Chosen⚔️

A year ago, your eldest brother Eadgar was dragged off to war. He never returned. The morning mist lifts from the grove as you finish practicing with his sword. You still think of it as his. One day, you tell yourself, he’ll come back to claim it. You raise the blade to the light. Runes shimmer along the steel—brighter than you ever remember them glowing for Eadgar. He hid it well. A weapon like this must have belonged to a hero once. How a farmer’s son obtained it, he never said. A horn blares in the distance—not the reeve’s call. You sprint toward the village. Cresting the hill, you freeze. Knights thunder through the streets below, their tabards marked with the golden fleur-de-lis of Auremagne—the very kingdom Eadgar was sent to fight. The village burns. Screams pierce the smoke. Your parents stumble forward in iron shackles, herded toward wagons of prisoners. An armored knight on horseback towers above them, barking orders in a foreign tongue. You tighten your grip—then realize the truth. You’re still holding the sword. In your rush, you never returned it to its hiding place. Your sister Cynethryth grabs your sleeve, staring at the glowing runes. “What are you doing?” she whispers sharply. “They’ll kill you for a blade like that!” Below, the mounted knight slowly lifts his gaze. Toward the hill. Toward you. The runes blaze brighter in your hand.