THE BANDITS FIRST ATTACK

Chapter 7:

Five years had passed since Johnny and Anabel had visited Elias the Seer, desperately seeking answers about their twin daughters, Ella and Isabella, and the mysterious fate entwined with their birth.

For years, life had been peaceful in Ashford Bay. The twins grew into bright, spirited girls, their laughter filling their home. The village thrived under the watchful eyes of its elders. But peace, fragile and fleeting, was shattered on a night of fire and blood.

It began with a whisper in the wind. A faint rumble, so subtle at first that the villagers ignored it. Waves crashing against the cliffs? A storm rolling in?

Then came the hoofbeats. Dozens, then hundreds, pounding against the dirt roads, shaking the ground. The sound grew louder, devouring the silence of the night. Then, a scream. Followed by fire.

By the time the alarm bell rang, the bandits were already among them.

Johnny woke to splintering wood. His body reacted before his mind caught up. He sprang up, heart hammering. The smell of smoke crept into their home. Through the window, flames danced against the sky, turning night into a hellish inferno. Outside, the clash of steel rang through the air, mixed with terrified cries.

Then, a crash.

Their front door burst open. A hulking figure filled the doorway, blocking the burning light. A bandit, scarred and grinning, stepped inside, his torch flickering. His wild eyes roamed the room, settling on Johnny.

"Found you," he sneered.

Johnny didn't hesitate. Instinct kicked in. He grabbed the wooden stool by the fire and swung. The heavy wood crashed into the bandit's ribs, sending him stumbling back with a grunt.

Johnny took his chance, slamming the door shut and bolting it.

"Anabel! The girls!"

Anabel was already up, clutching Isabella, her face pale but determined.

"Wake up, my love," she whispered to Ella. "We have to go."

Ella's sleepy eyes fluttered open. "Mama?"

"Shh, baby. Quiet now."

Johnny rushed to the back door, but the village was already in chaos. Fires consumed homes. Men and women ran screaming, some trying to flee, others desperately fighting back.

He turned to Anabel, breath ragged. "Take them to Elias. He lives by the cliffs. You'll be safe."

Anabel clutched his arm, shaking her head. "Johnny, no! You can't…"

He cupped her face, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. "I have to."

Tears burned her eyes, but she nodded. She wrapped the twins in thick cloaks and disappeared into the shadows.

Johnny turned back toward the burning village—and ran into battle.

The bandits swarmed the square, torches and blades flashing. They had come for gold, for food. For blood. But they had not expected resistance.

Johnny, Lord Ashford's men, and every able-bodied villager had gathered, armed with whatever they could find. They were outnumbered and outmatched. But they had one thing the bandits didn't. They were fighting for their home.

Old Tom, the village patriarch, stood at the front, gripping an old cutlass. His white hair was wild, his hands steady despite the chaos.

"Hold the line, lads!" he bellowed. "Make them bleed for every inch!"

The first wave of bandits charged. Johnny barely dodged a blade aimed for his throat. He grabbed a fallen spear and drove it into an attacker's side. The man gasped before collapsing.

Another lunged at Johnny. He ducked, swung a torch into the man's face. A scream tore through the air.

But for every bandit that fell, another took his place.

The battle raged. Swords clashed. Blood splattered the streets. The cries of the wounded filled the air.

Johnny fought. He bled. His muscles ached, his breath came in ragged gasps.

Then, a horn blew.

At the edge of the battlefield, a towering figure raised his hand. His face was shadowed beneath a hood, but his presence was unmistakable.

The bandit leader.

The attackers halted.

"You fought well tonight," he called, his deep voice cutting through the crackling flames and labored breaths of the wounded. "But this was just a taste." He paused, surveying the battered villagers with a smirk. "Next time, we'll bring twice the men… and we won't leave so soon."

A low murmur rippled through the surviving defenders. Johnny clenched his fists, muscles aching, eyes locked on the shadowed figure.

The bandit leader chuckled darkly. "Enjoy your victory while you can. Your village won't stand forever." With a final, taunting glance, he turned and vanished into the darkness, his men following like ghosts into the night.

With that, the bandits retreated.

The men of Ashford Bay stood panting, battered, but alive. They had won the battle. But Johnny knew this was only the beginning.

By dawn, the village lay in ruins. Homes reduced to ashes. Families mourning their lost loved ones. The air was thick with the scent of charred wood and blood. Johnny staggered through the wreckage, aching, clothes stained with soot and sweat.

He made his way toward the cliffs, heart pounding. Had Anabel and the girls made it?

Then, through the morning mist, he saw them.

Anabel stood near Elias's hut, clutching the twins tightly, her arms trembling from exhaustion and fear. At the sight of Johnny, relief crashed over her like a tidal wave. A strangled sob escaped her lips as she ran to him, tears spilling freely down her soot-streaked face.

"Johnny… oh, Johnny," she choked out, her voice raw with emotion. She clung to him, burying her face in his chest, her body shaking.

The twins whimpered in her grasp, their small hands reaching for their father. Johnny wrapped his arms around them all, holding them as if he'd never let go.

"Johnny..."

He pulled her into an embrace, holding her as if he would never let go.

Ella and Isabella clung to his legs, trembling.

"Papa... the bad men... will they come back?" Isabella whispered.

Johnny knelt, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His jaw tightened.

"Yes." His voice was gentle but firm. "But next time, we'll be ready."