A World in Chains

The sun was setting, casting long shadows over the village of Ashen. The twin suns, one large and golden, the other smaller and tinged with red, hung low in the sky, giving the entire landscape an eerie, surreal glow. Ethan stood at the edge of the village, watching the villagers go about their work.

The day had been quiet, save for the small talk he'd shared with Lyra and a few other villagers. His new ability to understand their language had allowed him to get small glimpses into their lives. Yet there was an air of resignation in their voices, something unspoken that clung to the very ground beneath their feet.

As he looked out across the fields, his thoughts turned back to Lord Varkos. Lyra had told him little about the man, but her hatred for him was obvious. There was a bitterness in her voice, one that was shared by the others when they spoke of him, even in hushed tones.

"What kind of man would charge taxes to the point where people disappear?" Ethan muttered to himself.

"An evil one," Lyra's voice answered from behind him, causing him to turn. She stood in the doorway of her small hut, arms crossed, watching him.

Ethan shook his head. "But why doesn't anyone fight back? Why doesn't anyone try to—"

"You saw the soldiers earlier, didn't you?" Lyra interrupted. "Those men don't just come to collect taxes. They take people. Those who can't pay or refuse to comply, they…" She trailed off, her voice cracking slightly.

Ethan felt a pang of anger, of helplessness, rise in his chest. The villagers weren't just being taxed. They were being oppressed.

He had learned some of their ways through brief conversations. The fields were mostly for subsistence farming, the people here barely scraping by, working from dawn until dusk just to survive. And then came Lord Varkos's soldiers, collecting what little they had left.

No one had ever dared to defy him.

"I can't just sit here and do nothing," Ethan said, his voice low but determined.

Lyra shook her head, a sad, knowing expression crossing her face. "What do you think would happen if you did? The soldiers would take you away just like the others. Or worse…"

Ethan didn't need her to finish the thought. He could see it in the way the villagers moved around, always looking over their shoulders, always afraid. There was no rebellion here, no fight, because fear had rooted itself deep within them.

But that wasn't going to stop him.

He turned to face Lyra. "I'm not from here, Lyra. I don't know your world, and I don't know how things work, but I do know this: you don't let people like Varkos win."

Lyra looked at him, her brow furrowed, as though weighing his words. She seemed torn, but after a moment, she exhaled heavily and looked away. "You don't understand. If it were that simple, we would have fought back long ago. But he has the soldiers, the power. He's untouchable."

Ethan shook his head. "Not untouchable. Just… afraid."

Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of hope—or perhaps skepticism—shining in them. "Afraid?"

"Yeah." Ethan stepped closer, his fists clenched. "He's afraid of something. That's why he's so ruthless. But the moment you stop being afraid of him, the moment you start fighting back…" He paused, feeling the weight of the words. "That's when you win."

There was a long silence between them, the sounds of the village slowly fading into the background. Lyra's gaze softened, and for the first time, Ethan saw the weariness in her eyes—the exhaustion from years of living under a tyrant's thumb.

"Maybe you're right," she whispered, almost to herself.

Ethan nodded firmly. "I don't know how things work here. But I know how to fight. I've fought my whole life."

Lyra studied him, and then, for the first time since they'd met, a small, hopeful smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Then maybe you're the one who can help us."

The next few days were filled with quiet planning. Ethan spent more time in the village, talking with Lyra and a few of the bolder villagers. They didn't know much about Lord Varkos beyond the fact that he ruled with an iron fist. His soldiers were well-trained and well-armed. There had been whispers of a resistance, of course, but no one had ever been brave enough to take action.

But that was about to change.

Ethan's time on Earth had taught him how to fight. He had spent years training, learning about weapons, tactics, survival. In Avalon, there were no guns, no modern technology. But there were bows, knives, spears. He would train them, teach them to fight back.

And when the time came, they would strike.

The villagers were skeptical at first, but as they saw Ethan's resolve, they started to listen. Slowly, they began to gather the few weapons they had hidden away—blades, old spears, and hunting bows. Ethan set up training sessions with Lyra, teaching the villagers the basics of combat.

The first time they took up arms, it was awkward and clumsy. But Ethan had patience. He guided their hands, correcting their stances, teaching them how to stand their ground. The work was exhausting, but every day they got a little better.

Lyra was a quick learner, though she was hesitant at first. She didn't want anyone to get hurt, but Ethan reminded her that survival wasn't about avoiding pain. It was about doing whatever was necessary to protect your people.

After a week of training, the villagers were no longer simply farmers. They were fighters. One afternoon, as Ethan and Lyra were practicing with a small group of villagers, a distant horn echoed across the fields.

Ethan froze. His heart skipped a beat. He knew that sound—the horn of the Varkos soldiers.

"They're coming," Lyra whispered, her face pale.

The training ground went silent, and Ethan turned to the villagers. "This is it. Get ready."

The villagers, for all their fear, held their weapons tightly. They were ready.

Ethan glanced at Lyra. "You're with me. We fight. But we fight smart."

Lyra nodded, though there was a flash of fear in her eyes.

From the distance, the soldiers could be seen marching toward the village, their armor gleaming in the fading light. A dozen strong, maybe more. But Ethan knew they had the element of surprise and they weren't going down without a fight.

As the soldiers approached, Ethan felt a surge of adrenaline. This wasn't just a battle for the villagers of Ashen. This was the beginning of something much larger.

He turned to the villagers. "When I give the signal, we hit them hard. Do not hesitate."

The soldiers were getting closer. Ethan could see the expressions on their faces, the arrogance in their stride. They thought they were untouchable. They thought the villagers were too weak to resist.

But that was about to change.