Trials Of Life

Chapter 15: The Viper’s Bite

Since obtaining her horse, nearly an hour had passed, and Yumiko had pushed the poor animal to its limits. The rhythm of hooves echoed against the ground as she tore through the smoky, dark forest, the air thick with ash and the scent of burning wood. Her eyes stung from the acrid haze, the pain sharpening the further she rode toward the blazing town. Desperation filled her as she scanned the shadowy woods, searching for any sign of Lukas. But the trees were silent, offering no clues to his whereabouts.

A chill ran down her spine as a single drop of rain fell onto her cheek. She glanced up, seeing the storm clouds churning above, mixing with the billowing smoke from the distant city. It would rain soon, she needed to hurry.

Yumiko gritted her teeth and urged the horse onward, deftly weaving through the dense trees. But then, something caught her eye—figures lying sprawled on the ground, lifeless. She slowed the horse, her pulse quickening. Bandits. They had the unmistakable look of marauders, and she recognized the deadly precision in their wounds. This was Lukas’ work. He was leading her to him, though he had no idea.

From the corner of her eye, something flickered—a glint of light hurtling through the air toward her. Her instincts screamed, and she ducked just in time, narrowly dodging a blast of water that crashed into a tree behind her with a violent splash, cracking the bark. Her heart raced as she pulled the reins, spinning around to see her attacker. A bandit, his hand outstretched, was already conjuring another ball of water, eyes locked on her as he aimed to knock her from the saddle.

There wasn’t enough time to summon her bow.

The next magical strike surged toward her. In a split second, Yumiko leaped from the horse, grasping a low-hanging branch and hauling herself up into the trees just as the waterball exploded where she had been sitting. The bandit let out a triumphant shout, raising his arms in victory.

"Ha! Got 'em!" he yelled, savoring his moment of glory.

But his celebration was short-lived. From the treeline, a swift arrow cut through the air and embedded itself into his throat. He gurgled once, then collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

Yumiko, perched silently above with her bow now in hand, let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. "That was too close," she muttered, her gaze trailing after her horse as it bolted deeper into the forest, now lost to her. Shaking her head, she turned her focus back to the task at hand. The burning town lay just ahead.

With a fluid motion, she dropped from the tree, landing gracefully on the forest floor. Without hesitation, she sprinted toward the town, her legs carrying her faster with each step.

“Hurry,” came the angelic voice, a soft but urgent whisper in her ear.

“I am!” Yumiko snapped, dismissing her bow in a flicker of light as she ran harder, her breaths coming in short gasps.

“He will die,” the voice warned again, this time edged with panic, the weight of those words pressing down on her like the storm clouds above.

"Die?" Yumiko shouted, her voice cracking through the smoky haze as she sprinted through the forest. The bodies of fallen bandits, left in Lukas’ wake, littered the ground like breadcrumbs leading her forward. Every step felt heavier, her muscles burning from the relentless pace, but she couldn't lighten up.

“There is someone he’s not supposed to meet yet,” the voice spoke, ethereal and calm despite the urgency. “He is a man that leads a group of bandits. He has curly, unkempt hair, a beard, and wields a sword unlike any other. He’s extremely dangerous, brave one. The first moment you see him, you must run.”

The description painted a vivid image in Yumiko’s mind as sweat rolled down her forehead, mingling with the soft rain. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, but she nodded grimly. The voice’s warnings carried weight. Yumiko took the warnings well, especially after her dream encounter in hell.

“Lukas will try to face him,” the voice continued, a tinge of desperation creeping in. “But his arm… it hasn’t healed from his last magic attack. If he presses on and challenges that bandit leader, he will die. You must stop him before it’s too late!” She said, as if it was set in stone.

Yumiko clenched her jaw, her teeth grinding as she pushed her legs even harder, the muscles protesting with every stride. “I knew his arm wasn’t good!” she yelled into the wind, frustration boiling over as the rain began to fall more steadily, the soft drizzle hissing against the flames that had ravaged the distant town of Torrwr.

The smell of burning wood and wet ash filled the air, and through the thickening rain, Yumiko’s sharp eyes caught a flicker of movement. There—just beyond the smoky veil. A lone figure on horseback. It was Lukas.

Relief surged through her, though it was short-lived. She watched as he dismounted his exhausted horse at the town’s edge, the poor animal barely able to stand after the hard ride. Lukas strode toward the perimeter of the city, his posture stiff, determination evident in every step.

Yumiko’s heart raced faster, fear gripping her tightly. The angelic voice had been right. If she didn’t reach him in time, if she didn’t stop him, Lukas would face that bandit leader with his injuries and seal his own fate.

“Hurry,” the voice whispered again, its urgency matching the storm building overhead.

Yumiko didn’t need the reminder. She had no time to lose

In case there were still more bandits, she did not want to reveal herself, not yet. Yumiko darted from tree to tree, her movements as silent as a whisper as she made it to the outskirts of the town. The trees that encircled the city offered some cover, but she remained cautious, unwilling to approach any closer. “I need him to get out of here… to avoid that bandit lord…” she murmured, repeating the voice’s warning and plea.

Eventually, Lukas came to a halt in the middle of the road. His boots crunched against the gravel and mud as he surveyed the scene, his sharp gaze sweeping over the corpses of the townsfolk scattered around him. The focused intensity in his eyes made Yumiko’s heart race, her breath catching as she took in the sheer number of dead.

Yumiko crouched behind a sprawling oak, its wide trunk offering her a sanctuary from both sight and sound. She peered cautiously around the tree, her pulse quickening as she watched Lukas, seemingly unfazed, flip over corpses one by one, inspecting them with a casual expression. It was as if the bodies didn’t disturb him at all.

"Does he want to be seen and killed?" she whispered, a shiver of unease crawling down her spine. "This is my moment. I need to stop him, regardless if there are any more bandits inside or if he gets upset—"

A sudden rustle in the underbrush behind her shattered the fragile silence. Her hand flew instinctively to the kunai knife tucked in her waistband, fingers curling around the hilt. Her heart pounded in her chest, the sound echoing in her ears, each beat a thunderous drum that threatened to betray her position. The bushes trembled again, more violently this time.

Was it another bandit lackey? Or worse, had the bandit lord already found her?

Yumiko’s muscles coiled, every fiber of her body prepared to spring into action. Her eyes narrowed as she focused on the shaking foliage, ready to strike. Seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity until, with a sudden burst, a small raccoon darted out from the underbrush. Its wide, startled eyes met hers for just a moment before it scurried back into the safety of the shadows, no doubt spooked by the fires and chaos.

She exhaled slowly, the tension leaving her body as her grip on the kunai loosened, though she didn’t fully release it. The immediate danger had passed, but the air remained thick with unease, and Yumiko knew she couldn't let her guard down.

A quiet sigh of relief escaped her lips as she turned her attention back toward the town. But her comfort was short-lived—Lukas was gone.

“Where did he go?” she muttered, her eyes scanning the empty street frantically. Panic set in for a moment before she forced herself to stay calm. He couldn’t have gone far.

Though she didn’t want to risk being seen by more bandits, her mission was clear: stop Lukas. Decision made, Yumiko sprang from the cover of the trees. She darted down the main street of the town, hiding behind scattered debris and half-collapsed walls, her senses on high alert for any other attackers who might still be lurking.

But the town was eerily silent. The only sounds were that of the soft crackle of dying flames and the gentle patter of rain on the charred remains of homes. Smoldering fires hissed under the weight of the drizzle, casting thin trails of smoke into the already darkened sky.

Yumiko pressed forward, her pulse pounding in her ears as she searched desperately for any sign of Lukas. The race against time had begun.

Yumiko concealed herself behind a large crate, haphazardly overturned beside a dilapidated building. She crouched low, her breath shallow, listening for any signs of movement in the quiet town. When all remained still, she cautiously emerged from her hiding spot. But as her foot caught on something, she stumbled, her balance momentarily lost. She turned quickly, her pulse quickening, to see what had tripped her—and froze.

A dead man lay face-up, his lifeless eyes staring blankly at the dark, overcast sky. His arm was outstretched, fingers curled as though grasping for something just beyond reach. Yumiko’s gaze lingered on the man, her mind racing with questions. There were no visible wounds, no blood, no sign of what had taken his life. It was as though he had simply collapsed and died where he laid.

Kneeling beside the body, she inspected him closely, her hands hovering over his still form. Nothing made sense. How had he died without a mark? Her brows furrowed as she considered the possibilities, but she couldn’t afford to dwell on it. Time was slipping away.

With a sharp intake of breath, Yumiko straightened, her focus returning to the task at hand. Stopping Lukas was her priority. The man’s death would have to remain a mystery for now. She clasped her hands together and bowed her head slightly, murmuring a quiet prayer. “May the goddess of wind carry your soul.”

Rising swiftly, her will renewed, Yumiko moved away from the corpse, maneuvering through the narrow alleyways lined with the charred remains of once-standing homes. The rain continued its steady drizzle, casting a dim gray haze over the town, muffling the faint crackle of embers. As she rounded the corner of a burned building, her sharp eyes caught sight of movement in the middle of the street—Lukas.

He was crouched low, his back turned to her, and he appeared to be holding something. Narrowing her eyes, Yumiko strained to see what it was. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized it was a small boy cradled in Lukas’ arms. The child’s fragile body trembled, clearly in distress, and his breathing looked labored.

Without a second thought, Yumiko threw caution to the wind. She sprinted from her cover, her sole focus on the suffering boy. Her hands fumbled through her satchel as she ran, searching for anything that might help—her mind raced with what supplies she had left. She couldn’t let the boy die.

Lukas, sensing the sudden movement, looked up sharply, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his blade. His eyes widened in shock as he saw Yumiko rushing toward him. “What are you doing here?” he shouted, his voice sharp with fury. The boy in his arms flinched, startled by the outburst.

Rage flared in Lukas’ eyes as he stood, still holding the child. His posture was tense, his jaw clenched in anger. “What did I say before?” he demanded, his voice rising as he glared at her, disbelief and frustration etched across his face. "I told you not to follow me!"

"I’ve come to stop you. And besides, he needs our help!" Yumiko insisted, dropping to her knees beside the boy. Her voice wavered with urgency as her eyes scanned the child’s fragile form. He couldn’t have been more than twelve years old, yet his body bore the signs of terrible suffering.

Yumiko’s heart clenched at the sight. His face, arms, and legs were scarred with deep burn marks, and blood oozed from a gash on his head, likely the result of a heavy blow. The boy’s burns were severe, his skin blistered and raw, and his limbs were marred with visible injuries that spoke of immense pain. Each shallow breath he took seemed like a struggle, his small body a tragic display of agony. She pressed her lips together. She had to help him, no matter what.

Lukas glanced down at the boy, his anger toward Yumiko momentarily forgotten. Without a word, he uncapped his canteen, gently tilting the bottle to let the cool water trickle over the boy’s forehead, washing away the grime and blood. His irritation simmered just beneath the surface, but his focus remained on the boy's immediate needs.

"Do you have healing magic?" Lukas asked gruffly, capping the canteen once more, his gaze not leaving the child’s face.

"Yes, I have some experience with healing magic! I’ll give it everything I’ve got!" Yumiko’s voice brimmed with determination. She hovered her trembling hand over the boy's chest and began to chant softly, her breath steadying as she called upon the magic within her. "Oh goddess of life, goddess of healing, please grant me a blessing. Please allow me to heal my injured friends and family. Heal!"

A soft green light began to glow from her hand, growing stronger with each passing moment. The soothing aura spread over the boy's body, enveloping him in its warmth, the gentle glow pulsating with the rhythm of Yumiko’s incantation. She leaned in closer, watching intently, her eyes searching for any sign of improvement—anything that could signal his recovery.

But as the seconds stretched on, nothing changed. The boy's breathing remained labored, his injuries untouched by the magic. A sense of dread crept into her chest. She gritted her teeth and poured more magic into the spell, trying to make it work. The light from her hand flared, growing almost blinding as she strained to push beyond her limits.

Suddenly, the magic twisted.

Without warning, the spell backfired. A shockwave of raw, untamed energy exploded from her hand, sending Yumiko flying backward. She hit the wet ground with a thud, her body skidding slightly as the rain-soaked earth cushioned her fall.

Yumiko lay there for a moment, stunned, the damp chill of the ground seeping through her clothes. Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath, her heart pounding with frustration.

Lukas shook his head, "Our magic isn't strong enough," he muttered, his voice laced with concern. "You were just spellbound. His body rejected the magic. If you keep pushing, you could die—and worse, you might end up killing him too."

Yumiko didn’t reply immediately. She shook her head, slowly rolling back up from the ground, the dampness of the rain clinging to her clothes. Without a word, she began to rummage through her bag, her hands moving with increasing desperation as she searched. Her brow furrowed in frustration as confusion clouded her thoughts. "I swear I had two potions in my bag..." she muttered under her breath, pulling out various items one by one in a hurried frenzy. "Where are they—"

Her voice trailed off as the realization hit her, and her movements stilled. The frantic energy drained from her as sadness filled her eyes. She remembered now—she had given the potions away. Back on the carriage, to the Jinsoku father and his sick daughter. Her decision had been made in kindness, but now it left her with nothing.

Panic crept into her voice as she whispered, "I gave them away." Her eyes shimmered with slight regret, her shoulders slumping. "I thought they needed them more at the time." She paused, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched the now-empty bag, as if hoping she might somehow will the potions back into existence.

Lukas continued holding the boy, his fingers brushing lightly against the child’s hair. The boy’s skin was feverish, his breath rattling in his chest with every strained gasp. His body convulsed slightly as he choked and coughed, the sound raw and weak. Lukas looked into the boy's eyes and saw the flicker of desperation, the small light of life fading fast.

"You should leave," Lukas said quietly, though his words were firm. "This is not something you should see. You won’t be able to handle what happens next."

Yumiko’s eyes narrowed, her gaze sharpening as his words registered. She rose to her feet, her eyes darting toward Lukas’ sword, which hung at his side, its polished steel gleaming in the faint light of the smoldering fires around them.

"And why’s that?" she asked, her voice low with suspicion. "You’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do, are you?" She could see the tension in his stance, the way his hand hovered near the hilt of his blade. The thought of what he might be planning sent a chill down her spine.

Lukas remained silent, his face expressionless as he gently placed the boy's head back on the ground. Yumiko opened her mouth to protest, words of defiance already forming on her lips. But before she could speak, something glimmered at the far side of the road, catching her attention and pulling her focus away from Lukas.

In the moonlight, something shimmered—a faint glint of glass. Her heart leapt with hope. Could it be? She squinted, her pulse quickening. If her eyes weren't playing tricks on her, it looked like a healing potion. Without hesitation, she bolted toward it.

Arriving at the spot, Yumiko dropped to her knees, her fingers reaching for the small vial half-buried in the mud. Her heart pounded in her chest as she held it up to the light. It was indeed a potion, the unmistakable red liquid swirling inside the glass—a color that signified healing. Relief washed over her. The townsfolk must have dropped it in their panic, fleeing the destruction.

Yumiko waved the glass vial in the air as she approached, her voice filled with urgency. "Look! This was just lying out on the road!" She slid onto the ground beside the boy, mud splattering her clothes, but she didn’t care. Every second mattered now. With quick, practiced movements, she uncorked the bottle. Her hands were steady as she prepared to lift the vial to the boy's lips.

But before the potion could reach the boy, Lukas' hand shot out like lightning, slapping the bottle from her grasp. The vial tumbled through the air, crashing to the ground and rolling away. The red liquid spilled into the dirt, mixing with the mud and blood. Yumiko stared in disbelief, her breath catching in her throat.

Her eyes blazed with fury as she whipped around to face Lukas. "What are you doing?" she yelled, her voice trembling with anger. Her fists clenched at her sides, the frustration boiling over. That potion had been their last chance.

"Saving him from more suffering," Lukas replied, his voice calm and unwavering. His eyes didn’t waver as he watched the potion’s contents seep into the earth.

Yumiko's outrage only grew. "What?" she shouted, her voice echoing off the ruined buildings. "That was a healing potion! Didn’t you see the color? It could have saved him!" She pointed furiously at the now-nearly empty bottle, her chest heaving with frustration.

Lukas walked over to the fallen vial and picked it up, turning it over in his hands. He held it up for her to see, his eyes narrowing. "No," he said firmly, holding the bottle out toward her. "It’s poison."

Yumiko froze, her breath catching in her throat as her mind struggled to process his words. Poison? How could that be? She stared at the vial in his hands. Doubt crept in, followed by a wave of nausea.

Yumiko shook her head, her frustration mounting as she met Lukas’s unwavering gaze. "Again, the bottle and color suggest otherwise," she insisted. "Healing potions are red, and the bottle was sealed. Why would there be a random bottle of poison just lying around?"

"There are many reasons," Lukas replied, his tone calm but firm as his eyes scanned the ground thoughtfully. "I don't know why someone would be carrying this, but there's always a reason for everything."

Without wasting time, Lukas searched for a way to demonstrate his point. His sharp gaze fell on a small leaf nearby, and he bent down to pluck it from the ground. He then stuffed it into the bottle of the supposed healing potion. Spotting the cork lying close by, he grabbed it, sealing the vial tightly before shaking it vigorously.

Holding the container up in front of Yumiko, he explained, "Healing potions are red, but they're also bright in color and sparkle." He shook the bottle once more, pointing to the liquid inside. As they both watched, the leaf began to shrivel rapidly, wilting as though drained of life.

"This color is dull, with no sparkle at all," Lukas continued, his voice steady but edged with urgency. "And the hue—it's darker than typical healing potions." He held the bottle closer to her, allowing her to witness the leaf browning, shriveling until it was nothing more than a brittle remnant of its former self.

Yumiko's eyes widened as she watched the leaf disappear inside the vial. She glanced at Lukas, her disbelief softening into reluctant understanding. "You knew all that just by glancing at it?" she asked, reaching out to grab the bottle from his hand, inspecting the poison for herself.

Lukas shrugged, though his expression remained serious. "I learned this from someone important to me," he replied, his voice softening for just a moment. "When you drink these things hundreds—maybe even thousands of times a year—you start to notice the small details. Eventually, it becomes second nature."

Yumiko fell silent, the weight of the situation sinking deep into her heart. Tears began to form in her eyes, blurring her vision as she clasped the bottle tightly in her hands. The realization that neither her magic nor the potion could save the boy hit her like a crushing wave.

In her native tongue, she whispered, "What am I to do, goddess of wind?" Her voice trembled with desperation and sorrow, seeking guidance from the deity she had always trusted in moments of need. The moonlight reflected off her tear-streaked face, mingling with the rain as she knelt beside the boy, utterly helpless in the face of his suffering.

Lukas watched as the boy, wracked with pain, tried to roll over, his body contorting in agony. Concern flickered in Lukas’s eyes, and he knelt beside the child, his voice gentle but firm. "Don’t move," he instructed, though his words were laced with empathy.

Despite Lukas’s plea, the boy continued to squirm, his small, fragile frame resisting the torment of his injuries. With great effort, he managed to slide his hand behind his back, revealing a small, bloodstained vial—another healing potion.

Lukas’s eyes widened in shock as he saw the boy, even in his critical condition, gripping the vial tightly in his damaged hand. Blood smeared the glass, his fingers trembling as he tried to offer it up. The sight was both surprising and heartbreaking.

As Lukas carefully took the vial from the boy’s grasp, he noted the grim truth of the child’s condition: not only was he suffering from the burns and wounds across his front, but his back was equally as mangled, a detail that had gone unnoticed until now.

The child’s resolve, his quiet strength in the face of such overwhelming pain, stirred something within Lukas. His hardened expression softened as he stared down at the boy, a mixture of admiration and sorrow.

Yumiko watched in disbelief as the boy shakily held the potion up for her and Lukas to see. Baffled by the child’s actions, she crawled forward, her heart pounding in panic. “Why were you hiding that?” she asked, her voice urgent as she leaned next to him. “We can use it on you!” She reached out for the healing potion, her hands trembling with desperation.

But the boy pulled it away, clutching the vial tightly in his hand, shaking his head with a weak determination. Slowly, he lifted his arm and pointed down the rain-soaked street. His voice, strained and broken, was barely audible. "S-sister… Save… Potion… Please… House… red door…" Each word came with a gasp of pain, his small frame trembling with the effort it took to speak. Tears streamed down his dirt-streaked cheeks, mingling with the rain and falling into the mud beneath him. There was sorrow in his eyes—sorrow that he couldn’t protect his family. More than anything, fear gripped him. The fear of dying.

Yumiko’s heart shattered at the sight of the boy’s tears. He was so young, and yet here he was, begging them to save his sister, to take the only hope of healing away from him. The reality of the situation overwhelmed her. "We have to help him," she whispered, her voice breaking, unsure of what to do.

Lukas, however, remained focused, though his gaze softened. He leaned closer to the boy, his expression serious but gentle. “Who did this to you?” he asked, referring to the deep wound on the boy’s back.

The boy’s eyes fluttered as he tried to stay awake, his voice barely above a whisper. “S-scary man… Messy hair… W-with a beard…” He shuddered, the memory of the attack evident in his trembling words. His hand, still gripping the potion, shook as he held it out for Lukas to take.

Yumiko froze, the mention of the "messy haired man" sending a chill down her spine. The voice had spoken of him—the one they were to avoid. Tears continued to stream down her face as she realized the boy had encountered the monster.

Lukas gently took the potion from the boy’s trembling hand, his movements slow and gentle. "You were close, brave one," he said softly, his voice filled with both sadness and respect. The boy nodded weakly, his strength waning as he continued to cry silently, his body convulsing from the cold and the pain. Lukas brushed a strand of wet hair from the boy’s forehead, his touch tender, as if trying to offer some comfort in the boy’s final moments. "Close your eyes," he whispered, his voice low and reassuring. "We’ll see about your sister, okay? Just leave it to me. I won’t let that man hurt her."

The boy’s breathing grew shallower. He struggled to speak, his voice strained and barely audible against the patter of rain. “Sister… Hidden… Back home—”

“I’ll find her, don’t worry,” Lukas reassured him, his tone steady and calm, a contrast to the turmoil brewing inside. He watched in silence as the boy’s tears continued to fall, each drop a testament to the pain he was enduring.

“Mister… I’m scared…” the boy whimpered, his eyes wide with fear, tears streaming down his burned cheeks. Each tear that fell only served to deepen his suffering. “I don’t… want to die…”

Lukas fell silent for a moment, his heart heavy with uncertainty. Should he be honest with the boy about his own doubts? Should he admit that he didn’t know what awaited in the afterlife, or whether death would be painful or peaceful? These questions swirled in his mind, but he knew he had to provide some comfort, even if it felt like a facade.

“You have nothing to fear, young one," Lukas finally said, his voice gentle but firm. "Close your eyes until you feel comfortable.” He clenched his fists tightly, frustration gnawing at him as he questioned whether he was saying the right thing. "Let me worry about your family. Get some rest."

He watched as the boy's eyelids fluttered, his breathing uneven but beginning to slow. Lukas's heart ached with the weight of his own helplessness, but he knew he had to remain strong for the boy, even as the future loomed uncertain.

Tears streaked down the boy's burnt and charred face as he nodded weakly, his eyes slowly closing. In those final moments, his pained expression gradually softened, giving way to a serene stillness. His arms went limp, lifeless against the cold, wet ground. The sound of rain filled the eerily sad silence, a mournful backdrop to the loss that hung heavily in the air.