The Danger Comes (Who is He?)

Ghorra, present time

It had been an extremely strange couple of hours for Aine.

Sitting cross-legged on the dirt floor of the marketplace, she tried to keep her composure. The warmth of the sun was heavy on her skin, but the strange turn of events had left her too distracted to notice much of anything else. Beside her, Robert was fidgeting relentlessly. His nervous energy was practically vibrating off him, but Aine did her best to block it out. It was starting to grate on her nerves, but she pretended to not notice.

What should have been a chill day at the marketplace, selling produce on behalf of her adoptive grandad’s business, has turned to be one of the most memorable ones she has had throughout her entire life.

That was leaving out the madness of a kid literally falling from the sky. In the context of their everyday lives, though, today was the closest Robert had ever come to confessing his feelings to her.

Their whole life he had acted like a brat, trying to one up her in front of his actual grandad in hopes of getting the chance to be the next heir amongst his cousins.

Little did he know, that the decision was already made in that old man’s mind.

Well that is what Aine assumed.

For what was probably one of the most dull, remote places in the country—or maybe the region, or even the entire world (Aine wasn’t really sure, like most people around here, since she didn’t know much about the world beyond the kingdom) —simple, everyday drama was usually the topic of conversation. Nothing of significance.

The only news from the outside they would get would be the few tales of a prophecy some travellers and nomads would bring up whilst visiting their village, mentions of a chosen one. Most if not all dismissed those as rumours.

Considering the bizarre situation unfolding before her, it only made sense that most of the townsfolk were quick to tie it all back to that prophecy. Aine didn’t know how it started circulating, but apparently, people outside their village had some inkling that this was going to happen. How they knew, she had no idea.

What struck her as odd, though, was the fact that no one had set up camps or prepared for this moment years ago if they really believed the prophecy would come to pass. After all, if someone was truly destined to fulfil some grand fate, wouldn’t every village, every group, want to be the one to guide the "chosen one" on their path?

Aine had always given little thought to the outside world, preferring the quiet simplicity of her village life. But with everything happening now, she couldn’t ignore the feeling that there was much more beyond the horizon, a world she knew almost nothing about.

When the body hit the ground and the crater formed, Aine was quick to react. The moment she saw the fallen figure, without a second thought, she leaped into the crater and positioned herself beside him. She used her body to form a protective barrier around him. Her sharp gaze never wavered from the stunned onlookers above her, who were frozen in shock at her sudden, decisive actions.

“No one touches this man unless we have medics or proper authority here!” she called out, her voice firm, cutting through the whispers and gasps.

She wasn’t about to let anyone get too close, especially not with so many uncertainties of what this was. Aine knew well enough how people could react in moments of panic or curiosity, and she wasn’t about to let them make things worse.

She wasn’t exactly the most popular person in the village—she was an orphan who was favoured amongst the most important family in the village. However, she was a master of Kulxi, and that gave her a certain weight in a place where everyone knew what she could do with her skills.

Aine stayed vigilant, watching closely as the local doctors carefully lifted the body and transported him to a nearby hut for safekeeping. The doctors discussed among themselves, debating whether they should notify the neighbouring villages or even other kingdoms about the strange event and consider sending for outside help.

But within the hour, the great wizard arrived. He made his presence known without hesitation, announcing to the villagers that he would take responsibility for the mysterious individual. He declared that he would act as the caretaker until he woke up, asserting control over the situation and making it clear that no one else would interfere.

That was about an hour ago. Just moments ago, having emerged from the farm, Aine’s adoptive grandfather had pushed his way through the crowd and burst into the hut where the wizard and the unconscious stranger were. It was clear he had something important to discuss with them.

Ah well she could just quiz him about it later when he is done, if the chattering of the crowd all buzzing around outside the hut could quiet down, it would make things better.

A sudden commotion broke the air, coming from the trees beyond the edges of the marketplace. The crowd quieted slightly as all eyes turned toward the source of the noise.

From the trees emerged a banner, striking against the backdrop of the forest. It depicted the image of a man, marked in red, set against a stark white background, hung on a stake. Aine had only heard stories of this group, but seeing their flag in person sent a chill down her spine.

It was the banner of those who called themselves the True Wanderers—and their self proclaimed leader, The True Wanderer.

From the trees, a weathered and battered carriage emerged, rolling steadily into the clearing. Surrounding it were men on horseback, riding in formation to guard as it moved. Whether the wagon carried an envoy from the True Wanderers or some kind of important equipment, Aine couldn’t be sure. But there was no reason to think that their leader himself would be here, was there?

One of the horsemen, leading the group, called out sharply, "Where is the chosen one?"

The villagers, sensing the authority in his voice, froze. They were uncertain how to handle the situation.

"They’re currently preoccupied," Aine answered, standing tall and facing the group of horsemen. "If you have any issues, take it up with the chief."

As soon as she spoke, the men sitting on the horses all turned to face her. Their helmets obscured their faces, making them hard to read, but their presence was imposing. They looked like warriors, silver monsters encased in their armour. The crowd grew tense, but Aine wasn’t afraid. No matter what these strangers were here for, she wasn’t about to let them disrupt the peace of the village.

The soldier leading the pack smirked and sneered, "If you knew who you were speaking to, child, you’d be on your knees begging for forgiveness."

Aine didn’t flinch. She knew of their horrid reputation, but she needed to maintain peace for as long as she could maintain it. "Well, luckily for me, I don’t give a shit. Now, you can either wait for the chief, or we can settle this another way. How do you prefer to talk, with words or with your fists?"

The horseman’s smirk deepened as he urged his horse forward. His silver armour gleamed in the sunlight, and the crowd parted to let him approach Aine.

Beside her, Robert fidgeted uncomfortably. He tugged at her sleeve, silently urging her to back down. But Aine wasn’t going anywhere—not unless these strangers had spoken properly with her adoptive grandfather first. Until then, she would stand her ground.

Before the horseman could dismount to accept Aine's challenge, a hand suddenly shot out from one of the windows of the carriage. It was a pale, gloved hand, gripping the edge of the frame as a voice drifted out, muffled by the distance.

"Let her be, do as she says. We are here to retrieve the chosen one by order of the crown. That old wizard, acting on his own again…" The rest of the sentence faded as the hand slithered back into the carriage. The horseman, with a final glare at Aine, proceeded to follow the order of the man inside the carriage and dismounted, his goal now to find the chosen one.

Right then, the door to the hut slammed open, and Aine's adoptive grandfather stepped out. A warm smile spread across his face when he saw Aine, but as his gaze fell on the approaching horseman and the ominous wagon behind him, the smile immediately vanished. His eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into his expression.

The horseman walked up to the elderly man, his steps slow but deliberate. "Are you the chief?" he asked coldly, his voice demanding.

The old man nodded, his eyes still focused on the stranger. "I am."

By way of response, the horseman’s voice took on a formal, detached tone. "By order of the crown, I am here to investigate a crime." Without waiting for a response, he marched toward the hut, knocking sharply on the door, demanding to be allowed entry. The entire village held its breath, unsure of what this meant for them, but Aine's grandfather did not flinch.

Aine stood with Robert at her side, Robert still seated on the ground, looking uncomfortable and confused. The old man then made his way to where Aine was, but the old man paid Robert no mind, his attention was firmly on Aine. "Sorry, Aine," he said, his voice tinged with regret. "I was coming out to share the good news with you, but it seems that so many other things are complicating matters... The fact that the True Wanderers are in our village is troubling. They're nothing but terrorists…"

Aine didn’t have time to respond before an even greater commotion erupted. She turned instinctively, and the carriage door swung open to reveal a figure.

A man stepped out, and Aine was struck by his regal, almost unnatural presence. He couldn’t have been much older than her, dressed in black with a cloak that billowed like smoke behind him. His attire screamed of royalty, or at least someone accustomed to command. A scar ran across his left cheek, permanently disfiguring his face and leaving only one visible eye. His left hand was covered in a glove, though there was a telltale gap in the sleeve where the faintest glimpse of a burn mark was visible.

As he moved forward, the soldiers surrounding him looked both nervous and frustrated, yet none dared to stop him. The crowd parted as he strode confidently into the centre of the marketplace, his eyes scanning everything with an almost predatory calm. The people fell silent, the air thick with anticipation, unsure of what this man was about to do.

The soldier who had been knocking on the door of the hut entered, leaving the villagers to wonder what was happening behind closed doors. All they could do now was watch the man as he approached the crater where the fallen body had been.

"Such a familiar sight..." he murmured, almost to himself, his gaze lingering on the makeshift crater where the body had landed. He tilted his head, considering the scene, before his eyes flicked back to Aine. "I would very much like to meet this visitor once my men are finished here."

He then turned to Aine, and his eyes narrowed, studying her with a sharp interest. "And you, young lady... What a brave soul you are."

Aine raised an eyebrow, unflinching. "It seems we are the same age, if I’m not mistaken, sire..."

Her adoptive grandfather winced at her bluntness, his eyes flickering with concern at her apparent lack of respect for this man, but the stranger only laughed—a low, dark chuckle that sent a shiver through the crowd.

"You’re certainly the most interesting," he said, his voice smooth but tinged with amusement. "I come with experienced men in armour, clearly seasoned in war, and yet you are the only one here who isn’t afraid. What is it that makes you so different?"

Aine’s response was calm, almost philosophical. "I do not fear what I do not understand. Fear is a distraction. If we all gave in to fear without understanding, we would be lost."

The man studied her for a long moment, a hint of admiration in his smile. "A wise answer. Tell me, what is your name?"

Aine was about to speak when her adoptive grandfather placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. His voice dropped to a whisper, urgent. "Do not say your name... I’ve heard rumours from beyond our village. Those with power outside these lands can do terrible things when they know people’s names."

Aine hesitated but obeyed, nodding slightly. The man, however, only smirked wider, seemingly delighted by her grandfather’s protective instinct.

"You are truly blessed with a caring caretaker," he said, his tone almost condescending. "You should be proud of him."

When Aine said nothing, the man sighed, as if growing bored with the silence. He paced a few steps before removing his glove, revealing the burned flesh of his left hand. The sight of the charred skin sent a ripple of shock through the crowd, and they took a collective step back.

"Now," he said, his voice cold and steady, "if the discussions inside that hut do not go well, I will personally burn this marketplace to the ground. Take it as a warning—and as retribution for the rude behaviour of this girl in front of me."

Aine felt a cold chill sweep through the crowd as the gravity of his words sank in. The horror and realization spread like wildfire. This wasn’t just any envoy from the True Wanderers. The stories she’d heard—the ones about a man leaving a trail of fire wherever he went—suddenly clicked into place.

This was no messenger.

This was the man himself. The True Wanderer. And he was standing in their village. In the flesh.

“But while we wait, let us entertain ourselves…”

The man's voice broke the tense silence, his gaze locking on Aine with an unsettling smirk playing on his lips. There was an almost predatory gleam in his eye, as if he found some twisted amusement in the situation unfolding around them.

“May I take up your offer for this dance, milady?” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He was referencing the challenge Aine had thrown at the horseman earlier, when she had dared him to face her with words or fists. Now, it seemed, he was eager to test her own resolve.

His eyes gleamed as he added, “No magic, no powers…just fists…”

The air grew thick with tension. The marketplace, once filled with hushed whispers and fearful glances, now stood completely still. Every villager watched, eyes wide with uncertainty, as the man’s words lingered in the air like a challenge.

Aine's heart pounded in her chest, and her mind raced. She cursed her situation, the weight of it crashing down on her. She hadn’t expected this. The power dynamic had shifted, and now, the man before her seemed eager to see if she had the strength to back up her earlier defiance.

She glanced quickly at Robert, who was now standing, his face pale with worry. He looked like he was about to speak, to intervene, but what could he do.

Her adoptive grandfather, too, was standing nearby, his weathered face lined with concern. His eyes flicked from the man to Aine, but he knew she couldn’t back down.

The man before her wasn't just any stranger. He was a force—one she had no way of predicting or fully understanding.

Aine took a deep breath, her muscles tensing. Her fists clenched at her sides, her knuckles white. There was no other choice now. She had no way out. No way but through.

She locked eyes with him, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside. "Fine," she said, the word slipping from her lips like a blade. "Let's dance."