Chapter 3: Captured by the Reapers

Chapter 3: Captured By the Reapers

The forest was so dark that not even the faintest sliver of moonlight could pierce through. The canopy of trees was so dense that the forest floor was plunged into an almost tangible blackness. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, and the silence was only broken by the occasional rustle of unseen creatures and the cries of the prisoners walking through this darkness. They moved in a rhythmic order, carrying a heavy log of wood over their shoulders.

It was hard to decipher what they looked like, but upon closer inspection, one could see crimson eyes piercing into the heart of this darkness.

None of the prisoners had crimson eyes, so where did the eyes come from?

They belonged to their captors, a fearsome race that moved silently, their presence barely known apart from the faint whisper of their cloaks brushing against the foliage. Their features were obscured by deep hoods, and their eyes glowed a malevolent red, piercing the darkness like twin embers.

The Reapers were known for their cruelty, capturing those unfortunate enough to cross their path and binding them together with a log of wood, a cruel parody of order and control.

The captives huddled together, their bodies trembling not just from the cold but from the sheer terror of their captors. Bound together, they could do little more than shuffle awkwardly, their movements restricted by the crude bindings. The night air was filled with the sound of their ragged breathing and the occasional muffled sob.

One of the Reapers suddenly stopped moving. He pulled out a sword from his cloak and broke a prisoner free. The prisoner had been wailing loudly and pleading to be set free.

“Thank you... thank you,” he cried out and made to move.

But before he could take a step forward, his blood splashed on the faces of the other captives, and silence fell immediately.

They continued their journey through the heart of the darkness, the Reapers watching their captives closely. The prisoner who was beheaded had been number twelve.

Unbeknownst to the Reapers, he had been tied together with number eleven, thereby loosening his own binding to the wood.

Using the darkness to his advantage, the number eleven captive managed to set himself free and obscured himself in the darkness.

It didn't take long before a cry went up among the Reapers. Two of them broke out, their eyes glowing brighter as they moved in pursuit of the escapee. Their movements were swift and unnaturally graceful, a predatory elegance that belied their intent.

The escapee ran, the sounds of the forest closing in around him. He could hear the Reapers behind him, their movements disturbingly quiet but for the occasional crack of a twig or the swish of their cloaks. He pushed himself harder, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, his mind focused solely on escape.

The Reapers were relentless. They navigated the forest with an ease born of familiarity, their glowing eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. They communicated with each other through eerie whispers, coordinating their hunt.

The captive’s lungs burned, and his legs ached, but he couldn't afford to slow down. He knew that if he were caught, it would be a death sentence. The forest seemed to conspire against him, branches clawing at his clothes and roots tripping his feet. Yet he pressed on, driven by a primal will to survive.

In the distance, he could see a faint light—perhaps a clearing or a campsite. Hope surged within him, lending his tired limbs a burst of energy. Suddenly, darkness overshadowed this light, and the captive crashed into a hard surface.

He fell on his butt, his hands and feet numb. He raised his head and his eyes met with a pair of crimson glowing eyes. Fear gripped him instantly, he didn't expect another creature to be out here in the dark apart from the Reapers who are still behind him.

Before he could think, he felt himself being lifted off the ground.

“A wonderful meal,” he heard through gnashing teeth, and his heart started pounding. He had been running from the Reapers and now had fallen into the hands of a Trolloc.

A Trolloc which just broke free from the enchantment of an Elf. 

Stonetrum threw the escapee into the air and prepared to tear him apart, but a blade cut through his knee, causing him to groan in pain.

He looked up to see four crimson eyes dancing in the shadows. Gnashing his teeth angrily, he charged at the Reapers lurking in the shadows. 

Meanwhile, the captive fell hard on the ground and started rolling downhill.

Stonetrum grabbed a sword from one of the Reapers and flung it, along with the Reaper, into a tree. The second Reaper launched a direct attack at Stonetrum, who countered it with his fist. He sent a destructive punch that bent the sword and pushed the Reaper backward. 

The Reaper who had been flung into the tree got up angrily and dusted his cloak. Realizing this, Stonetrum quickly turned. He recalled how the Elf compelled him to kill all of his kindred. Angrily, he charged at the Reaper, launching a straight punch to his face.

“Valtrex Norazo!” the Reaper chanted, slashing his sword in the air. Stonetrum suddenly paused halfway and within seconds split into two, green blood spilling from his body.

Without wasting time, they surged forward, searching for their escapee.

Meanwhile, the captive was running as if his life depended on it. He looked back at intervals while running as fast as he could.

His legs collided with a stone for the umpteenth time, and he struggled not to fall flat but ended up going on all fours.

“Vagnar!” he heard a familiar voice and looked up, his eyes meeting blue shining eyes. He recognized those eyes instantly. Without wasting time, he got up with the help of the figure with the blue eyes.

“Lady Rose,” he called out in surprise. “What are you doing out here?” he asked uneasily. She could sense the uneasiness in his voice.

“What’s the matter?” Rose demanded, staring directly at Vagnar, who had once been a captive of the Reapers. He was breathing harshly.

The young man stood by the corner watching them, realizing they knew each other from their conversation.

He sensed movement behind him, but before he could turn, a hand wrapped around his mouth and nose. “Sleep!” a whispering voice commanded, and his consciousness shut down almost immediately.

Vagnar’s eyes met the Reaper’s, and he quickly pushed Rose away. Immediately, a blade drove into his chest, and he coughed out blood, dropping heavily to the ground.

Rose quickly got up and came face to face with the creature that had stabbed Vagnar. His crimson eyes pierced into her blue ones. “Aargh!” a gasp escaped her lips as she recognized the creature. It was a Reaper. The soldiers of the Loctrum clan. The servants of Arctic, the leader of the Loctrum clan.

The Loctrum clan were enemies of Elvarin Kingdom, the kingdom of the Elves from which she hailed. She looked back to see her companion in the hands of another Reaper. She was the only one left.

What was he going to do to her? Was he going to kill her?

While she was still contemplating what to do, she heard the voice of the Reaper and her heart skipped a beat.

“You're coming with us, My Lady.”

To be continued...