So, here is chapter 5.

I wasn't sure what the man who beats the drum in order to keep the tempo for a galley would be called, so I just went with coxswain, though I don't know if that is technically correct.

Anyway, enjoy.

It was mentioned by someone that this section of the story was confusing due to the POV swaps with each -\o/-. So I just wanted to go ahead and mention that the italics in this case are Sevrath's memories of the events following chapter 4, leading up to his current predicament. If it is a big enough problem for people, I might end up trying to change it so that it is less confusing, but I currently can't be bothered as I don't know how I would go about that.

Fall of Man, Dawn of the 2nd God War,

We were Fools. Through long years of hardship and toil, we finally pushed back the tide of darkness which had been spawned by The Damned One. Countless lives were lost to the never-ending hunger of the demonic beings. Finally, at great cost, we eradicated the last of the monsters which had emerged from the Desolate Lands. We had won.

We were Fools.

For though we pushed back the darkness storming our gates, we ignored the darkness in our hearts. Slowly, ever so slowly, man began to succumb to the temptations of The Damned One in their quests for power.

We were Fools.

For though the day had finally come, darkness will always follow.

The chains rattled in response to his movements. His head was pounding still, days later. He saw the world through a blurry haze, his mouth felt as if it was stuffed with cotton, and his brain stuttered, unable to coalesce coherent thought. His eyes were out of focus, dazed, seeming to be seeing something that was no longer present.

-\o/-

“Dad! Mom!” Sevrath cried out in horror as he saw an arrow slide into his mother’s chest, followed closely by a sword piercing through his father’s chest.

He froze in place, staring with an unbelieving gaze as his parents, who had raised him with a love absent from most other interactions he had in his life, were mercilessly killed for reasons unknown to him.

He found himself unable to move, immobile. It was only the sudden greedy gazes of the bandits which caused him to snap back to reality, providing the impetus needed for his legs to begin running towards the forest.

He was filled with grief to an almost overwhelming extent. But deep within that grief, there was something else, something that seemed to burn with need, with a single desire which only seemed to grow stronger with every second he observed it; wrath. However, it was currently but a small ember in the face of his grief, and only time would tell if it would grow to a roaring fire, or sputter to nothingness from the incessant rainfall of sorrow.

Sevrath dashed towards the treeline, ignoring the angry shouts that followed him. He knew that he would likely have the same fate as his parents were he to madly attack the murderers. Only in the forest, a place that had long been a refuge for him, would he potentially find safety.

So he charged into the forest, hoping to gain ground on the bandits and eventually lose their trail.

-\o/-

He shook his head violently at the memories which rose to his mind unabated. He did not want to see them. It reminded him too clearly of his loss. He just wanted to sleep.

-\o/-

Sevrath panted deeply, trying to catch his breath to no avail. He was far too nervous. It had been hours since he entered the forest. Initially, he believed that due to his knowledge of the forest, he would quickly be able to slip away, like a ghost into the night.

Things did not go as planned.

It was true that Sevrath was skilled in staying silent as he ran, and was just as adept at breaking a trail. But he had never once in his life been pursued in such a manner, knowing that one mistake, one misstep would cost him his life. It was dark as the abyss on this moonless night, with only the rare glimpse of wooden bark, and of green shrubbery preventing his cacophonous collision. Even then, he found himself making far more noise than it was safe to, as he could only rely on intuition to avoid the crackling of twigs underfoot or the painful impact of flesh on plantlife.

His only saving grace was that his pursuers were making just as much, if not more noise in their attempts to capture him.

Finally breathing more steadily, he took the time to collect his thoughts for the first time that night since the house had been attacked. Arms upraised to avoid walking into the nearby trees, he came to a stop upon feeling the rough bark scrape against his forearms. Feeling hesitantly upwards, he began to steadily climb the tree at a snail’s pace, his trembling arms increasing the difficulty of the task tenfold.

He had just reached a resting point a few meters up when he heard the crashing sounds of his pursuers.

“Dammit all! This twerp is really starting to piss me off. If it weren’t for how much money-”

“Shut up and be quiet!” One of his companions hissed at him in frustration. “I can’t hear him anymore, and you screaming like that is not helping!”

The forest lapsed into an eerie silence as the group strained their ears to listen for the crackle of leaves and the snap of twigs that had been present only a moment before. There was nothing other than the lonely drone of insects, calling for their kin.

Sevrath had been holding his breath in fear since their entrance, and was now becoming numb from staying in such an uncomfortable position for so long. Without any real conscious thought, he slightly shifted in order to alleviate this feeling.

A snap rang out from the nearby branches, disturbed by Sevrath’s subtle movement.

The bandits immediately became alert, looking upwards, eyes dilating in hopes of seeing in the total darkness. A few minutes passed, and there was no further noise.

“Let’s move on, it was just an animal. If we linger any longer, we’ll lose him.” One of the bandits spoke up, slowly enunciating his words. Soon, the bandits once again began to crash through the shrubbery, the sounds becoming more and more distant.

Sevrath breathed a sigh of relief, gathered his courage and slowly began to climb back down the tree, ready to start moving towards the town and safety. He quietly descended the tree, accompanied by little sound.

He turned around, ready to begin the long journey back, only to be met with the slight shine of eyes staring back at him, and the yellowish-white sheen of an animalistic grin.

“Well hello there. Nice of you to come down on your own.

The flat of a blade slammed into his head, knocking him out cold.

-\o/-

Sevrath cradled his head, letting loose yet another groan as waves of pain once again rolled over him.

The sharp crack of a whip tore through the air, accompanied by a sharp, stinging pain lancing across his back. Sevrath hissed through his teeth in agony, before once again grabbing the nearby oars with his torn, bleeding hands.

He rowed to the steady beat of the coxswain’s drums, losing himself in the push and pull of the oars and the incessant twinge in his muscles, forgetting his grief in the monotonous pain of rowing.

-\o/-

Sevrath woke up with a groan, trying to grab his head as it pounded viciously like a drum within his skull. All that gained his was a slight pain as he wrenched his arm against the chains binding his wrists.

He looked down in confusion to see hemp rope binding his arms. The sight finally woke him from his daze, as he remembered the previous night. The sudden pain at the back of his head, being chased through the forest for hours, his mother and father-

Stop!

He shut his eyes tightly in an attempt to deny the reality of what happened. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he could not challenge what he had seen with his own eyes; the splash of blood spraying through the air as the arrow whistled through the air, and struck his mother’s chest, the trickle of blood pouring down his father’s mouth as he stared disbelievingly at his wife, before succumbing to his own fate. They were gone. Dead. And he could not convince himself otherwise, no matter how hard he tried.

Anger began to billow within his heart, temporarily replacing the sense of loss that had pervaded his whole being. His chest felt like it was going to break out of his skin, and his fingers tingled with a need; a need to take action, to make right the wrongs that had been done to him.

A sharp bark of laughter echoed from outside the room he was left in. They did not bother to chain him to the wall, nor did they have any other protective measures against him other than binding his hands. Likely they did not believe he would wake up soon, or even that he would ever be a threat.

He looked to his waist, searching for the dagger he had been left by his birth mother, the only real connection he had to her. It was gone. Strangely enough, it was this that threw him over the edge of sanity. They took his mother from him. They took his father. Now, they wanted to take the only physical reminder he possessed of the one who birthed him, who protected him with her own life within the Lands of Desolation?

Anger bubbled up in his chest, an anger like none he had experience previously. Through his life, he had been mocked, jeered at, teased, and beaten by those in Carthal, and yet he had never once felt this way. This, unending, all-encompassing rage that seemed to tear at his soul and feed it all at once. This sense of… Wrath.

He glared at the door which separated him from his captors, as if by he could bend reality through his will alone, causing it to disappear in a fiery inferno that echoed that of his heart. However, his rage, impressive as it was, left a small sense of cold rationality, a voice that told him he would not take revenge through brute measures. He would have to make use of both his wit and will in order to appease his wrath.

It was not as if he had anything else to live for.

-\o/-

He lay there silently, praying for sleep to end his pain, and fearing the nightmares it was likely to bring. It was only after an unknown amount of time that he got his wish, and sunk back into oblivion.

-\o/-

A pained groan echoed out of the captive’s room. The men outside the room ignored it.

However, all men have a breaking point. After minutes of groaning and writhing, the men guarding the door could no longer calmly sit nearby and sent one of the group into the room to deal with their captive.

Upon opening the door, the man saw exactly what he expected. A teenager in grief, eyes red, with tears streaming down his face, laying flat on the stomach. A grin stretched out on the man’s face as he walked up to the kid and sent his booted toe flying into his side.

“Aagh!” The brat screamed in pain as he continued to clutch at his stomach.

“Quiet, or I will have to hit you again!” The man warned him, before sadistically slamming his foot into his side once again, knowing that more than likely will cause him to scream again, giving him an excuse to continue to beat on him.

The kid slid from his stomach to his side as the kick landed, leaving a trail of blood behind. The guard paused in appreciation, not once questioning how he could have lost so much blood in so little time.

By the time he realized his error, it was already too late.

-\o/-

All too soon he woke up from his sleepless rest, and was forced to once again row to the beat of the drum or face the overseer’s whip.

The clatter of the hatch door opening heralded the arrival of a newcomer. Turning his head is slight curiosity, Sevrath’s breathing quickened and his already bloodshot eyes seemed to worsen. The man who had entered the hold was a large man, not of muscle but of luxury. His girth was only matched by his ostentation, with earrings of gold and rings to match adorning his ears and fingers, and a luxurious silk brocade attempting to conceal his girth.

The only thing lacking the gaudy flair the rest of his outfit contained was a strange rusty dagger strapped to his waistband, though what it lacked in ornateness, it made up for with its exotic shape.

Sevrath’s eyes narrowed.

He would kill him.

-\o/-

Sevrath rubbed his bleeding wrists, now free of the restraining ropes, before searching the guards body, currently numb to the fact that he had killed for the first time. It had been all too easy, albeit painful, to deal with the unobservant guards outside. Once the first had been dealt with, which admittedly was a bit satisfying due to the constant reminder of his aching ribs with every step, he easily dealt with the remaining two guards outside, who sauntered in with no awareness not long after. After wiping his bloodstained hands on the dead man’s clothes, he searched the stone room frantically and was relieved to find his mother’s dagger. The kris had been thrown on one of the spare tables, much to Sevrath’s relief.

Now that he had the dagger, he strangely felt much more empowered than before, his muscles twitching in excited abandon, ready to move, to run, to fight.

He calmed himself down with a deep breath, believing his feelings to be brought on by the suspenseful situation.

Thinking it to be safe now that his captors were killed, he opened the door and leisurely stepped out into the midday sun.

He did not know where he was.

All around, he saw unfamiliar sights. Gulls cackled from up high, and waves crashed with fervor against the nearby bluff. Great wooden ships sunk low across the water, cutting across the waves with little effort.

His mouth dropped in surprise long enough to point him out as an outsider, earning him second glances from those passing by. Unfortunately, those second glances discovered some unattending to bloodstains left on his shirt, and in no time, an uproar began.

Lacking familiarity with his surroundings and weak due to blood loss, it took very little time for him to be captured once more, despite his struggles.

-\o/-

The galley ship had been tailed by pirates for the last few days, slowly pushing them into their trap. Fearful of the pirates and unwilling to have his wealth plundered, the galley ship was forced to move into deeper waters in an attempt to shake off their pursuers, spurred on by the crack of the whip and the beat of the drums.

-\o/-

“I want him dead!”

“I told you already, he has to be sold, or else we will not have fulfilled our end of the bargain. Do you want to assuage your anger, or do you want to be rich? Yeah? I thought so.”

“Fine, then let’s get rid of him already. The longer we take, the more likely I am going to end up murdering him.”

“Alright, alright. Look, here comes a potential buyer now.”

-\o/-

Sevrath wheezed as he lost his grip on the oars, uncaring if he was whipped for his insubordination. He was too tired. In the slaver’s fear of the pirates, they had been forced to continuously row for an indeterminable amount of time, deeper and deeper into the ocean. Finally, the pirates had finally given up pursuit, apparently seeing the chase as not worth the effort required.

“Oh goddess, we went too far north. We are doomed.” He heard a slave on a nearby bench moan in terror.

Sevrath had no time to question the man before their ship was broadsided, sending those above to their doom and snapping the mast of the ship like a twig. Another wave bombarded the ship, and he was sent into darkness.

They had been pushed past the Curtain of Desolation.

-\o/-

“Yes, I would like to purchase him, though you would have to throw in that dagger there to. No? Look, I can see that you are desperate to sell him for whatever reason and that dagger is obviously worth very little. I only want both because I am something of a collector, be it of items or… specimen. The boy is uncommon here due to his black hair, but elsewhere? Not so much. Those eyes however, I have never seen the like. The strange dagger makes the two a matching set.”

“Just sell him already!”

“Fine, though I do have to warn you that he has already almost managed to escape, killing three of our men in the process.”

“That will be no problem, I will be sure to discipline him so that he obeys me without question. Though… it might be exciting to allow him to keep a small portion of that fiery passion.” The large man licked his lips lustily before finishing the transaction, his assortment of rings and earrings shining in response to the blazing sun.

The two men looked at each other uneasily before accepting the coins.

As they left the square, they could already hear the lash of a knotted whip slashing across the boy's chest, welcoming him to his new life.