The village was extremely quiet that morning, one that did not feel like peace. Right as the sun began to rise, an army of soldiers marched into the forest.
At the front of the procession was the Enforcer.
A towering figure, his presence alone commanded obedience. The mask he wore concealed the whole of his face except his eyes. It was cold, assessing, merciless. At his side, draped in ceremonial robes, was the Chief Priest, his staff stomping against the ground with each step. An embroidery of symbols was embedded into his garments symbolizing him as the voice of the gods, the keeper of order.
They had come for Damaine.
Dragolina's heart pounded as she stepped outside, the hush of the village pressing against her ears. The Enforcer's gaze swept over the gathered crowd before settling on the dark silhouette near the trees.
Damaine stood there, unbound but already condemned.
"You will come with us," the Chief Priest announced, his voice steady, unshaken. "By decree of the elders, you are to be taken to the shrine, where the gods shall decide your fate."
Damaine did not speak. He did not move.
The Enforcer took a step forward. "Do not resist," he warned.
The air grew thick, with every villager holding their breath. They all expected Damaine to lash out, to fight like the beast they had painted him to be. And for a moment, it looked as though he might.
His muscles tightened, his fists clenched.
Then the guards advanced, moving in unison like a tide crashing toward him.
Damaine struck first.
The nearest soldier barely had time to raise his weapon before Damaine's fist connected to his jaw, making him fall to the ground, face flat. The next guard lunged, but Damaine dodged his punch, striking back. He did not back down, fighting like a man with nothing to lose.
Dragolina's breath caught as she watched him, untamed, fighting against fate itself. Notwithstanding, he was outnumbered. It was only a matter of before they send him lying on the ground. She thought.
A blow landed against his ribs. Another struck his shoulder.
Still, he did not fall.
Until the Enforcer moved.
With terrifying speed, he crossed the distance, his armored fist slamming into Damaine's gut. The impact stole his breath, his strength, and finally… his resistance.
The guards seized him, iron cuffs locking around his wrists. Blood trickled from his lip, but his eyes still burned with defiance.
"No!" Dragolina rushed forward, reaching for him. "You can't take him!"
Strong hands pulled her back, keeping her from throwing herself between them. She fought against them, but they held firm.
Damaine turned his head, his gaze finding hers through the chaos. And in that moment, as they dragged him away, she saw something in his eyes that made her chest ache.
Not fear.
Not anger.
But something far worse.
Resignation.
As if, deep down, he had always known this moment would come.