Ascension Of The Villain

"Stay here for a bit."

A five-year-old boy was huddled up in a silent cave. He could hear or feel nothing except for his own rapid breathing and heartbeat.

It was eerily scary until—snap!—a sudden pull. Rough hands dragged him from the cave's suffocating darkness as he repeatedly screamed for someone to help him.

A flash—bright lights blinded him. He blinked, disoriented, his small body now standing on a raised platform. The lights burned his eyes, making the world beyond them a blur of shadows.

Hundreds of predatory eyes bore into him. Assessing him from the audience. Fear clawed at his chest, tiny hands clenched into fists, but there was no escape. He was trapped like a mouse in a den of wolves.

A woman's voice cut through the haze, listing numbers that made no sense to him. But the cold detachment in the woman's tone made it clear: he was the object being traded, like a piece of merchandise.

Suddenly—shove—the scene shifted violently. He was in a carriage now, the door slamming shut with a final clang. The floor beneath him jolted as the carriage moved.

The man sitting in front of him grinned dubiously, while the other small boy his age was curled up beside him crying. "Do you know what I am going to do to you two?"

As the young boys responded to him with nothing but silence, he continued, "I will nicely cut you up into pieces and make—"

Panic surged in his chest. He tried hard to not focus on the vivid pictures the man painted with his descriptions. He curled into a corner, clutching his knees, trying to shut it all out when a much-wanted crash came.

The man's yapping stopped, the world tilted, and then silence. Cold, dead silence.

Struggling to rise from the ground, his small hand reached up instinctively.

Wetness. Blood.

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It dripped down his fingers, vivid and warm. He looked around, finding that man's body crushed underneath the carriage and the other boy buried under the rubbles as well. The sight of it made his stomach lurch.

The ground beneath him felt like it was spinning, pulling him down into the darkness. He tried to scream, to cry, but no sound came out—only the suffocating silence of his own terror until—

"Ah, what is this? An accident? How unfortunate," came a sweet, playful voice, which made him look up. "Oh, what a cute little boy."

The man kneeled in front of him, smiling widely. "You are hurt. Do you want to come with me, little lamb?"

"Please… save me," the little boy wept, his tears falling down his cheeks. He couldn't know that he was begging the devil dressed as an angel, that in time, he would wish for the mercy of a cannibal over the fate that awaited him in the arms of this dark savior.

"—and shine, Vyan! Wake upppp!"

Vyan's eyes snapped open, his chest heaving as if he had been drowning. Cold sweat clung to his skin, making the air feel even more suffocating. His heart raced in his chest, the remnants of terror still clinging to his consciousness.

Clyde sighed softly, shaking his head as he sat beside him. "Another nightmare?" he asked with quiet sympathy, handing Vyan a glass of water.

Vyan nodded, forcing himself upright, the sheets tangled around him like a shroud. He accepted the water with trembling hands, the cool liquid easing the parched desert that was his throat.

"What was it about?"

"I… I don't remember," Vyan murmured, his voice rough, as if the nightmare had stolen the words from him.

Clyde clicked his tongue in gentle reprimand. "You never remember your nightmares."

Vyan ran a shaky hand through his damp hair before burying his face in his palms. "But I remember the feeling… Pure terror."

Clyde perched on the edge of the bed, thoughtful. "You know, it might be your brain trying to protect you," he mused, his tone casual, but laced with concern. "Back when I worked at the Tower of Magic, my boss said this to me once, our brain shields us from the worst memories, locking them away so we can survive the pain."

"So, you are saying it's better that I forget what haunts me?"

Clyde nodded, offering a wry smile. "Some memories are better left in the dark." He stood, his voice brightening with a forced cheerfulness. "Anyway, time to rise and shine! We have got a busy day ahead."

"Five more minutes…" Vyan mumbled, sinking back under the duvet, seeking refuge in its warmth.

"Hey, none of that!" Clyde chided, tugging at the covers, but Vyan's resistance only made him chuckle. "Alright, fine. Five minutes. But if you are not up, I am still dragging you to breakfast, like it or not."

Vyan's muffled response was lost beneath the duvet, drawing another laugh from Clyde. As he headed for the door, a fleeting thought crossed his mind—didn't his former boss also mention that those buried memories have a way of clawing their way back when one least expects it?

———

As the carriage rolled to a stop near the quaint house in Ashstone, Clyde casually mentioned, "Okay, so this is our last stop." The scenery was idyllic—rolling fields, a cozy house, and the sweet smell of the countryside in the air.

Vyan stepped down, breathing in the clean air, his eyes briefly meeting Clyde's as the latter gathered a condolence bouquet in his arms. "So, this is Jenna's hometown."

"Yep, hard to believe, right? Jenna never gave the vibe of a countrygirl. Her family even runs a poultry farm. It makes sense now, doesn't it? The way she was always so enthusiastic about horses—like you."

"Hey, don't make us sound like some country bumpkins," Vyan shot back, mock-offended.

"Sure, sure," Clyde chuckled.

They walked along a narrow path towards the house when Clyde pointed out the barnyard. "Oh, look, they have such a big barn."

Vyan's gaze followed, but the moment his eyes landed on the barn's red bricks and silver tiles, the air seemed to thin.

The cozy atmosphere shattered in an instant. A cold, clawing panic seized him. His chest tightened, breath catching in his throat, and before he knew it, his one hand covered his eyes and the other hand jerked forward in an instinctive, desperate motion.

A surge of heat exploded from within him, and flames erupted, engulfing the barn in a vicious blaze.

"Vyan, what did you do? There could be someone inside there!" Clyde's voice was a distant echo, drowned in the roaring flames and the wild pounding of Vyan's heart.

Removing the hand from his eyes, Vyan stared at the inferno in horror, the reality of what he had done crashing down on him. "Oh, shit." He hurriedly moved to extinguish the fire, but the damage was already done.