ROLFE: Heir to the ancient throne

Episode 3

The torches cast long shadows down the corridor under Rockwyn’s hall. The air felt damp and had a smell of mold and rust. Rolfe’s boots scraped through the dirt as Jeras’s men pulled him forward using ropes tied around his arms. 

“Move,” Varn grunted, pushing him toward a low door. 

They pushed him inside, and the darkness enveloped him completely. For a brief moment, all he could hear was the sound of dripping water and his own harsh breathing. Then the door slammed shut above him, and silence filled the space like a living being. 

Rolfe blinked as his eyes began to adjust. The pit was small, with stone walls slick from moss and a faint scent of blood in the air. He could hardly see anything, but something in the corner caught his eye, a slumped figure chained to the wall. 

"Who's there?" he croaked out. 

The figure stirred, and a raspy voice emerged from the shadows. "Rolfe...?" 

Rolfe froze. That voice is broken yet familiar. 

"Brother?" 

There was a shuffling sound followed by a cough that broke the stillness. "They said I was dead." 

Rolfe crawled closer, his heart pounding loudly. The light from the narrow opening above illuminated a pale face sunken and bruised, but unmistakably Malcer. 

"By the gods..." Rolfe whispered in disbelief. 

Malcer’s eyes opened halfway. "He couldn’t finish it. He wants to appear righteous, not cruel. So he keeps me hidden here, a ghost beneath his throne." 

Rolfe gripped the chains tightly and pulled, but they wouldn’t budge. "I’ll get you out of here." 

"You won’t," Malcer murmured weakly. "You’ll die if you try." He coughed again, blood staining his lips. "Listen carefully. Jeras is no longer just a man. The storm took something from him and left something else behind. Don’t let him steal the clan’s spirit." 

“Save your strength,” Rolfe said through gritted teeth. “I’ll get you out of here.” 

He truly meant it, but Malcer only gave a faint smile, closing his eyes. “I’ll be here waiting, little brother. In both light and darkness.” 

The door above creaked open again. Varn’s voice rang out. “Enough talking, you brat.” 

Hands grabbed Rolfe and pulled him back into the hallway. He struggled, but a blow to his stomach doubled him over. Blood spattered on the floor. 

Jeras stood calmly at the end of the corridor with his arms crossed. 

“You’ve seen what the gods do with mercy,” he said. “Now you’ll witness their punishment for defiance.” 

Rolfe held his gaze steady. “When I get back up, I’ll rip your heart out.” 

Jeras smiled without hesitation. “Then rise quickly. I’m getting bored.” 

He turned away, signaling to his men. “Hang him until dawn. Let the crows decide what remains.” 

So they dragged Rolfe through the square. He could barely stand due to his injuries. They tied him to a post outside the palisade where the land sloped down toward the river. 

The rain started again. His thoughts became fuzzy, as he remembers Malcer's voice, the clinking of chains, and the word 'rise' echoed in his mind. He faded in and out of darkness. 

Few minutes later, he heard movements in the corner. 

A hand touched his shoulder gently, followed by a whisper. “Rolfe… stay quiet.” 

He blinked awake to see a girl in front of him, wearing a hood and soaked through her cloak. Behind her was another figure, a young man holding a knife. 

“Elisa?” he whispered weakly in recognition.

She quickly nodded and cut the ropes binding his wrists. “Be quiet. They’ll hear us.” 

The knife slipped, but Jarvis grabbed his arm to help steady him. “If you can move, do it. We don’t have much time.” 

Rolfe stared at them, the chief’s daughter and her loyal friend. They were the same ones who had laughed at him behind the forge and ignored him when he tried to join their group. 

“Why?” he whispered angrily. 

“Because I couldn’t bear to see him kill again,” Elisa replied. “He’s not the man he used to be.” 

Rolfe felt his throat tighten. “Now is a great time for you to find your conscience.” 

“Not now,” Jarvis insisted. “We’ll die here if you start arguing.” 

They lifted and dragged him toward the edge of the wooden fence. A gap in the barrier had been pried open and was hidden by vines. Beyond it lay the dark, endless forest. 

Rolfe stumbled through as his strength faded. Elisa helped him with a hand on his back while Jarvis stayed behind to close off the gap. 

“Hurry!” he whispered urgently. 

They ran forward, branches scratching their faces and mud clinging to their boots. Behind them, a horn blew once, then twice. 

“They’ve seen us,” Jarvis said quietly. 

Rolfe fell down, his knee giving way, but Elisa pulled him back up. “Just a little farther.” 

“Where are we going?” he panted. 

“There’s a small hut by the old stream,” Elisa said. “A woman named Mira lives there. She can help us.” 

“Mira?” Rolfe gasped. “She’s still alive?” 

“She left after the duel,” Jarvis explained. “She said the spirits were crying out from the ground. If anyone knows how to keep us hidden, it’s her.” 

As dawn's light slowly filtered through the trees, they arrived at the stream. The forest felt still and quiet for a moment. 

Then they heard shouts in the distance that were getting closer. 

“Split up,” Jarvis ordered. “I’ll distract them.” 

“No,” Rolfe replied sharply. “They’ll kill you.” 

Jarvis grinned. “You haven’t seen me run.” Before they could stop him, he disappeared into the mist. 

Elisa clutched Rolfe’s arm. “This way!” 

They crossed the stream, splashing with their boots and feeling their hearts race as the shouts faded away. Finally, through the fog, they spotted a shape; a crooked hut under an old oak tree with smoke rising from its chimney. 

Elisa knocked twice, paused, then knocked again. 

The door swung open to reveal Mira. Her eyes, as pale as frost, widened when she saw Rolfe. “So now the storm brings back the dead,” she whispered. It was the first time she Rolfe was that close to her and she definitely saw something.

Rolfe almost collapsed from shock. “He lives! Malcer is alive and trapped beneath Rockwyn.” 

Mira’s expression turned serious. “Then Rockwyn is already cursed.” 

She ushered them inside. The hut smelled of herbs and ashes, with candles flickering on a table next to jars filled with dried roots. She motioned for Rolfe to sit down while Elisa helped him onto a pile of furs. 

The horns of their pursuers continued to echoe faintly through the trees as they followed Jarvis track, falling for his brilliant plan.

Mira shut the door while softly whispering a prayer. “They’ll be here soon. But they won’t find you if I can help it.” 

Rolfe looked at her, feeling weak but determined. “You knew this would happen.” 

“I had a vision,” she replied gently. “A brother consuming another. A never-ending storm.” 

He tightened his fists. “Then tell me how to stop it.” 

Mira locked eyes with him. “To end a storm, you must become its center. But that cost is not yours to bear yet.” 

Her words lingered in the air like smoke. 

Rolfe turned to Elisa, narrowing his eyes. “You saved me, why?” 

Elisa paused for a moment. “Because I should have stood by you before. When they made fun of you, I laughed along with them. It was easier that way.” 

He looked away, disappointed. “You were just looking out for yourself.” 

“Maybe,” she said quietly. “But now I’m saving you.” 

For a long while, silence filled the space between them. Then Rolfe broke that silence with a declaration, “I’ll find Malcer and free him. Then I’ll destroy Jeras’s throne.” 

Mira put her hand on his should

er. “Then you better make sure to stay alive long enough to do it.”