The Herald

He stood perfectly motionless at the water’s edge, the icy sea foam swirling hungrily around his feet and ankles. He did not flinch, utterly transfixed by the blood-red horizon that glowed ominously in the dying light. Then a gentle touch upon his back, as soft and fleeting as a summer breeze. Enkindling a tiny spark deep within his lifeless frame, fragile embers that rapidly grew into a raging inferno, thawing his frozen bones and seeping into his lifeless limbs.

Inhaling in a sudden ragged breath, the first taste of air ever to fill his lungs. His legs buckled and gave way beneath him, collapsing under a weight they did not know they carried. He fell to his knees, the frigid water now greedily consuming him up to the waist.

Again he inhaled deeply, his wide eyes reflecting incomprehension and wonder, for being tossed violently into a world he did not ask for.

With a third breath, a voice permeated all, surrounding him utterly. It emanated from the rumbling sea and the cracked earth, even the very air itself. A deafening voice spoke with such force it resounded through his entire skeleton.

“Rise, my herald.” it commanded, the words inexplicably pouring from his own lips, yet they were not his own. They echoed within his head, as though the stars themselves addressed him directly. Shakily, his legs obeyed and lifted his frame from the grasping foam.

“Go, and find someone worthy of my blessing,” decreed the voice, conviction and purpose ringing clear in each syllable. He heard these words for the first time, yet he grasped their intent absolutely and without question.

For a final time, the voice spoke, now gently. “Go, and envelop the world in my name,” it exhorted. Compelled by the voice, he stepped forward into the vast swelling ocean, the last words his ears would grasp before the inky water sealed him in silence.

Under the relentless summer sun, Jorad was sweating like a pig. Their cart jolted over another pothole, disrupting his thoughts. Garen, shaded by his hat, turned to Jorad, irritation lacing his voice. “Must we hit every bump on this road?”

“You’re always late.” Jorad grumbled, steering his cart around a particularly deep rut in the road.“The market’s bustling this time of year, and I could make some decent coin if it weren’t for you and your rotten cabbages.”

Garen simply shrugged, his focus on the road ahead. “Why worry so much? Many stalls will have sold out by now. We can easily take their place.”

Jorad clenched his jaw. Of course, Garen would be fine with this arrangement. He always was. But this would be the last time Jorad would agree to such a favor. No more.

Suddenly, Garen’s voice rang out, urgent and sharp. “Look out!”

Jorad jerked his head up, pulling his cart to a halt and his heart pounded in his chest. A naked man stood in the middle of the path, unmoving, his gaze fixed ahead.

“Whoa, man, are you alright?” Jorad called out He exchanged a glance with Garen, his irritation temporarily forgotten. This was certainly not an ordinary day at the market.

The naked man didn’t react to Jorad’s calls. Garen, still on the cart, squinted at the figure. “What’s the matter with him?” he asked, concern creeping into his voice. Jorad didn’t answer; he was too busy studying the man. His chest was rising and falling, but he was otherwise completely still, his eyes empty of any recognition or understanding.

Jorad and Garen dismounted, leaving their cart and produce behind to approach the man. But as they took their first step, the man’s lips parted. It wasn’t just words he spoke — it was as though the entire world around them had found a voice. The voice was so commanding that when he uttered the word, “Kneel,” they had no choice but to obey.

Jorad’s eyes were as wide as Garen’s, their bodies responding to the command without their consent. They knelt, their bodies frozen, their voices stolen away.

Slowly, the man started to walk towards them. His eyes remained vacant, but a sense of purpose seemed to guide his steps. Jorad felt his heart hammering in his chest, a sense of horror washing over him as the man reached Garen.

The man placed his hand on Garen’s head. Once again, his voice filled the air, the words resonating within Jorad’s frame as if the very earth was speaking to him.

“Accept the blessing.”

Garen’s resolute “No” was the last coherent thing Jorad heard before it morphed into an incoherent shriek. In the blink of an eye, Garen was no more. He exploded from the inside, as though his soul had shattered its shell and escaped. The sudden warmth that enveloped Jorad was a chilling reminder of his impending fate if he didn’t escape.

But he couldn’t move. A naked man turned to him, his hand ominously reaching towards him. Jorad closed his eyes, bracing himself. Suddenly, a voice rang out, “What’s happened here?” The naked man turned towards the source of the voice, and in that moment, Jorad was free.

Without hesitation, he bolted, needing to put distance between himself and this horrifying scene. But the strange voice echoed around him again, this time it was not directed at him. The command of “Kneel!” was so powerful it seemed to shake the very earth, but he didn’t stop. He continued his desperate sprint, the chilling command echoing in his ears.

He tripped, landing hard on the gravel, his outcry piercing the silence. Desperate, struggling to regain his footing he glanced over his shoulder; the man was nowhere to be seen. With fear as his driving force, he sprinted with everything he had left towards the village, a beacon of safety.

Sweat cascaded down Jorad’s face as he ran, each drop a testament to his terror but the sight of Eranfall’s village gates in the distance filled him with renewed hope. Upon spotting the guards stationed before the closed gate, he sprinted towards them, his voice filled with panic, “He killed Garen! Please, help me! Garen was killed!”

The guards halted him in his tracks. “Who killed him? What happened?” one demanded. Jorad took a deep breath, he needed sanctuary. “Let me in! A naked man...he killed him,” Jorad blurted out.

The guards exchanged confused glances, but Jorad continued, “The naked man was in the road. He killed him with a touch!” The guard furrowed his brow, “Did he beat him? What happened?”

Jorad didn’t have time for this. “Just let me in! He placed his hand on him and Garen...Garen exploded!” The guard’s confusion deepened; he took a menacing step towards Jorad, “What sick joke is this?”

Jorad clenched his fists, “A man killed Garen,” he pointed desperately down the road he had come from, “Just at the edge of the forest, he killed him with his hand!”

Another guard followed his pointing finger. “You mean that man?” he asked, pointing towards a figure in the distance. The naked man, now completely covered in blood, was swiftly approaching.

Jorad froze. This couldn’t be happening. Before he could fully comprehend the situation, the man’s lips moved again. His voice boomed with the force of nature, “Kneel.” Jorad, along with the guards, were forced to their knees. The command was undeniable, the power in the voice inescapable.

Jorad could do nothing but watch in sheer horror as the naked man reached the guard first. Again, he stretched out his hand, proclaiming, “Accept this blessing.” The guard screamed, his body erupting like Garen’s had, painting the world around him in a gruesome spectacle.

The naked man turned to Jorad, extending his hand. In the background, the village gate began to creak open. Salvation was near, but the man placed his hand on Jorad’s head, repeating his ominous words, “Accept this blessing.”

In a moment of desperation, Jorad decided he would not meet the same fate as Garen or the guard. He shouted with all his might, “I accept!” As Jorad accepted, a melodious voice caressed his ears, whispering, “My herald.” Surveying his surroundings, he found the entire world aglow, bathed in a resplendent light, leaving him in awe. However, soon a shadow started to creep over the horizon, threatening to devour every glimmer of light.

He rose to his feet, noticing a figure similar to himself - unmistakably a naked man. He spun around, only to find the village now shrouded in ominous shadows, menacing to engulf the remaining light. A smaller shadows loomed menacingly before Jorad, their darkness striving to envelop him. They spoke to him in an incomprehensible language, yet each syllable pulsed with a menace. Overwhelmed by the threat, he found himself crying out, “Stop!” and all the shadows froze, motionless.

Observing them, his purpose crystallized in his mind. He cautiously advanced towards the shadows. He commanded once more, “Kneel,” and all the shadows bowed to his words. They were in need of liberation from their dark form.

Reaching out, he placed his hand gently on the first shadow’s head, allowing his radiant blessing to flow from his palm. With a firm voice, he announced, “Accept this blessing.”