The shout of an unfamiliar voice would stir anyone to full attention, and it worked for Ethan. His eyes snapped open as the shriek of anger thundered around him. His face was against the dirt, and he felt like his skin was on fire. He launched himself up, and braced his footing to face whomever it was screaming at him. He felt his heart sink into his stomach as his eyes finally made contact with the being.
"HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET IN HERE?!" The cloaked figure screamed.
"I have no idea, Rider," Ethan responded honestly.
Indeed, before Ethan stood the man that attacked him on the road. Yet, it was increasingly clear that it was now he who was infringing on this man’s privacy. He looked around quickly, hoping to get some sort of idea of what was happening.
The tent was a decent size, enough to house a bed, a large table, and a continuous wardrobe of black cloaks. The room itself was dimly lit by different torches, glowing in various shades of oranges and yellows. Everything around him seemed… loud. The walls of the tent were shaking, surely from some wind storm. He could hear shouts in the distance, and thought for a moment he must be in a camp.
“Where have you been? Everyone assumed you had found a way to go home,” the man said, turning to a table covered in an array of maps and scrolls.
“What do you mean?” Ethan asked.
“Abraham took you to the tree, and you disappeared. What did you find, child?” The man said, shuffling through the paperwork.
Ethan thought for a moment. His memory seemed to have stopped once he touched the sword. Where was the sword? He had no idea how he got here, and what happened to the weapon. Before he could think, everything changed.
Rider spun around with a sword of his own in his hand. He rushed Ethan with it raised above him and swung it down hard. Instinctually, Ethan raised his hand up to attempt to block the blow. He was instead shocked to find his sword stop the movement of Riders hit, and a feeling of understanding wash through him.
Beyond understanding, it was… power. He knew this sword, and he knew how to use it. Rider and Ethan leaned into the force of the two weapons crushed together. Rider's face was twisted in shock and anger, while Ethan grit his teeth in determination. He pushed back against Rider, forcing him away from them.
“The tree granted you the weapon? How preposterous,” Rider exclaimed in a breath.
“That’s not all it gave me,” Ethan said, his eyes narrowed.
There was a feeling within Ethan that was foreign, and he couldn’t even attempt to put words to it. It was a mixture of power, righteousness, and fulfillment. The only term that could come close in his small human mind was purpose. It felt incredible. Everything in his life that let him down, the opportunities he passed up out of fear, the nagging in his spirit about his future… all of it seemed to have dissipated.
More than purpose, he now had an understanding. The ring that he thought was an old woman’s curse chose him to be a protector, a leader. He could see the fight in his mind. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, beckoning him to take action. The people here needed him, even if they did not know who he was. Even more honestly, Ethan needed this, a moment of reprieve from a stagnant life.
He launched himself forward and once again crossed blades with Rider. The swords clanked and echoed out from the small tent. While Ethan could feel the power within him, Rider too felt strongly about his cause.
“You do not understand what you are facing. You know no power like what I hold,” Rider said as he thrust the blade past Ethan's skull.
“Yes. But, you do not understand a lifetime of apathy being doused in purpose,” Ethan responded, surprised by his semi-eloquence.
“Your blood will stain the ground here,” Rider remarked.
The swords thundered once again, and Rider pushed forward with a better foothold. Ethan stumbled for a moment, the sword nearly falling from his hand. In an instant, he could feel the searing pain as his foe's blade crossed over his shoulder. It was more than a cut, and he could feel the blood pooling and drip down his arm. His pride welled up and turned him to rage. He kicked into Rider’s knee with all he could muster, and listened for the crack of bone before the scream.
“Aghhh! You petulant child!” Rider called out.
Ethan leaned back on one leg and kicked Rider hard in the chest, causing him to stumble backward and out of the tent. In a shaking rage, Ethan stepped through the now-open doorway. He paused for a moment, letting the sunlight hit his eyes. His breath was caught short as he realized where he stood. On the edge of a plateau, this small tent stood surrounded by nothing. However, it wasn’t the realization of height that caused him to fall to his knees.
Below the cliff, he could see the bodies of two armies scattered in all directions. Further, in the distance, he could see the fighting continuing.
“Don’t you see? You are already too late. The war has already started,” Rider said, stumbling forward as he grasped his injured leg.
“How long was I gone?” Ethan said in exasperation.
“Over a month. You’ve failed them all. The Illgain has nearly finished them off,” Rider said proudly.
“It isn’t over yet,” Ethan said, pushing himself up. He looked out onto the battlefield and grasped the hilt of his sword tighter. A purple hue covered it, followed by a strong electric blast. Ethan turned and faced Rider, and kicked the man’s sword over the edge of the cliff. He grabbed him by the cloak and dragged him up so that they were face to face.
“Take me to the Illgain,” Ethan said as he grit his teeth.
“Happily,” Rider smirked.