Beyond the cloudy sky over the Sea of Ebon, violent waves crash against the cliffs. Below, between the cliffs and sand dunes, rises the village of Miran. Broken and fragile roof tiles on the rooftops, fishing nets tossed to the sea by the cold wind, which carries away the hope of those inhabitants. The smell of salted fish spread like a plague. Those who once dared to dream became the shadows that roam the sea ahead. An abandoned lighthouse atop the hill reminds everyone of old times, pointing to the horizon where storm clouds gather like an omen. At the center, in the heart of the village, stands the church with all the faithful, for many, the only hope keeping them alive. But for how long??

  Beginning of the Chapter

  The horses' hooves beat in unison against the muddy trail winding around the village of Miran. The patrol of royal soldiers rode slowly while observing the sea on the slope, their capes whipped by the wind as the officers passed. In recent months, it had become increasingly difficult to remain near the sea, the ever-stronger winds destroyed everything in their path. It seemed the Sea of Ebon was enraged. Terrified inhabitants no longer dared leave their homes except for church; Father Meleq said it was God punishing his sinful children.?

  Captain Torren had a half-gray beard marked by scars from ancient battles and led the soldiers with eyes narrowed against the mist.

  "The Lords of Leganor advance, Captain," murmured Jorem, Torren's young swordsman apprentice, brave, but still far from being a good warrior. Torren knew he was running out of time to train him; the true battle approached.

  "They say their king, Valthor, covets our lands, the iron in the mines, our minerals, and of course the sea itself. The rumors are true; we must stay vigilant," said Torren.

  "Won't the inhabitants be informed?" Jorem asked brazenly. He trusted Torren, but the captain didn't like his ironic question, he knew him very well and knew he was insinuating something.?

  Torren looked at Jorem with a piercing gaze.

  "What do you mean by that, Jorem? Our king never lies; he will tell his people." Despite his fury, the captain restrained himself. He didn't like his apprentice's rebelliousness, found him often insolent, he had to respect his king above all, at least that was what Torren believed and lived by.

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  Jorem smirked, exactly as his master suspected, his irony screamed for freedom in his treacherous words.

  Torren growled, hand on his sword hilt. "King Valthor of Leganor always wanted what is ours. But our king won't allow it, nor will we. Understood, Jorem?"

  "Let the northern fanatics come," Jorem replied, fixing his gaze on his master.?

  Garrick, the 2nd officer, spat on the ground. "Saw signs yesterday, fresh tracks near the port. I'm certain the invaders are already among us."

  A sharp cry cut through the air, weak and desperate, coming from the bushes by the trail.

  The guards halted their horses on alert, their trained hands going to their weapons. "What was that?" Jorem whispered, pale. The truth he so masked was that he was a coward, and Torren knew it, his reaction said everything he needed to know.

  "Silence," the captain ordered, dismounting as quietly as possible. The crying intensified, but now the sound was clearer, it was a baby's wail.?

  The patrol advanced cautiously through the bushes, searching one by one. Torren approached a tree at the end, near the muddy path they traveled, parted the branches of the bush hiding the trunk with his sword, and froze at what he saw.

  On the damp, dirty ground, wrapped in a ragged blanket, naked and helpless, lay a newborn wailing in agony. Pale skin almost blue from the cold, eyes wide open fixed on the captain, almost as if recognizing him. No basket, no note, just brutal, unscrupulous abandonment.

  "By the seven hells," Torren muttered, kneeling. He picked up the child; his hands trembled for the first time in decades. "Who abandons a son of the Sea of Ebon like this? What curse is this?"

  Jorem approached with wide eyes. "Captain... could it be a trap?"?

  Torren wrapped the baby in his cape, heart heavy. How could anyone do something so hateful, abandon a defenseless being like that? He looked at the baby's face wailing uncontrollably, probably from fear, hunger, and cold. Only God knew how long he might have been there.

  Moved, the captain tried to soothe the baby, rocking him in his arms until he calmed and fell asleep. The two soldiers stared at Torren open-mouthed; they never imagined he had this paternal side, after all, he was a solitary man, without family, wife, or children, and had never spoken of wanting to be a father. But in that moment, the way he embraced that child with tenderness and affection, even though he wasn't truly his, changed everything they thought they knew about Captain Torren.