Edric

A week had passed, and the torture chamber had become a tomb of silence. The air was thick with the metallic scent of dried blood and damp stone.

Eryndor remained tied to the table, his body motionless except for the faint rise and fall of his chest.

His bruised and battered form was unrecognizable; his once-vibrant eyes were now dull and lifeless, staring at nothing.

The door creaked open, breaking the suffocating stillness. A middle-aged man stepped inside, his shoulders hunched and his face squeezed with despair.

His name was Edric, one of Elyria's most loyal servants. Known for his kindness and unwavering dedication, he had served the royal family with joy, never complaining, always diligent.

His bond with Elyria had been strong, and he had cherished Eryndor as though the boy were his own son.

When Edric saw the state Eryndor was in, tears streamed down his face. His hands trembled as he whispered, "Young Master… oh, my dear boy…"

Eryndor didn't react. His body was too broken, his mind too far gone to register the familiar voice.

Edric's heart shattered at the sight, his sobs muffled as he approached cautiously. He glanced around, ensuring no one was near.

The king's decree was absolute: no food, no water, no aid. But Edric couldn't bear to see the child he loved like his own suffer this cruel fate.

Pulling out a damp, warm towel from his basket, he gently began wiping the grime and dried blood from Eryndor's face. The boy groaned faintly, the first sound he'd made in days.

"Shh, it's okay, my boy. I'm here," Edric whispered soothingly, his hands trembling as he worked. "I won't let you die like this."

Eryndor's eyelids fluttered, but his gaze remained unfocused.

Edric pulled out a small flask of water and tilted it toward Eryndor's parched lips. The boy's head hung to the side, too weak to drink.

Edric frowned in worry, then retrieved a spoon from his basket. Carefully, he spooned small amounts of water into Eryndor's mouth.

At first, the liquid dribbled down his chin, but eventually, Eryndor managed to swallow. A faint sigh escaped his lips, a sound of fragile relief.

His eyes moved sluggishly toward Edric, a flicker of gratitude breaking through his lifeless expression.

"It's okay," Edric murmured, tears still streaking his face. "Don't try to speak. Just rest."

Reaching into his basket again, Edric pulled out a small bowl of porridge. He stirred it with the spoon and brought a small portion to Eryndor's lips. The boy hesitated for a moment before parting his lips slightly, accepting the food.

Edric smiled through his tears as Eryndor ate. "That's it, Young Master. Eat slowly. You've been so strong."

Spoonful by spoonful, Eryndor consumed the porridge. He ate hungrily, desperate for nourishment, and for the first time in days, a faint glimmer of life returned to his eyes.

Edric's heart swelled with relief as he fed the boy. "You'll be okay. I'll keep coming back, no matter the risk. You're not alone."

But just as Eryndor swallowed his tenth spoonful, the door burst open with a deafening crash.

Five guards stormed in, their heavy boots echoing in the chamber. Edric froze, the bowl slipping from his hands and shattering on the ground.

"What is this?!" one of the guards roared, his eyes narrowing on the scene.

Another guard pointed at Edric, his face contorted with fury. "The king's orders were clear! No one is to help the boy!"

Edric stood, trembling but defiant, shielding Eryndor's broken body with his own. "He's just a child! He'll die if no one helps him!"

"That's none of your concern," the lead guard growled. "Step aside, or you'll share his punishment."

Eryndor's weak voice rasped out, barely audible. "Don't… hurt him…"

Edric glanced down at the boy, tears welling anew. "I won't leave you, Young Master," he whispered before turning back to the guards.

"You'll have to drag me out of here!" Edric shouted, his voice shaking with both fear and determination.

The guards exchanged dark glances before advancing, their hands reaching for their weapons. The room filled with tension, and Eryndor's faint, broken voice echoed in the chamber.

"Please… don't…" he murmured, his tears mingling with the blood on his face.

But mercy was nowhere to be found in the cold eyes of the guards.

Two of the guards moved toward Edric with menacing intent. Edric's breath hitched, but he steadied himself, knowing what he had to do.

Gritting his teeth, he raised his trembling hands and activated his ability. A faint shimmer of blue light surrounded him as he summoned his power—Air Ripple, a low-level wind manipulation skill that allowed him to create gusts of air to push back enemies.

The guards hesitated for a moment, startled by the sudden burst of wind that forced them to take a step back. Edric seized the opportunity, sending another wave of air to knock them off balance. One guard stumbled, nearly falling, but the other held his ground.

"You'll regret this, servant!" snarled the lead guard, drawing his blade.

Edric knew he was outmatched. These were trained fighters, Rho and Omega-ranked warriors, far beyond his capabilities.

He fought valiantly, sweat dripping from his brow as he sent gust after gust toward them, but his energy was waning. His E-ranked ability was no match for their skill and strength.

Within moments, one of the guards closed the distance and struck him across the chest with the hilt of his sword, sending Edric sprawling to the ground. The other guard kicked him in the side, knocking the wind out of him.

"Restrain him!" barked the headguard.

They bound Edric's hands behind his back and forced him to his knees. The headguard sneered, motioning to another soldier. "Flog him until I return. Make sure he understands the cost of defiance."

As Edric braced himself, the door to the chamber creaked open again. This time, the King himself entered, his face a mask of fury.

"Is this the fool who dared to defile my decree?" the King thundered, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

Edric lifted his head weakly, his voice soft but steady. "My King… I only came to give him a little food. If he dies, how would he endure the punishment for his mother's sins?"

The King's eyes narrowed, and a cruel smile tugged at his lips. "If he dies, that would relieve me of the burden entirely."

Edric's heart sank. He had hoped his words might appeal to the King's sense of justice, but there was none to be found in the man before him.

The King's gaze hardened as he turned to the guards. "For his disobedience, gather his family, every last one, down to the smallest child. Burn them all in the public square."

Edric's eyes widened in horror. "No! My King, please!" he cried, struggling against his bindings.

"They've done nothing wrong! Show mercy, I beg you! Punish me if you must, but leave my family out of it!"

Eryndor, barely conscious, weakly pleaded as well. "F-father… please… don't…" His hoarse voice cracked under the strain.

But the King was unmoved. He raised a hand, slicing it through the air in a deadly arc. "Enough!"

And before anyone could react, Edric's head fell from his shoulders, rolling to the floor. His lifeless body slumped forward, blood pooling beneath it.

Eryndor screamed, his voice raw and filled with despair. Tears streamed down his face as he struggled against the bindings that held him to the table. "No! Edric! No!"

The King's expression remained cold, unfeeling. He turned to the guards, his voice icy. "Tie his head and display it in the open square. Let it serve as a lesson to all, my word is law. Disobedience will not be tolerated."

The guards saluted and moved to carry out the grisly task.

As the King turned to leave, he paused and glanced back at Eryndor. His eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction. "As for him," he said, pointing at the boy, "resume the flogging."

Eryndor no longer had the strength to beg. His body was broken, his spirit shattered. All he could do was lie there, silent tears streaming down his face as hatred began to bloom in his once-pure heart.