The first few days in the forest had not been easy. They neither had protection against the elements nor enough food reserves to last for long. They would soon have to start gathering what fruits and herbs they could.

They had spent their first few nights in the woods under a sprawling Oak, while Arran set about the task of building a decent shelter to protect themselves. There was a small stream by the Oak, ensuring thatchy had an immediate supply of fresh water. The Oak’s vast canopy proved effective against the occasional rains but it would not suffice if they had to survive though this year’s winter. There was still time, but they had to make the best of it and quickly become self sustainable.

Arran had quickly set about the task of building them a small shelter. The first thing that he did was to sharpen a stone, by slowly chipping it with other stones, to use as a tool. He had used it to cut down small trees, their trunks no wider than his wrist. These trunks served as the supports around which the rest of the small shelter was built. He had used vines to weave around the supports, creating a makeshift wall. Wet clay was then caked onto the walls, filling in the gaps between the weaves and strengthening the structure. Rows of leaves were heaped onto the top of the structure to act as a roof.

Though the shelter was anything but strong, it was far better than they could have hoped for in their circumstances. The small hut was constructed under the Oaks canopy, its shelter augmented by the canopy’s own protection.

Isan, on the other hand had been busy stockpiling what fruits she could find around their shelter. She had then cleared a patch of land beside the hut with Arran’s help, deciding to use it to sow what edible plants they could find.

Weeks pass in bliss. They had slow settled down into their new lives. Surrounded by the beauty of the fen, a serenity seeped into their otherwise fearful lives. They had slowly forgotten about their pursuers, each passing day assuring them further that no one would disturb their cozy abode.

The patch of land that Isan had planted had started producing fruits and vegetables, serving as a cache of immediately available food on a rainy day. Arran had also learnt to hunt over the past few weeks. He had only been able to obtain fish from the creek before progressing onto bigger game. Rabbits had proven themselves quite elusive until Arran had learnt to set snares for them.

Arran had set off on one his usual morning runs to see if any of his snares had been set off. The day progressed as he went about his routine, slinging the occasional habit that had been unfortunate enough to set off his snares over his shoulder. It had been a decent haul. Isan would be pleased, he thought.

He couldn't help but notice the eerie calm as he neared their hut. It was too quiet, as if the fen was watching, with bated breath, as a drama unfolds in its very midst. He dropped the rabbits he had slung over his shoulder, before crouching close to the ground. He prowled silently onwards, his eyes darting back and forth for telltale signs of danger.

As he neared the Oak, he was beset by a sudden paralysis, freezing him in place. He could not move a single part of his body save his eyes. A pair of strong hands gripped his arms before hauling him onto a well muscled shoulder. He was then carried towards the hut, where he witnessed, to his horror that there were dozens of people wearing Lord Tusian’s house colours.

“Having a magician sure simplifies matters a lot” sneered Lord Erdoch, tracing his index finger along Arran’s cheek.

Arran had Isan had over estimated their safety in the fen. They had assumed that the rumours regarding the fen would keep any pursuers at bay. Their weeks of peace had only reinforced this notion, making them slowly lessen their caution.

It had been a grave mistake.

Isan and the two horses had been frozen similar to Arran. There were too many men around Arran to identify exactly who the magician was. He knew that even if he could identify who the magician was, there was little he could do unless he could free himself from the magician’s spell.

“Isan, my darling. What a waste! You could have had a pleasurable life, if only you hadn’t decided to sully yourself with a slave” Erdoch spat, disgust written plainly across his face.

“Brats like you who sully the noble lineage should be exterminated.” He continued, moving toward Equs. “A fine horse you have here. Anshar, how long can you hold the horses? I don't want to damage them.”

“A few minutes more. My lord” one of the men at Erdoch’s side replied, sweat streaming down his face. “The thoroughbred has a surprisingly higher sentience than most other beings…it is quite rare my lord. I would like to buy it off of your gracious hands…..” he added, plastering a smile on his face.

“Mhmm, well…take it, i would have to return it to Egon if I take it back with me…you might as well become stronger.”

“Your generosity knows no bounds.” the magician replied, before gleefully making his way to Equs.

The horse struggled against his binds as the magician approached him. It was clear that the magician was under immense strain. Beads of sweat dripped down his face, plopping silently onto the earth beneath. He placed a hand on Equs’s brow before closing his eyes and growing still. Equs had suddenly stopped struggling, his eyes closing in imitation to the magician’s own.

Arran too, fought back against his invisible binds. It was clear that Erdoch intended harm. He knew that the situation looked hopeless but he still had to try his best to save themselves.

Erdoch walked back towards isan, drawing his sword.

“Filth like you who sully our name cannot be allowed to live” he said, before thrusting it into her stomach.

Arran couldn't believe what he was seeing. How can his world turn upside down so fast. How could he be happy one moment, only to have it ripped away the next moment? She would die. The filth would kill her. These fucking nobles and their filthy arrogance. Arran hadn't even realised the full extent of the danger they had been in. He hadn't thought that they would kill them so easily. he had assumed that they would at least have a fighting chance. But the fucking noble had not given a single second thought about killing Isan, he made it seem so effortless and callous. It was as if he did not even consider Isan as a human.

These fucking nobles. They will die. They will all burn in hell. Arran cursed the world then, his anger, suppressed for months, was breaking free of his grasp. It was as if it was its own being.

Erdoch withdrew his sword, preparing to impale Isan once again. Isan looked towards Arran then, the life slowly draining from her beautiful eyes. They conveyed what her frozen face could not. They told Arran of the happiness he had given her. They told Arran of the immense regret that they did not have more time together. They told Arran to live for her sake.

The sword descended once again, stabbing her through the stomach a second time.

Her eyes conveyed a smile that her lips could not….before emptying their very last light on Arran, filling him with the warmth of her love one last time.

Arran’s rage burst forth then. His midnight black eyes losing their brilliance, a surreal blankness replacing it. Everyone will die. He knew this. He was certain of this. Every fucking noble will die.

He smiled then, a wild and feral smile. The bonds holding him in place broke apart, torn and ripped as if they were made of paper. The magician’s eyes jerked wide open, a primal scream erupting from him as he crumpled onto the ground, panting heavily for breath.

Let me…..do this…..Let me …Let me…..Let meeeeeeee……..

A voice echoed in his head. It was filled with madness and insanity. Arran thought it was beautiful. He did not want to deal with this shitty reality. he wanted to go to sleep and never wake up.

I will……..killl……….eat………killlllllll……….

“Gladly…” Arran said to no one in particular.

He bent forward then, as if suddenly losing his balance. A raging inferno erupted around him, incinerating everything within a few tens of metres around him. Not a single soul was spared.

Erdoch, the magician, all of the guards…no one was left alive. Isan’s body and the two horses on the other hand, were left curiously untouched.

The man who once called himself Arran fell onto the ground, sleep overtaking his exhausted soul.

I am not at all satisfied with how this chapter turned out. It contains too little description about their life in the woods and Erdoch's attack. This should have ideally been two chapters. I just couldn't seem to bring myself to write as elaborately as I would have liked to and hence the crappy chapter. Hopefully, I will be able to fix this in the second draft.

On a lighter note, First milestone reached. This chapter concludes the story of Arran the slave. I hope to develop the story a little quicker from now, hopefully introducing some politics and wars(Arran will definitely be in the centre of everything). Magic will take on a more prominent role from now. I believe that I have a unique magic system. I do hope you will be able to provide feedback about possible loopholes in the system as they get revealed.

Thank You