Chapter 57 – A Memor of the Servant

Thane leaned back, his face softly illuminated by the firelight, his eyes reflecting a distant memory. “Very well. Under this sky and by this fire, I’ll tell you the tale that brought me here by my prince’s side.”

Thane’s gaze stayed on the fire, his eyes dark with grief that time had never erased. “I was just a boy when it happened. My village lay on the western side of the border, close to the mountains that divided East from West. Then, one night, bandits from the Western region stormed in—torching our homes, cutting down anyone they caught, and taking the rest as slaves.”

He stopped, his voice faltering with the weight of the memory. “I was taken, along with others from my village. But during the journey, I slipped away. I ran until my lungs burned, until my legs gave out. By the time I was free, I had crossed into the Eastern region, far from their reach. But even then, survival wasn’t the end. It was only the start of something harsher.”

He drew a deep breath, his eyes lifting to the stars as though they held fragments of his story. “I was nothing more than a street urchin—a ghost wandering the edges of the kingdom, scrounging for scraps, stealing when I had to, just to survive for years. I learned to slip past the soldiers’ notice, but one day they caught me. They beat me senseless, leaving me at the edge of death, then dragged me beyond the city walls and threw me into a forest by a river. Bruised, bloodied, and broken, I lay there, discarded, as if my life meant nothing—left to die beneath an indifferent sky.”

A hint of gratitude softened his expression. “The pain was unbearable, but I was ready for death to claim me—ready to escape this forsaken world. I lay there broken and bleeding, waiting for death. But it never came that day. Instead, a young boy did.”

Shawn’s brow furrowed as Thane continued, his voice heavy with reverence and tinged with awe. “Prince Enthril, still a young child, found me in that forest, surrounded by a circle of elephants whose massive forms loomed like silent sentinels. I was bruised, bleeding, barely clinging to life, every breath a struggle, yet he didn’t look away or dismiss me. Instead, he approached with a calm resolve, and using one of the elephants, he lifted me, careful yet firm, as if the world itself had entrusted him with my fragile body. Then he extended his hand—small, yet steady—and offered me salvation. That single, deliberate act of kindness reshaped my existence. From that day forward, I knew my life was no longer my own. It belonged to him.”

Shawn tilted his head, intrigued. “Then, what happened?”

A faint, respectful smile touched Thane’s lips. “Prince Enthril put me on the back of the elephant and carried me to the palace. When I arrived at the palace, everyone asked him to send me back, but adamant as a child, he made sure that I was by his side.”

Thane, remembering the old days, “Then I was healed, cleaned, given food, new clothes and a new purpose.  Prince Enthril was young, still growing into the weight of his title. He saw in me not just a broken past, but potential, a chance to build something greater than the sum of my suffering. Since then, I have devoted my life to him—not merely as a servant but as a guardian, a confidant, and in many ways, his shield.”

Thane’s gaze grew distant, his tone thoughtful and weighted by something unspoken. “Prince Enthril taught me something more than life itself,” he began, his eyes reflecting the flickering firelight. “He believes that neither darkness nor light is what they seem. Darkness isn’t always evil, just as light isn’t always pure. Sometimes, for the sake of others, we must carry the burden of embracing shadows to protect those who never see them. It’s a weight—sacrificing one’s own light, a transformation that stains us, but one that shields others from harm.”

He paused, letting the gravity of his words linger, before continuing with a steady resolve. “Prince Enthril has a rare gift for seeing the light even in those of us who have been touched by shadow. To him, the darkness we carry is a shield, a role that keeps danger from touching the innocent. He taught me that the scars I bear from my past, though they weigh heavily, serve a purpose. That purpose, he says, is what makes the burden worth bearing.”

Shawn’s expression shifted as Thane’s words resonated deeply, stirring his own memories. “Light and darkness… I think I understand.” Images of his powers flashed in his mind—the times they had surged beyond his control, fierce and untamed, yet always protecting him. They had shielded him by embracing darkness, as if willingly bearing that burden so he wouldn’t have to. His gaze softened, a newfound clarity settling over him. He thought of Prince Aerion—the life he had taken, yet with a purpose far greater than he had realised. That weight he had carried, the anchor of guilt, had been suffocating. But now, in the stillness of the night, he began to see it differently, a truth emerging from the shadows that once bound him.

Shawn breathed deeply, feeling an unexpected sense of ease wash over him. He realised that he would carry this burden sensibly, channelling it into his resolve rather than allowing it to fester into a source of despair. The responsibility would still rest heavily upon his shoulders, but it no longer felt like a weight dragging him down. Instead, it became a defining part of who he was meant to be—The Guardian.

He nodded slowly, a newfound respect evident in his gaze. “Your prince is fortunate to have someone like you by his side.”

Thane inclined his head, a glint of pride in his eyes. “No, it is I who am fortunate to serve the prince. It is both my duty and my honour. To serve him is to give my life purpose, and to be trusted by him as I am… that is a bond beyond loyalty.” He gestured toward the food he had brought. “Eat well, young traveller. Rest is as essential as strength for what lies ahead.”

Shawn accepted the suggestion, his eyes meeting Thane’s with gratitude. “Thank you,” he murmured, feeling the warmth of the food and the campfire seep into him as Thane quietly rose to leave.

As Thane disappeared into the forest undergrowth, a quiet settled around Shawn, enveloping him in contemplative solitude as he finished his meal. The gentle hum of insects, the soft rustle of leaves in the night breeze, and the steady crackle of the campfire wove together, cocooning him in the sounds of the forest. Eventually, full and warmed by the fire, he lay back on the ground, his gaze lifting to the stars above, and drifted into sleep beneath the vast, moonlit sky.