As Attila and Ebren stepped out of the tavern's dim glow and into the night, the moonlight traced a silver path along the lonely trail. The chill in the air was like the silence of soldiers returning from war; deep, haunting, and alert. The ground beneath their feet was slightly damp, and the steam rising from the horses' nostrils betrayed the bite of the cold night.
As they rode in silence, Attila suddenly came to a halt. Without looking back, he spoke in a low, measured voice.
"Ebren… some of our men said they saw a few of the men who were watching you in the tavern, trailing behind us down the road."
Ebren frowned, the usual playful expression gone from his face.
"There were two men I noticed at the tavern," (he said in a cautious tone. )"But they didn't look directly. Acted like regular customers. Maybe they were… maybe they weren't."
Attila gave a slight nod.
"No. One of them sat still, but his eyes never left us. The other stood up the moment we stepped out. They thought we left them behind, but the way they're positioned in the group… it's a bit too coincidental."
Ebren looked around carefully.
"So, they're watching us... Maybe someone doesn't want us to reach Alphamos. Or maybe there's another side that knows we've been sent."
Attila stopped and gently pulled the reins of his horse to slow it down.
"A small mistake can lead to a great fall, Ebren. If there is an enemy following us like a shadow on this road, first we must find out who they are, and then how dangerous they really are."
Ebren smiled slightly, but this time his expression wasn't mocking, it carried the seriousness of a soldier before battle.
"So, first we will be the ones following them... This is getting better and better."
Attila narrowed his eyes and stared into the darkness.
"Be ready. Tonight, not only the stars but also eyes are upon us."
Suddenly, the deep silence of the night was broken by a whistle from the bushes, and an arrow hit a soldier in Attila's group right on the forehead. The man fell to the ground without a sound. At the same time, another arrow flew toward Ebren's head, but Attila acted fast; with one hand, he caught the arrow in the air and broke it in two angrily.
"We're in an ambush!" shouted Attila, and at that moment dark figures hiding at the edge of the forest began to appear one by one. Soon, Attila and Ebren were surrounded in a circle by seven or eight armed men. They were all dressed in black clothes, with their faces covered. The daggers in their hands glistened under the moonlight. Ebren reached for his sword at his waist.
"Anyone who messes with me will lose their head!" he said with a mocking but angry tone.
Then heavy footsteps were heard from deeper inside the forest. With the crackling of dry branches, about twenty more men appeared. Their armor was light but disciplined enough to show they belonged to an organized unit. The small group where Attila and Ebren stood was suddenly surrounded by a much larger group.
But there was no panic. Attila's eyes narrowed as he scanned around. He was silent but tense, like a wolf ready to attack at any moment. Ebren leaned back against Attila and whispered.
"At this hour, there shouldn't be anyone here having a picnic in the forest."
Attila slowly drew his sword.
"If that's the case, I'm afraid they're in for a beating they won't forget."
One of the men surrounding the group stepped forward, separating himself from the others. From the shadow of his hood, it was clear that he was missing one eye. His left arm was missing just above the elbow; a thick gap wrapped in leather was there instead. He held a short spear, but it seemed he was holding it more for support than to threaten.
"You… Attila," he said, his voice deep and tired but loaded with a familiar anger.
Attila furrowed his brows and pointed the tip of his sword at the man.
"If you know my name, then you know who you're dealing with. Who are you?"
The man let out a short laugh, a laugh mixed with sadness.
"I am one of the few who survived back then. From the battle in that cursed valley. I saw how you fought that night. With my own eyes... you... you were not human. I saw you crush fifty men like they were insects, all alone."
Ebren raised his eyebrows and turned his gaze to Attila.
"What battle was that?" he whispered, but there was no time to wait for an answer.
The one-armed man continued speaking.
"I barely escaped with my life that night. Many of us died. Then I fled to the capital... I couldn't make sense of what I had experienced. Until I joined the sect that reveals the truth behind the shadows. There, I learned the secrets and the stones behind everything..."
The old man's eyes sparkled. Surprise appeared in Attila's eyes. "What stones?" he asked, his voice showing genuine astonishment and a hint of fear for the first time.
The man stepped forward and continued.
"They are not ordinary stones. They symbolize power, fate, and transformation. And you..."( he paused for a moment, then went on,) "...you carry one, don't you? Maybe you're not even aware of it... but that night... that night you changed, and this world will belong to the true owner of those stones."
Attila was silent. He slowly lowered his sword but his eyes remained fixed on the man. Ebren interrupted.
"Look, my friend, we were just heading to a palace. Now there's talk of stones, a sect, old wars... have you had too much to drink tonight?"
But the man was serious—his gaze was steady and resolute.
"The stone will not remain with you. It is part of our cause. That stone changed you, but it can no longer be yours. Give it to us… or blood will be spilled."
The wind had grown fierce; tree branches clashed with a hollow clang, and dry leaves scattered helplessly across the ground.
The night grew heavy, as if cast in molten lead even the stars seemed to retreat behind a hazy sky, as though hiding from the storm to come. Attila's fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. Ebren's breath rose as mist, and without a word, he took his stance. Words were done. Now, the language of the night was silence, and the echo of darkness war. And that night, deep within the forest shadows, the path of blood and fate would be drawn.