The Hunt
“She’ll try the docks!” barked a gravelly voice in the distance. Sarai stiffened. It was the voice of Captain Victrane, a man whose cruelty rivaled the empire he served. She knew his type—zealous to a fault, his loyalty to the crown nothing more than a mask for his ambition. She could almost picture him now, his heavy brow shadowing hungry eyes, his plate armor clinking with every step he took. He was close.
Sarai exhaled through her nose, steadying the flutter of fear that threatened to take root. She tightened her grip on the lantern and began to slip deeper into the labyrinthine streets of Mirada City, a warren of decrepit buildings and cobblestone roads that seemed to snarl like the teeth of a starving wolf. The city once thrived, back when the oceans neighboring it were blue rather than poisoned black. Now, it rotted beneath the weight of its empire's greed, its people shadows of their former selves.
Her foot caught on a jagged cobble, and she stumbled, though not fall. A flash of memory sliced through her resolve: a whispered plea, her mother’s voice, “The heart knows, Sarai. Trust it, even when all else falls apart.” Her mother’s face faded just as quickly, replaced by the cold, lifeless stare she wore when the Empire executed her. A traitor’s death for sheltering one who dared question the old gods' disappearance. That lantern—the very one Sarai now carried—had been her mother’s one hope. Fate, it seemed, had passed the weight to her daughter.
The Lantern’s Song
The lantern flickered, its glow rippling softer for a breath, almost like a shiver. This wasn’t the first time it felt alive beneath her touch, like the heartbeat of something immense. It sang to her, not in words, but in feathery strokes across her thoughts. They will betray you. The notion slivered into her mind unbidden but carried the weight of inevitability. Who “they” were, exactly, she still wasn’t certain.
Finally, she reached the old pier. The scent of decay and saltwater hung thick in the air. Derelict ships swayed on the tides like corpses in a dance. Her getaway vessel was humble, a fishing skiff with patched sails that bore little faith against the storm-heavy skies. But it would have to do. The lantern demanded the sea, and Sarai had long since given up questioning it.
A sound like iron on iron jolted her. Victrane’s men had found her faster than she anticipated. They fanned out along the docks, sharp-eyed and ravenous for glory. Her pulse quickened; she knew she had mere moments before they spotted her.
“I know you have it, Sarai,” Victrane’s voice roared over the din of waves. “You’re playing with powers none of us understand. The Lantern has already promised you pain... Let us take it, and we’ll give you a clean death.”
Sarai couldn’t suppress a bitter laugh. The empire’s mercy was a blade turned inward. “A tempting offer, Captain,” she muttered under her breath, securing the lantern carefully in her satchel. She lowered her hood and darted toward the pier, where a rotted plank bridge jutted toward a lonely rowboat tied slack to a post.
The Choice
A crossbow bolt whizzed past her ear, snapping into the wooden beam ahead with a savage thwack. Shouting erupted in the distance. Victrane’s men weren’t interested in mercy any longer.
“Stop her!” roared Victrane again. His towering frame emerged from the fog, his sword raised like a symbol of righteous fury. The brass sigil of the Empire gleamed dully on his armor, already slick with mist. Another bolt streaked through the air, lodging itself into the beam inches from Sarai’s hand.
Determination hardened her face. She reached the rowboat and sprang into it with feline grace. Her hands moved with practiced speed as she cut the mooring line and shoved the craft away from the pier. The boat groaned under her weight as it was carried by the gentle pull of the tide.
Then came the light.
The lantern, as if sensing the urgency of its keeper, blazed with an intensity that swallowed the night. Silvery rays shot outward, creating a faint dome around Sarai and the vessel. The Imperial soldiers skidded to a halt in uneasy apprehension, their weapons momentarily forgotten as they shielded their eyes.
Sarai could feel the lantern’s song more clearly now—a hum vibrating through her bones, carrying fragments of knowledge, of forgotten worlds and untold histories. She understood its message: The empire’s hands are bloodied. But your choice will decide if they stay that way.
From the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow break the light’s barrier. Victrane, stubborn and reckless, pressed forward, his face twisted in defiance of both mortal fear and the unknown. The lantern burned brighter, almost as if daring him to come closer.
“Do you even understand what you hold?” he snarled, his blade reflecting the argent light.
Sarai didn’t answer. She looked into the lantern’s swirling glow and whispered, “Do we leave them to rot, or do we try to save them?”
The lantern pulsed—once, twice—and then flared so brightly that the entire world was consumed in its radiance. Sarai didn’t know if her boat floated onward or sank to the bottom of the poisoned sea. She only felt the warmth of the light and the faint whisper of her mother’s voice:
“Trust your heart.”
Genre: Dark Fantasy/Adventure
The Source...check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: The Ultimate Mantra for When You Feel Overwhelmed or Stressed
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