Millie left without a grand farewell, her departure as subtle as a shadow fading at dawn. There were no words of gratitude or promises of return, only the lingering aroma of woodsmoke and the resonating echoes of the hard-learned lessons imparted and absorbed.
In the silence of her absence, the camp became a somber place. The children, once animated and lively, now moved through their drills with a grim determination that masked a diminished spirit. Peter, usually full of energy and quick-witted, seemed to struggle. Tasks that once came naturally now felt cumbersome, and the melodies he played on his flute were not the cheerful tunes of old but rather mournful strains that seemed to echo the sorrow of the wind.
Ethan and Ben, two children engaged in a friendly competition, used simple twigs as swords to determine the best swordsman among them and Will was the j
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The rain hammered down relentlessly, as if the whole forest wept with them. Millie stood unmoving, Peter's words echoing in her skull like cannon fire after the battle. Love. Impossible. A luxury she didn't deserve—a poisoned apple from a fairy tale peddler. Yet a treacherous flicker of something unfamiliar tugged at her heart."You don't…have to," she finally managed, her voice rough as the storm above. "Don't need to pity a…" The word, 'whore,' choked in her throat.With a blazing gaze, not driven by anger but by a scorching honesty, Peter questioned, "Pity?" Raindrops, mingling with the grime on his face, portrayed a mix of wildness and determination. "Do you perceive this as a mere game, designed to assuage the bleeding heart of the Pied Piper?"In that dimly lit, rain-blurred world, his appr
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A heartbeat of silence stretched between them, the fading crackle of the dying fire echoing the thrum of Millie's pulse in her ears. Peter sat across from her, his gaze fixed on the embers, where orange flickered and faded, a mirror of his own tumultuous soul."Me?" A self-deprecating laugh rumbled in his throat. "The piper with the broken melody and the heart full of holes? I've made my fair share of mistakes, Millie. Trusted the wrong smiles, chased the wrong promises." A flicker of something dark—a remembered pain—passed through his eyes. "Betrayal…That's a wound that cuts deep and leaves you...hollow inside."The confession wasn't pity, but a laying bare of his own scars. He was no saviour, no knight in shining armour. Just a man, like her, battered by the storm, yet clinging to some defiant fragment of hope.Before the corrupt-hearted King Zagan ascended to the throne and tightened his iron grip on the cities, Peter revealed to Millie that he hailed from the kingdom of Hamelin. Re
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The silence between them was suffocating. It stretched on, broken only by the faint crackling of the fire that flickered weakly, its embers slowly dying as if in sync with the fading warmth of the evening. The forest beyond their small circle of firelight stood still, an audience to the storm brewing between them. The trees, tall and ancient, loomed like silent sentinels, their branches dripping with rain, heavy and slick. The air was damp, cool, and filled with the scent of wet earth and moss. Shadows danced and twisted in the dim light, and the occasional gust of wind sent the dying flames flickering in defiance.Peter’s chest tightened, his breath shallow as he watched Millie absorb the weight of his confession. He had expected many things—anger, disbelief, maybe even derision—but what came was far worse. A quiet, impenetrable stillness took root in her gaze. The light from the fire danced across her face, casting shadows beneath her eyes, sharpening the lines of exhaustion etched d
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Crimson Flags & Razor Blades Ghosts on the Wind
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