The Mad Goal

The last thing Ashen remembered was the strange figure appearing from the dark sky, the rebel. He knew that he was alive as his mind continuously replayed the massacre in the orphanage until it was completely stuck in his mind. Or maybe he was in hell, which he deserved as everyone he had known and loved was dead because of him.

He slowly began to feel the pain all over his body, confirming that he indeed was alive. Who had taken him? Was it Laenara? Or did the rebel win? He wanted to open his eyes, but he didn't have the strength. It had to be the after-effects of using magic at such a massive degree, something he vowed never to do again.

His senses returned, and he could hear distant laughter and conversation. Looking at the walls and ceiling, he could tell he was somewhere underground, but that was all. Where was he? With all the strength he could muster, he opened his eyes and was immediately attacked by a bright light, forcing him to turn his head away. Pain shot from his neck, which he felt he deserved.

When his vision finally adjusted, he realized he was in a small room that held only a table, filled with bloody bandages and potions. His sense of smell returned, making him smell the pungent odor of the potions he guessed were used to heal him.

He struggled to sit up straight on the bed, blamed on the pain and exhaustion. The bed creaked loudly, and he was sure the people who had taken him must have heard it. He had to run before they returned, he decided. He hated the rebels and despised the highborn.

He realized he was shirtless, his upper body covered in bandages. He tried to get out of the bed, but before he could, he heard quick footsteps growing louder until the door opened.

It was hard to judge how old the woman was. She looked young, but her eyes and demeanor felt too mature for someone her age. Maybe she had grown up too fast, just like he had.

'I was afraid you wouldn't wake up,' she said with a soft voice as she made her way to him. She wore a simple dress, and since it wasn't a maid's uniform, he realized that the rebel might have won. He really was strong.

'Are you a rebel?' He asked, his voice so weak it came out as a whisper.

'You need to rest, let your body and mind recover.' She instructed, her strict voice reminding him of the matron. Guilt and sadness overwhelmed him, forcing tears out.

'They are all dead because of me!' He cried out, startling the woman. Did she know about the orphanage? He had expected her to say it wasn't his fault. But she remained quiet, as if knowing he needed to feel whatever he was feeling. She had a look of pity on her face, which he despised.

She should be angry at him for letting the others die. She should be blaming him, hating him, punishing him. Why couldn't he have listened to Mother and never gone pickpocketing? It was too late now. She was dead, and so was everyone else.

'I should be dead with the rest of them. Why am I the one who lived?' He shouted before punching the bed. The woman rushed to him and held him in a tight hug meant to stop his rage but ended up comforting him. He found himself crying in her arms until he slept.

He dreamed of the orphans finally finding peace in the afterlife. Maybe it wasn't bad they were dead while he remained in this hellish world. Maybe that was why he survived, to be tortured until he paid for the lives lost.

The next time he woke, he was met by a familiar face. It was odd seeing him somewhere other than the street next to the orphanage, begging.

'Jorren?'

'You look,' he paused, struggling to stand before walking closer, 'terrible.'

'Where is this place?' he asked, more confused than ever.

Jorren sighed, supporting himself on his wooden crutches. 'It is the secret hideout of the Third Eye rebels.' The words hit him, remembering the times he'd complained to Jorren about rebels. He felt betrayed.

'So you are a rebel?' He asked, struggling to imagine the one-legged beggar as fighting the black guard.

'Yes,' Jorren replied calmly.

'H… How? You are just a beggar.' It was hard to replace the image. Were the rebels that weak?

'He is one of the most powerful Shadewrights you will ever meet,' a new voice said. Ashen's attention snapped to the doorway. He recognized the long cloak instantly. It was the man who had rescued him, the leader of the Third Eye rebels.

Immediately, Ashen sensed his aura, the overwhelming strength that intimidated. One could tell he was a powerful person who could defeat someone like Laenara. But looking at Jorren, Ashen still saw only a weak beggar.

'Kaelen, what are you doing here?' Jorren asked, surprised to see him. However, he ignored his question, his attention on Ashen. So the infamous rebel was called Kaelen? It sounded nothing like the man he was, it sounded too noble.

'You are awake, finally,' Kaelen said. He tossed a coin in the air, but just as it was about to fall, it stopped, floating. He turned with a grin. He was a handsome man in his middle years, tall and lean with hardened muscles, wearing only the coat and tattered pants. He looked even more of a beggar than Jorren, and yet, he exuded a more noble presence than Laenara.

'Where is Laenara?' Ashen asked, though he felt he knew the answer. He just wanted to hear she was dead, having paid for her atrocities.

'Dead.' The way he said it was casual, as if used to it. Ashen felt a small speck of satisfaction she was dead, even though he'd wanted to do it himself.

'What do you want?' Ashen demanded, knowing this man didn't save him for nothing.

'Let's discuss that later. For now, you need to rest, grieve…' Jorren stopped as Ashen glared at him.

'And then join you?' His voice was laced with venom and hatred, making the beggar lean away. Did he feel guilty? 'If what he says is true, that you are a powerful Shadewright, then why didn't you save us?'

The question hung heavy. Jorren looked away, avoiding his glare, silent.

'They slaughtered them with no mercy. Why didn't you save them?' Ashen pressed, but Jorren remained silent.

'His power is too dangerous. He might have killed all of you if he used it,' Kaelen stated. It felt like an excuse, angering Ashen further.

'I…' Jorren stopped. He turned and walked away, but not before Ashen had seen his teary eyes.

Silence fell, amplifying Ashen's guilt. Now alone with the rebel leader, the air thickened. The man managed a grin.

'It's not every day Jorren cries.' It was obvious Jorren had called him, saving his life and ensuring Laenara's death which he would thank him later. But at the same time, it made him suspiscious. If Jorren was a rebel, then what was he doing at the orphanage? However, before he could ask that question, he was hit by another from Kaelen.

'What happens now?'

'What?' Ashen asked, confused.

'What do you do now that the orphanage is gone?' The question caught him by surprise. The truth was, he had no idea. If the rebels had killed everyone involved, he couldn't focus on avenging the orphans. He had no purpose, he realized. He never really had, even before. Still, he wouldn't admit it to this rebel.

'I know you want me to join you, but I don't want to fight a pointless war,' he said.

The floating coin suddenly dropped. The leader's focus seemed affected, but he caught it before it hit the floor. He chuckled, amused. 'Why is it pointless?'

'Because the Empire is too powerful to be defeated by a small group of rebels.'

'Who said we were small?' He said it like a joke, but to Ashen, it wasn't. Maybe there was more to them.

'It doesn't matter. You, Jorren, and the others might be powerful, but it comes down to numbers. The Empire has hundreds of thousands of black guards, a powerful army, hundreds of Houses with their own forces who won't sit idle while rebels attack what benefits them. And even if you somehow defeat them, you still have to defeat an immortal being who defeated the great dark lord. You're fighting a losing battle, and I want no part of it.' Ashen laid out his argument, knowing it was sound. Yet the man smiled.

'Whatever you say is true, except one thing.' He tossed the coin again as mist gathered in his hands. Ashen expected it to float, but it suddenly shattered into thousands of particles, turning to silver dust. 'I will kill the eternal ruler.' He proclaimed.

Ashen would have laughed at anyone else. But the conviction in his voice, the sheer determination, silenced any mockery.

'So what? Your goal is to kill an immortal? Don't you hear the irony in that?' He began to chuckle but stopped cold under the leader's harsh glare. His goal was pure madness.

'You are right. The Empire is too big to fight conventionally. But if we cut off its head, the Empire dies with him.' He grinned, the depth of his ambition, or insanity, clear.

'That's impossible,' Ashen found himself saying.

'Nothing is impossible. Especially since we have a Child of Doom with us. With you by our side, you make the impossible become merely difficult.' He paused, letting the implication sink in, Ashen would never truly be free.

'I won't force you to fight as a reluctant weapon is a useless one. But,' his voice dropped, low and dangerous, 'you won't get rid of me.'

'Why? If I don't fight, then I have no benefit to you.' He was just beginning to realizing that he was never going to be free of Kaelen.

Kaelen was silent for a moment, as if deep in thought. He then sighed, letting out a cloud of mist. 'That's because I am your protector, and with your power awakened, everyone in the empire will be coming for you. And let me ask you, when the immortal emperor comes for you, what will you do? Or the Black Guard, or the powerful Lords of the great houses. You might hate the rebels, but trust me, I am your best shot of surviving.' With that, he turned and left, leaving Ashen deep in thought.

For the first time, he was coming to grasp the situation he was in. He was a child of doom, and even though he didn't understand what that meant at the moment, he knew he was too important and powerful for people to ignore.

Maybe the best place to be was among the rebels.