Storm of Shadows

Chapter 7

Alan frowned, wondering if he just got this stranger in trouble. He had enough problems of his own, yet this man was now suffering because he had tried to protect him.

“Take him to the mountain as well!” the enforcer ordered. “Let him meet his end alongside his so-called friend!”

Alan could only sigh as the guards dragged them both away.

He had no idea what awaited them on the mountain, but judging by the way the old man had begged for mercy earlier, it couldn’t be anything good.

“Move!”

One of the enforcers shoved Alan forward.

He stumbled and fell onto his knees with a sharp gasp, pain spreading through his already battered body.

“This is torture,” he muttered under his breath.

He forced himself back onto his feet, breathing heavily as he occasionally glanced at the man walking beside him.

The stranger’s face was pale, and fear had settled into his eyes. Even so, he had not complained about being dragged into the same punishment.

Alan didn’t understand him.

Why would anyone risk their life for a stranger?

He had spent most of his life looking after himself because nobody else would do it for him. His father was dead, his mother was bedridden, and his little sister depended on him. He had learned long ago that kindness alone wouldn’t keep him alive.

Yet this man had stepped forward without hesitation.

The thought left Alan feeling strangely uncomfortable.

He looked away and continued walking.

Eventually, they arrived at the foot of a towering mountain.

Alan raised his head, staring at the massive structure that loomed above them. Its steep slopes stretched toward the clouds, concealing whatever lay beyond his sight.

A sense of dread crept into his heart.

He was getting closer to his first trial’s objective, but he had no idea how he was supposed to accomplish it. He didn’t even know whether Lord Sorrowshade was actually on the mountain.

Wicked! How does this damn place expect me to pass my first trial without giving me anything? Not even a weapon!

As though responding to his frustration, the ground suddenly shook again.

Alan lost his balance and fell face-first onto the ground.

“Ugh!”

Before he could push himself up, another whip struck his back.

“Ah!”

The pain forced a cry from his throat.

The enforcers burst into mocking laughter and derided, “Such a weakling! He will not endure even a second, Hahaha!”

One of them stepped closer and raised his whip again.

“Rise!”

Alan gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand.

His entire body ached. His back burned where the whip had struck him, and his legs trembled beneath his weight. He could barely remember the last time his mother had whipped him, but even that memory seemed insignificant compared to what he was enduring now.

The situation made him look miserable but he knew he needed to stay strong for the sake of his family waiting for him at home.

He had to return to them, no matter how much pain he endured.

Clenching his fists, Alan forced himself to keep moving.

As they climbed farther up the mountain, he noticed several sentinels stationed along the path. Unlike the enforcers who had dragged them here, these men appeared strangely relaxed, standing around as though they had nothing important to do.

What disturbed Alan most was the absence of other slaves.

There were no people working, no desperate cries for mercy, and no sounds of punishment. The silence was so complete that it made the place feel even more ominous.

Where had everyone gone?

One of the sentinels approached them, then he looked the two prisoners over and sneered. “Ah, the new sacrifices!”

Alan’s eyes widened. Sacrifices?

He immediately turned toward his unknown companion. The man’s expression had grown fearful, and when their eyes met, he gave Alan a slow nod.

That single gesture told Alan everything he needed to know.

Whatever awaited them beyond this point, it was something the man already feared.

The sentinels approached a large metal entrance built into the mountainside. One of them grabbed a handle and pulled, causing the heavy door to creak open.

“Get in.”

Alan stared at the dark entrance.

He had been beaten, dragged across the island, and brought to a mountain where people were apparently sent to die. Now, these men expected him to walk inside without even telling him what awaited him.

He had endured enough.

“What’s in there?” he demanded.

The sentinel looked at him with disdain. “It is no concern of thine.”

Alan’s temper finally snapped. “It is my concern if I’m the one who’s going to die!”

The sentinel’s expression turned cold.

In one swift movement, he drew his sword and pressed the blade against Alan’s neck.

“And I could sever thy head this very moment if I wished,” he said, his voice laced with mockery. “But that would be far too easy, would it not?”