flashed. "You think I'm some kind of god? I'm here to save someone—someone who matters to me. What makes you think I'd throw my life away for people I don't even know?" He moved toward Alaric, rage twisting his features, but Nitin stepped between them.

"Enough!" Nitin's voice was like a blade, sharp and final. "We're not kids anymore. Fighting, pleading, begging—none of that will change anything. If we really care, then we need to do something. Otherwise, all this guilt is pointless."

Nicolas let out a slow breath and stood up, brushing the dirt from his clothes. "You're smart, Nitin. That's exactly what I've been trying to say all along." Without another word, he walked ahead.

"Let's just go," Sebastian muttered, his voice hollow. "We're all too broken to think clearly right now. It's better if we stay quiet."

One by one, the others followed, their spirits heavy.

Viktor lingered, pressing his fingers against his closed eyes as if trying to squeeze out the last of his tears.

Nitin crouched beside him. "Let's go. Sebastian's right." He helped Viktor to his feet, throwing his arm over his shoulder. Together, they followed the others.

The gate before them gleamed like a second sun rising from the earth.

"It's guarded," Matteo whispered, stepping behind Nicolas.

"No," Nicolas said grimly. "Not guards. Slaves. There are no rights here anymore."

At the entrance, elves stood in silent rows, their necks chained together. As the group passed, the elves kissed the ground in their presence.

Above, from a balcony, a few nobles and soldiers chuckled, watching the display like it was nothing more than a casual spectacle.

Viktor clenched his jaw. "Those bastards...."

Sebastian suddenly stopped. He knelt beside an elf who had collapsed, body limp against the cold stone.

"Please wake up," he whispered, shaking him gently. "The higher-up has already passed."

"What is he doing?" Luka's voice held a sharp edge of panic. "If the higher-up finds out, we're dead."

He took a step toward Sebastian, but Nicolas grabbed his wrist, stopping him. Luka turned, seeing Nicolas shake his head.

Sebastian lifted the elf's head, but the man's ragged breathing sent a cloud of dust onto Sebastian's polished black shoes.

"S-Sorry, Master!" The elf gasped in horror and, before anyone could react, dropped to his knees and licked the shoe. "Please…... don't touch my wife and daughter! I'll clean it! Please, just don't—"

"What the hell are you doing?!" Nicolas and Sebastian shouted at the same time, recoiling in horror.

"Stop! Please, stop!" Sebastian cried, grabbing the elf and pulling him into a tight embrace. His own tears soaked into the elf's tattered clothes. "You don't have to do this. I'm begging you, please don't."

Viktor dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead to the dirt. "This is hell," he whispered, voice trembling. "What are we even supposed to do? What can we do?"

The town was alive—but only for the entertainment of the king's soldiers.

As they walked through the streets, the screams of young women echoed, their agonized cries piercing through the stone walls.

Tomasz clenched his head, his fingers digging into his scalp. "No...… please. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear it...… I can't hear it. Please….. stop….. Stop…..STOP!"

Nitin, Viktor, and Luka walked like soulless husks, staring at the ground, forcing themselves to not look. They moved toward the castle, like puppets on invisible strings, pulled forward by fate itself.

The grand gates loomed ahead. They entered, unprepared for the nightmare waiting inside.

Elven women, barely clothed, their bodies reduced to objects, scrubbed the palace floors with chains locked around their necks.

Nitin and Viktor staggered back as if struck.

"No," Nitin whispered. "I can't. I can't go inside. I'll wait here."

"Are you insane?" Tomasz demanded. "We have to—"

"No," Nicolas interrupted, sitting beside Nitin and Viktor. "We didn't get permission to enter anyway. It's better this way."

"Fine." Luka sighed. "Let's just do what we can. Whether this is the best or worst choice…... only time will tell."

They waited.

Five minutes later, the higher-up emerged from the palace, adjusting his armor as if he had changed into a fresh set.

He eyed them. "So, you were waiting outside."

"Yes, sir," Nitin stepped forward. "We didn't receive permission to enter."

The higher-up smirked. "Excellent. Our errand is ready. It will be delivered to the kingdom's gate. Let's go."

And just like that, they moved forward.

There was no turning back.