Chapter 155: Before the Hunger — The Lord of Ruin (Part IV)
Eleven Days Until Arrival
Every story has a moment when the road divides.Most people never realize they're standing at the crossroads.
They believe the decision that changes their life will arrive with thunder, prophecy, or the roar of armies.It rarely does.
Sometimes...It begins with a knock on a door.
The Messenger
Morning mist clung to the valley as Garrick worked beside his father in the forge. The rhythmic clang of hammer against glowing steel echoed across the village, mixing with the sounds of children laughing outside and merchants preparing wagons for the thaw.
Then came the sound of galloping horses.
Three riders burst through the village gates.
Their cloaks bore the crimson stag of House Haldren, the ruling family of northern Hrafnheim.The lead rider's horse stumbled from exhaustion.The messenger nearly fell as he dismounted."Where is Elder Eirik?"
The village elder hurried forward."I am here."
The messenger handed him a scroll sealed with black wax.The elder's weathered hands trembled before he had even broken the seal.
His face slowly lost all color.
The Southern Pass
"The Frostfang Pass has fallen."
His voice barely carried across the square.
Silence.
The name alone carried weight.
The Frostfang Pass was the northern kingdom's shield.
A narrow mountain corridor where generations of warriors had stopped raiders, monsters, and invading armies.
If it had fallen...The southern valleys lay open.The messenger continued.
"Entire villages have vanished."
"No survivors."
"The Crown has ordered every settlement to prepare for evacuation."
Fear spread faster than wildfire.
Parents instinctively gathered their children.
Hunters tightened their grips on their bows.
The warmth that had filled the village only moments ago disappeared.
Council of the Village
That evening the village elders gathered inside the great hall.
A roaring fire filled the room with orange light, but it did little to warm the heavy atmosphere.
Torvald.
Freya.
Elder Eirik.
Lord Cassian.
Astraeus.
Even Auren sat quietly in the corner, listening rather than speaking.
Garrick stood near the doorway.
Too young to join the council.
Old enough to hear every word.
Cassian spoke first.
"We leave tomorrow."
"There is no debate."
"We preserve those we can."
Torvald frowned.
"And the villages between here and the capital?"
Cassian's answer came without hesitation.
"They are already lost."
Several people looked away.
Freya clenched her hands.
"They still deserve a warning."
Cassian shook his head.
"Sending riders means losing more lives."
The Weight of Leadership
Kingdoms were not governed by hope.
They were governed by mathematics.
Cassian understood that better than anyone.
"If twenty men die trying to save five..."
"...the kingdom loses twenty-five."
His reasoning was cold.
Logical.
Almost impossible to argue against.
Then Astraeus quietly asked,
"What if one of those five becomes the person who saves thousands tomorrow?"
The room fell silent.
Cassian answered honestly.
"Then we made the wrong calculation."
Astraeus nodded."And that's why people aren't numbers."Garrick's Restlessness
Unable to remain inside, Garrick walked into the snowy night.The stars shone brilliantly above the frozen valley.
Everything looked peaceful.
Too peaceful.
He found Auren sitting atop a large boulder overlooking the village.
The silver-haired boy was carving small wooden pieces with a pocket knife.
Tiny birds.
Tiny wolves.
Tiny people.
He arranged them in the snow.
"What are you making?"
Garrick asked.
"A lesson."
Auren replied.
He pointed toward the smallest carving.
"This village."
Then to another farther away.
"The southern settlements."
Then another.
"The capital."
He nudged one figure.
The others shifted slightly."See?"
Garrick frowned.
"They're connected."
Auren smiled.
"Exactly."
He looked toward the distant mountains.
"Most people think changing the world requires enormous strength."
He gently moved one tiny carving again.
Sometimes..."It only requires moving the right piece."The ChoiceThe next morning, volunteers gathered in the village square.
No order had been given.
No reward had been promised.
Yet twenty-three villagers stood ready to ride south and warn the isolated settlements.
Torvald stepped forward."So did Freya.
Several hunters joined them.
Garrick took a step forward.
His father stopped him.
"No."
"I can help." "I know."
Torvald placed both hands on his son's shoulders."And one day..."
"You'll help more people than I ever could."
"But today..."He smiled.
"My job is still protecting my son."
Garrick wanted to argue.
Instead...He embraced his father.
For reasons he couldn't explain...
He didn't want to let go.
The Wanderer's Promise
Before the riders departed, Astraeus walked among them.
He carried no sword.
Only his old staff.
"I'll ride ahead."
He said.Cassian frowned.
"Alone?" "I walk faster than horses."
Astraeus grinned.
"No."
Cassian sighed."I've learned not to ask."
Auren approached quietly.
"I'll remain here."Astraeus nodded.
"You know what to do."
"I always do."
Their conversation was short.
Yet Garrick sensed it carried meaning far beyond its words.A Shadow in the Mountains
High above the Frostfang Pass.
Hidden among shattered cliffs.
The cloaked observer from the forest watched the riders leave.
Beneath the hood,ancient golden eyes remained fixed on Astraeus.
A faint smile appeared.
"So..."
The stranger whispered.
"The Seven Stars have begun gathering."
The wind carried the words away.
No one heard them.
As the sun disappeared behind the snow-covered peaks, Garrick stood at the edge of the village.Watching.Waiting.Praying.
He didn't know why his heart felt so heavy.
Nothing terrible had happened.
Not yet.
But somewhere deep inside.He sensed that childhood had ended.The road ahead would not lead back to peaceful winters, warm fires, or simple days at the forge.
It would lead toward war.
Toward impossible choices.
Toward a darkness that would test every lesson Astraeus had taught him.
And one day...Toward the Hunger itself.
The story of Garrick Ashborn continues...
Eleven Days Until Arrival