As he turned around a corner, he could see his house, not ten feet away. His mother was lying on the ground, motionless.
“No!” he shouted. “Mother!”
Tears were running down his face as he ran through the streets towards the woman who had given him birth. His brown boots pounded on the ground as he ran. Deep down, he knew that, from this moment forward, his life would never be the same. It had already changed since the crowning of the new king, but this was different. Still, a faint hope flickered inside him that whatever injuries she sustained were not fatal.
Ing proceeded to crouch down on the ground and hold his mother up. “What happened to you?” he cried, cradling her in his arms, his voice racked by his sobs.
“When I saw the flames, I went looking for you,” she said in a soft voice. “I was worried. A guard told me not to interfere and would not let me pass. When I tried to struggle past, he struck me down and beat me viciously. I saw the look in his eyes—the feeling of power that burned in them. I was helpless, and felt my life fading with each kick and bludgeon.”
Ing’s face poured with tears as he heard her speak of this. “I should’ve been there for you. I could’ve saved you,” he screamed in desperation.
“No, Ing. It was inevitable. The fates have decided this for me. It was meant to be. I was sacrificed so that you could escape. This tyranny would have been the doom of us all, otherwise.”
“Now, listen to me,” she continued. “You must go and find your uncle, Erste. He lives in the province of Lableck. He’s a good man. Hurry, before it’s too late. You can’t save me.”
“Don’t say that!” shouted Ing. But he knew it was true. Already, Selenia’s eyes had closed. He stood there for a long while, in the midst of the eternal twilight of the night, before turning away to run. He vowed to return to Ganwin one day and save the people.
Dashing through the dark, shadowy streets, he could only pray that he did not get caught by the king’s foul guards. Each one of them carried a bamboo rod and jars of a poisonous liquid that they soaked the rods in to paralyze their opponents—a far cry from the strictly defensive tactics of the former king’s guards. Ing knew he would be a goner if he ran into one of them, so he slowed his pace.
It was quiet all around so he figured no guards were nearby, but he waited. He tried to stop breathing so heavily.
Ing could not believe how far the guards had gone. He had never seen them kill anyone before. The guards were mostly none other than the old guards, which were now forced to enact Mollish’s rule—though their numbers had increased somewhat in order to better facilitate the oppression. It made Ing feel sick that one person could corrupt and influence countless others. Was anyone safe from corruption?
Suddenly, Ing heard voices. It sounded like two guards conversing. Desperately, he made his way through a dark alley to his right. He wanted to get as far away from the guards as possible; he was twisting and turning, trying to make his way out of the village gates. He knew he was getting close and hope sprang up inside him—only to be crushed at the sight of seeing two guards posted at the gateway. He looked all around for some way to get over the gate without being noticed. He had made it this far and giving up was not an option.
A ways down to the right, Ing spotted an overhang that he could jump onto. Once on top, he clambered onto the roof of a nearby house. It was out of the guards’ vision—or so he hoped.
From the roof of the house, he leaped onto the large, brick wall surrounding his town. He was struggling to get a grip and not fall off. He could not let the guards paralyze him with their poisonous rods like he had seen happen to innocent townsfolk.
A piece of brick fell loose and crashed to the ground.
“What was that noise?” The guards started moving in the direction where Ing was hanging.
With all his might, he lifted himself over the wall and out of the town he had called his home. A feeling of discomfort overcame him as he realized that he was venturing out into the unknown—about to set foot in territory he had seldom even heard of, let alone experienced firsthand. As he dropped to the ground, he wondered if he would ever see Ganwin again.
Ing thought of how his mother had told him to head to Lableck to find his uncle, Erste. The trouble was he didn’t quite know where Lableck was. He remembered seeing it in a book when he was younger. He came to the conclusion that it lay to the east.
The days slowly passed by as Ing made his way across the land. His body had grown weak and he was unbearably thirsty, but he knew that Lableck must be drawing close. He could feel it.
In an instant, everything had changed. He was like a fugitive on the run—running from the very place he thought would keep him safe, the only place he had ever known. He began wondering if he had ever lived inside the walls of Ganwin at all. It seemed a lifetime ago. One moment, he could imagine no life outside its walls, and now he could not imagine the life he had lived; it now seemed like something he
