ROLFE: Heir to the ancient throne

Episode 5

That night, the moon hung cold and distant over Rockwyn, casting silver light on rooftops and sharp spikes. The clan banners drooped low, drenched in evening dew, swaying in the restless wind that whispered through the empty settlement like ghosts passing by. 

Elisa took the lead with her hood pulled tight, walking carefully and controlling her breaths. Behind her, Rolfe and Jarvis, thin, shaking, but still alive, moved like shadows along the dark edges of Rockwyn. They had entered through old grain tunnels beneath the eastern walls passages long forgotten except by those either desperate or reckless enough to use them. 

Jarvis stumbled once, pain from his recent torture still fresh. Rolfe caught him before he fell and murmured, “Be careful. One sound and it’s all over.” 

“I can still walk,” Jarvis replied in a cracked voice. “Just get me far away from this cursed place.” 

When they reached the edge of the woods, Elisa paused. The forest ahead was dark and damp, with only the occasional glimmer of moonlight reflecting off rain-soaked leaves. She turned to Rolfe, her eyes sharper than he remembered. 

“You’ve done enough,” she said softly. “We can vanish from here. Corville is less than two days’ walk north if we stick to the river trail.” 

Rolfe didn’t respond. His gaze drifted past her to the heart of Rockwyn the chief’s hall where his brother, Malcer, was still imprisoned. He could almost sense Malcer’s presence faintly echoing in his mind a connection older than loyalty and stronger than blood. 

Elisa frowned and said, “Don’t even think about it. If you go back there, you’ll be dead before you reach the door.” 

He shook his head slowly. If they could sneak in and rescue Jarvis, then he could do the same for his brother. “He’s my brother. I left him once, and I won’t do that again.” 

“Rolfe ” 

He turned away from her, feeling a strange heaviness in the air around him. “You mentioned that Jeras called most of the warriors to the feast.” 

“Yes, but ” 

“Then the walls are thin. I can sneak in, find him, and get out before they realize it.” 

Jarvis winced and held his ribs. “You’re crazy. The chief’s hall is never empty, even during a feast.” 

“I’ll figure it out,” he replied. 

Elisa stepped in front of him. “This isn’t bravery; it’s madness.” 

For the first time that night, Rolfe looked her in the eyes. “If it were your brother locked up like that, would you still say the same?” 

Her expression hardened, but then she almost imperceptibly moved aside. “Fine,” she said quietly. “But I won’t go with you this time.” 

He nodded. “I wouldn’t let you anyway.” 

Then he disappeared into the night moving like smoke through the trees, silent and determined, unknowingly pursued by his past. 

***

The village was quiet as he slipped back through the ditch path near the eastern palisade. Only a faint flicker of torchlight from the main road hinted at any life around him. Most warriors had gathered in the longhouse for the feast of a new chief, with their laughter and chants barely audible from a distance. 

Rolfe quietly moved through the shadows until he arrived at the barracks. When he opened the door to the holding cell, it creaked, causing him to stop his hand hovering near a loose dagger he had taken from one of Jeras’ men earlier. 

Inside, the air was thick with the smell of decay and sweat. Straw was scattered on the floor, stained dark with blood. Malcer's cell was empty. 

“Looking for someone?” 

A low, mocking growl came from the shadows to his left. A figure stepped forward: Kol, broad-shouldered with eyes gleaming in cruel amusement. He had his sword drawn, its blade glinting in the faint light of a torch. 

“Kol,” Rolfe whispered, feeling his heart race. 

The warrior smirked. “I didn’t expect you would come back to this trap.” 

Rolfe lifted his dagger, but it seemed weak next to Kol’s sword. “Where is my brother?” 

Kol shrugged. “Ask the new chief. He likes to keep trophies.” 

Then the fight started. 

Kol lunged forward, his blade cutting through the air. Rolfe instinctively dodged, feeling the rush of danger brush against his cheek. He had never trained properly, but something inside him stirred with purpose, like a forgotten memory coming back to life. Every movement felt guided and accurate, almost as if it was meant to happen. 

Kol attacked once more, quickly and powerfully. Rolfe ducked under his swing, struck the hilt of his dagger into Kol’s ribs, and rolled aside as Kol staggered back, growling. 

“Who taught you that?” Kol spat out. 

Rolfe stayed silent. He barely understood it himself. His body reacted before he could think, moving in a way that felt unfamiliar to him. He sensed an energy pulsing beneath his skin, sharp like lightning and as ancient as blood. 

Kol let out a roar and charged at him with his blade raised. Rolfe stepped to the side, seized Kol’s wrist, twisted it and plunged his dagger deep into the man’s side. Kol gasped, eyes wide with shock, then crumpled into the straw. 

Rolfe stood over him, breathing heavily. The dagger trembled in his hand. He glanced at the blood pooling around Kol and felt its weight then heard voices nearby. 

“Kol? Are you there?” 

The torches outside flared brighter. Shouts erupted. Footsteps approached. 

Rolfe turned and fled. 

He dashed through the barracks, leaped over the fence, and sprinted into the woods. 

Behind him, the horns of Rockwyn blared three long notes of warning, alerting the entire village, including Jeras. 

By the time Rolfe reached the edge of the forest again, he was being chased through the lively night. He stumbled into the clearing where Elisa and Jarvis had been waiting, blood staining his sleeve and breath coming in ragged gasps. 

Elisa's eyes grew wide. "You did it, didn't you?" 

Rolfe avoided her gaze. "I didn’t save him." 

"Then what…?" 

"He's still there. I had to leave him." 

Elisa's voice shook. "Then why is there blood?" 

Rolfe looked down at his hands. "Because I killed one of theirs." 

Jarvis stepped closer. "You killed Kol?"

Rolfe nodded in response. 

Then a horn blared again in a distance, louder and nearer this time.

"They're coming," Elisa whispered. 

Rolfe clenched his jaw. "Then we need to keep moving." 

With that, the three hurried north through the darkness, their shadows disappearing among the whispering trees chased not only by

men but also by the weight of what they had started.