Chapter one

Epic 1

I awoke with a splitting headache and a raging fever. I had never experienced sickness like this before, and the intensity of my symptoms filled me with unease. As my mother entered the room with a bowl of water, her gentle touch on my cheek only served to heighten my fear. The fever hadn't broken, and she left to prepare some tea, her footsteps echoing down the hall. Just as I began to feel a sliver of relief, a gunshot rang out from the balcony, followed by the anguished howl of our dog.

Terror seized my body as I cowered beneath my bed, doing my best to muffle the sound of my terrified breathing. A noise from my window made my heart leap—someone was jumping in. I fought against the urge to cry out, familiar fear gripping my heart, and my thoughts racing a million miles a minute. Who was in my room? Were they armed? And what had happened to my mother?

"Some things are meant to be," the voice growled. "Life itself is unfair. Make sure no one is left... slaughter them all."

As the voice echoed through the room, I panicked under the bed. I could see their mud-soaked shoes and smell the scent of the mountain—they must have come from outside. My mother's terrified cries pierced my ears, and I watched in horror as the teacup slipped from her trembling hands and shattered on the floor.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as I listened to her anguished pleas. But in a heartbeat, everything changed. I heard the terrible crack of gunfire, and the room went silent. Trembling, I slowly peeked out from under the bed, my eyes drawn to the bloody crimson stain on the floor. My mother's lifeless body lay there, and the knowledge that she was gone hit me like a thunderbolt. I buried my face in my hands and wept, my sobs echoing in the room.

"Come on, you slum! You don't want to be caught, do you?" the voice yelled as I trembled by the window, watching them leave. I took a close look at the man's face. My eyes were already cloudy with tears, and I desperately wanted to see the face of the person who had taken my mother from me. Suddenly, a memory flashed before my eyes—a memory of my mother and me, laughing together in the kitchen as we cooked dinner. But the memory was shattered by the roar of the car's engine as the men drove away.

As the police pulled up to the house, I let out a low hiss, the fear sinking deeper into my chest with every passing moment. Before I knew it, the thought of my dad flashed into my mind. A flood of memories washed over me, each one more vivid than the last.

I raced to the living room, only to find my father's body sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by a pool of blood.

"Everybody freeze!" the tall, thin officer screamed, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the scene.

I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder and turned to face the officer. His face was calm and steady, but his eyes were full of concern. "Are you okay?" he whispered, the rough fabric of his gloves brushing against my skin. I could only manage a nod, as my eyes filled with tears, the dam finally breaking.

"We'll find them," the officer said softly, his voice full of resolve. His words offered a small glimmer of hope in the darkness that had engulfed my world, but the pain of my parents' loss was almost too much to bear. As the officers began their investigation, I was left to pick up the shattered pieces of my life, praying that justice would one day be served.

As the day wore on, the house was filled with various police forces, including members of the media. The head officer issued a command, his voice low and urgent. "Lock the house and make sure no one else enters, except for the Inspector General and his crew."

"What about the child?" Ken asked, glancing at Kyrian, who was already asleep.

"Bring him to the station. Let's head back to the office," the officer instructed, keeping his voice hushed.

Ken carefully lifted the little boy into his arms, shielding him from the chaos with a blanket. He navigated through the sea of reporters, avoiding the bright flashes of cameras and the incessant questions. Kyrian's face remained hidden, a small mercy in the midst of turmoil. Ken could sense the director's worried gaze upon him, the air thick with tension as everyone braced for what was to come.

While Ken was carrying out his duty, a news headline from The Sun newspaper caught his attention, detailing the tragic incident and Kyrian's status as the lone survivor.

"Guess we're late. The Sun newspaper has already published the story," Ken mumbled, hissing through clenched teeth. His heart ached with the weight of the tragedy.

"Bunch of dummies," he whispered, just as Kyrian began to stir. Ken knew that he would need to be strong for the young boy as they navigated the challenging days ahead. With a heavy heart, he vowed to protect Kyrian from the relentless media circus and the dark reality that awaited them both.

"Where are we going?" Kyrian asked, his voice trembling with anxiety. His face was etched with worry, his legs trembling uncontrollably.

"To a safe place," the director whispered, sparing Ken from his inner conflict. He had been pondering the best response to give the child.

Kyrian's eyes widened, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. "A safe place? What does that mean?" he inquired, his voice quivering. He scanned the car, taking in the grim expressions of the adults around him. The atmosphere inside the vehicle was heavy, weighed down by the collective fear and uncertainty. Kyrian's mind raced, desperately trying to comprehend the situation.

Ken met Kyrian's gaze, his expression softening with empathy. "It's okay," he reassured him gently. "We're going to take care of you."

The director nodded in agreement, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. But just as the reassurances began to sink in, the car came under attack.

"We need to jump!" the director yelled, grabbing Kyrian's hand. Kyrian's eyes widened in fear, but he followed the director's lead and scrambled towards the door. The landscape outside was a blur as the vehicle continued to hurtle forward. The director pushed open the door, and a gust of wind rushed in, whipping Kyrian's hair into his eyes.

Kyrian felt adrenaline surging through his veins, his heart racing in his chest. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The director gave him a quick, reassuring smile before they jumped together into the unknown.

The air whipped past them as they plummeted, the roar of the wind drowning out all other sounds. For a moment, Kyrian felt suspended in time, weightless and free. But then, the ground came rushing up to meet them. The impact was jarring, and Kyrian felt a searing pain shoot through his ankle. He attempted to stand, but his injured ankle gave way beneath him, sending him tumbling back to the ground.

The director, already on his feet, appeared pale and shaken. "Are you okay?" he asked urgently, rushing to Kyrian's side.

Kyrian nodded, gritting his teeth against the agony. "I'm fine," he lied, though his ankle throbbed mercilessly. The director helped him up, and Kyrian leaned on him for support, taking a few tentative steps. Every step sent a wave of pain through his leg, but he forced himself to keep going.

Just then, a terrifying noise came from the direction of the bus. They turned to see it careening towards them, completely out of control. "Run!" the director shouted, grabbing Kyrian's arm and pulling him along. They sprinted away from the bus, just as it went over the edge of a cliff and plunged into the ravine below.

A deafening crash echoed through the air, followed by an eerie silence. Kyrian and the director stood on the edge of the cliff, staring down at the mangled remains of the bus. The reality of what had just happened hit Kyrian like a ton of bricks. They had escaped certain death, but the danger was far from over. With his injured ankle and the unknown threats that lay ahead, the road to safety seemed more treacherous than ever.