Seeds of Hope

Roman's mind spun wildly. He felt an intense pull to be honest with Seth, as though some invisible force was urging him to reveal everything. He struggled against it, the rational part of his mind screaming to keep his secrets hidden. He barely knew these people, after all!

Trust. The word echoed in his mind again, and the tug became almost unbearable. With a sigh, Roman looked into Seth’s eyes, searching for any sign of deceit.

“I need to tell you something, Seth. Can I trust you with a secret?” Roman asked, his voice steady but his heart pounding.

“Of course,” Seth replied, sincerity etched on his face. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but I feel like I can trust you completely. It’s almost like fate brought us together, like you were meant to be here.”

Roman swallowed hard. The thought had crossed his mind too—some unseen hand guiding his every move, but for what purpose? Before he could respond, a voice interrupted them.

“Do you mind if we join?” Roman’s head snapped up. A man stood just a few feet away, a twisted grin on his face. Roman hadn't heard a thing—not a single footstep. He jumped to his feet, mirroring Seth, but before they could react, a sword was at each of their throats.

“Don’t even think about it,” the man sneered, his foul breath washing over them. He stepped closer, and Roman gagged at the rancid stench emanating from him—a putrid mix of sweat, urine, and decay.

“Damn, dude, ever heard of soap?” Roman muttered, recoiling.

“Shut up!” the man growled, swinging a fist into Roman’s face.

“Roman!” Seth shouted, stepping forward, but his movement was halted as the sword at his neck bit into his skin, drawing a thin line of blood.

“Stay put and shut up!” the man barked. He turned to his companions, a cruel grin spreading across his face. “We’ll take your gold, have some fun with your women, and be on our way.”

Roman’s stomach churned with rage as he watched four more men drag Jessika and Lexi toward the campfire. Z was on the ground, two more thugs pinning him down as he struggled violently.

“Don’t you dare touch them!” Z roared, his voice thick with desperation. One of the attackers laughed and tore at Jessika’s dress. Z surged up with a roar, knocking one of his captors aside and tackling another. He landed a few solid punches before being struck from behind. He fell to the ground, limp, and the men quickly bound him.

“Get these two tied up as well, and bring that one over here!” the leader commanded, glancing around nervously. “We need to finish before the rest of the army catches up.”

Army? Roman’s mind raced. “Who are you? What do you want?” he spat, his voice strained as he struggled against the thug holding him down.

“Shut up!” the man barked, stomping on Roman’s back and shoving his face into the dirt. Roman could no longer see what was happening, but the sounds of Jessika and Lexi screaming as their clothes were ripped away filled his ears. Rage and fear twisted inside him, his heart pounding like a war drum.

No. Not like this. Roman’s breathing grew rapid, his vision narrowing. A surge of anger and despair twisted in his chest, and suddenly, he wasn’t in the forest anymore. He was back on Earth, reliving the darkest night of his life.

The scene shifted around him, the smells of pine and fire replaced by the acrid stench of asphalt and gunpowder. He was back in that grimy alleyway, his body pinned to the cold, wet ground. His limbs felt leaden, useless, the throbbing pain in his chest making it hard to breathe.

“Please, just let her go!” he had screamed, his voice hoarse with desperation. His eyes were locked on her, on his girlfriend, Jamie, her body trembling as she was held down by two men. Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes wide with terror. He had fought so hard to reach her, his muscles straining against the unseen force that kept him pinned. But it was no use.

“Shut up!” one of the men had barked, his voice rough and filled with a cruel pleasure. He struck Roman across the face with his pistol, and Roman’s head snapped to the side, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth.

“Jamie, I’m so sorry,” he had whispered, his voice breaking. He had felt so powerless, so utterly helpless. All he could do was watch as they assaulted her, their laughter echoing through the narrow alley, drowning out her sobs.

He had begged, pleaded, screamed until his throat was raw, but they hadn’t listened. They had stripped away every shred of dignity, every ounce of hope. And he had been forced to watch, every second of it burning itself into his memory like a brand.

Then came the gunshots. He still remembered the sickening sound of the bullets ripping through her body, the way she had crumpled to the ground, her eyes losing their light as her blood pooled around her. He had screamed her name, his voice a raw, broken thing, but she was already gone.

His heart had shattered in that moment. He didn’t remember the next few seconds clearly—only flashes of pain, the sound of his own scream echoing in his ears as a bullet tore through his spine. The world had gone black, and when he woke up, he was paralyzed from the waist down, lying in a sterile hospital room.

Jamie was dead, and he had been left behind, broken and alone, trapped in a body that no longer obeyed his will. He had wanted to die then, to follow her into whatever lay beyond. But he hadn’t been given that mercy.

The memory of that night had haunted him ever since, the pain and rage festering in the darkest corners of his soul. He had buried it deep, hidden it behind a facade of strength and determination. But now, here in this alien world, faced with a group of men trying to hurt the only people who had shown him kindness, it all came rushing back.

No. Not like this. The words echoed in his mind, and something snapped. He couldn’t let it happen again. He wouldn’t be helpless this time.

He was back in the forest, the sights and sounds of the camp flooding his senses. The air was thick with the smell of pine and sweat, the crackling of the fire mingling with the cruel laughter of the men. Jessika’s scream cut through the haze like a knife, sharp and piercing.

Roman felt the rage rise within him, a tidal wave of fury and despair that threatened to drown him. But this time, it wasn’t paralyzing. It was empowering. He felt his muscles tense, his senses sharpen, every fiber of his being humming with energy.

The ropes binding his hands snapped like dry twigs as he surged to his feet. The thug standing over him barely had time to react before Roman’s fist connected with his jaw in a devastating uppercut. He felt the bones shatter beneath his knuckles, the man’s head snapping back with a sickening crunch. The spray of blood felt almost surreal, and the camp fell silent as everyone turned to look.

But Roman didn’t care. He was beyond caring. He moved like a force of nature, his body a blur as he crossed the camp in a single step. His hand closed around the throat of the man assaulting Jessika, and he hurled him away like a rag doll. The thug hit the ground hard, his windpipe crushed, his body twitching as he gasped for air.

The world was reduced to a series of disjointed images: the flash of his sword as it materialized in his hand, the terrified look on the face of the man standing over Lexi, the way the blade slid through flesh and bone like it was nothing. He barely registered the warm blood splattering across his face, his body moving on instinct.

He was everywhere and nowhere, his movements so fast that it seemed as though he was teleporting, appearing in one spot, then another. The attackers had no chance. He cut them down, one after another, the rage in his chest like a fire that wouldn’t be quenched until they were all dead.

Not like this. The memory of Jamie’s broken body, the sound of her final breath echoed in his mind. He couldn’t save her then, but he could save them now. Each blow, each swing of his sword, was fueled by that memory, by the promise he had made to himself to never be powerless again.

He didn’t stop until the last man lay dead at his feet. The camp was a scene of carnage, bodies strewn about like discarded toys, the ground slick with blood. Roman stood amidst the chaos, his chest heaving, his vision blurred with tears and rage.

But then he saw Lexi, huddled on the ground, her body trembling. And the look on her face—it was fear. Not of the men who had attacked them, but of him. She was afraid of him.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. The fire in his veins died, leaving only a cold, empty void. His sword slipped from his fingers, clattering to the ground. He took a step back, then another, his heart hammering in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t be this person. The rage, the violence—it had consumed him. He looked down at his hands, stained red with blood, and felt sick. This wasn’t what Jamie would have wanted. This wasn’t what he wanted.

He stumbled backward, his vision swimming. The forest seemed to close in around him, the trees towering like silent sentinels, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. He needed to get away, to escape this nightmare.

He turned and—Step.

50 Miles from Eidon

The commander stood on a rise, looking back toward the smoldering ruins of the city they had just left. His heart ached with rage at the senseless destruction. Innocent lives had been snuffed out, and they had heard nothing—no warnings, no rumors. How had they been so blind?

He clenched his fists, the leather of his gloves creaking under the strain as his nails bit into his palms. Blood dripped from his fingers, but he didn’t notice. He had sworn an oath to protect his people, and he had failed.

“Sir, we’ve returned,” a voice called out, drawing his attention. The scouting party he had sent into the Merkwood Forest approached, their faces grim. Behind them, he saw four figures, their armor dirty and bloodied, their expressions hollow. The commander’s eyes narrowed as he took in their condition. The tall, broad-shouldered man with the shield must have been their frontline, bearing the brunt of the fight to protect the others.

“Who are you, and what happened?” the commander demanded, his voice harsh. His gaze lingered on one of them, recognition flashing in his eyes. He looked away quickly when the man gave a slight shake of his head. What are you involved in? he wondered. This could complicate things far more than he had anticipated.

“Good day, Commander. My name is Jessika,” the blonde girl said, stepping forward. “This is Seth, Z, and Lexi. We were training in the forest when we were attacked by a group of men. There was another with us, a man named Roman. He saved us but… he left after.”

The commander studied them intently. They looked battered but resilient. There was strength in their stances, experience in their eyes. They weren’t mere novices. Jessika’s posture, the way she held herself, suggested she was more than capable despite her lack of visible weapons. The archer, Lexi, moved with the grace of a predator, her dark leather armor blending into the surroundings.

"Good day, Commander, we were out here to train. My name is Jessika, this is Seth, Z, and Lexi. There was one more that we met a couple of days ago but he ran off after protecting us from a group of men trying to attack us in the night." The blonde girl says, Commander Athel looked at her intently. She called him Seth so she obviously had no clue who he actually was either. He looked at the rest of the group, they had good armor, seemed to hold themselves like fighters so they weren't newbies. The blonde was on the shorter side but there was something about her that made you want to avoid fighting her and she had no visible weapons either...must be a caster. He looked to the other girl, archer, she was tall and lithe, dark green and black leather armor and even her hair was a dark brown. She would blend into the woods with ease. The big guy was the front line for sure. Ful plate armor, giant shield and sword, black hair and bright observant blue eyes....then there was Seth...like a shadow itself, the ultimate rogue, which from his family wasn't entirely a good thing.

"You were attacked? By who? Where are they now?" He asked.

"Dead, the guy we met yesterday, Roman, killed them all after they tried to..." Jessika cut off, unable to finish her sentence but he was able to connect the dots. group of bandits come across a small group, overpowered them and they happened to have two pretty ladies there...unfortunately wasn't a rare occurrence. When might makes right, justice and honor usually are hard found.

"How many men were there?" He asked on.

"Ten." Seth said and then quickly added. "He took them all out with only a few strikes while the rest of us were tied up. He brought his bindings and attacked them. He was terrifying and fast, we couldn't even follow his movements."

"I see." The commander said. To be able to take on ten men on his own was impressive. But why run away after? "Have you seen any signs of the bandits or this Roman anywhere else?" He asked.

"I don't think they were bandits. I heard them mention an army. I think they are what happened to Eidon. They must have been a scouting party." Z stepped forward and answered.

"So it begins." The commander mumbled to himself. "We will head back to the capital and I will let them know what happened. If there is an army that destroyed a city that is a force to be reckoned with. Lindt, form a portal for these folks! Rest of you! Head to Kenan and wait for me there. Smithson, you're in charge until my return. Move." He ordered and everyone burst into activity. A bright blue portal appeared and without even turning to tell them to follow, the commander stepped through.