The sun cast its first rays of light over the village. A usual morning would see Malora soon crest over the hills between her home and Hefka Village to shop for the day’s meals.. Today, only the wagons of early-rising merchants trod over the road leading south.

Miche grew worried, his most prominent customer nowhere. Betty and Edgar exchanged worried whispers, wondering what may have happened to delay Malora. 

A few hours later, a figure did indeed pass over the road leading into the village. Something was different though. This figure was larger, more burly. It certainly was not the sight that one would expect. Reaching the edge of town, passersby started to notice who had graced the town with his presence. 

This was most unusual. Lorn had passed through the village numerous times before, but often chose to arrange a carriage to pick him up if he saw fit to go somewhere. Never before had he taken to the village by foot after he returned from his grand quest. Really, it had been since before he was the Hero that he had spent any time in the village at all, preferring to only live on the outskirts. 

A time or two since his wedding he had gone off to slay some beast too strong for a common extermination squad, and a handful of times he visited the capital. The awestruck expression of all that he passed started a fire through the populace. Merchant stalls ceased business, gawking at the sight. Many spoke in whispers, trying to guess what happened that brought the hero here in this manner. 

He walked with purpose through the market, approaching a familiar product stand. Met with the distraught faces of Betty and Edgar, his own expression remained the same. His face had been a concern for many whom he had passed, dark and rueful. Never had the public seen the hero this way. 

Even so, the most shocking aspect of this was the bundle that Lorn carried. His child lay sleeping in his arms.

Betty was the first to break the thick silence. “Has Malora fallen ill? Is there something I can do to help while she recovers? I don’t mind doing some cooking for you all if she is resting.” Though she tried to sound strong, her voice wavered a bit as she doubted that it was as simple as that. Something seemed desperately wrong. In all her years, not even the demon invasion had filled her heart with a sense of such peril.

“........” Lorn mumbled something under his breath, so quiet that not even Betty or Edgar in front of him could hear.

“What was that? My hearing isn’t what it used to be. Let Betty lend a hand if she’s offering.” Edgar spoke boldly, seemingly oblivious to the tension that hung in the air.

A moment passed before Lorn made a move. Then, turning his face skywards. “THEY TOOK HER! THEY TOOK MY WIFE!” His voice boomed louder than a cannon, sending several nearby listeners on their rear end from surprise. Betty and Edgar took a step back, Betty placing a hand over her mouth with tears welling in her eyes.

“Who? Who could have taken her?” Edgar, somehow still able to respond after the earth shaking proclamation that was just made, put forth the words that nobody anywhere would like to hear the answer to. Whoever could take anything from the hero must have been a dire threat, and the air shivered with fear from all in attendance.

A deep foreboding tone further shook the audience to their core. “I don’t know, I aim to gather those who could help me track them down. Take care of my son while I journey to the capital. I will need to submit a call to arms.” Lorn held Lormus out towards Betty, who carefully took the bundle from him and tried to stifle her tears.

Lorn turned away swiftly and trudged away, leaving deep bootprints in the cobblestones. Stillness hung in the air, nobody able to make a move. Lorn made his way through the town, silent as death, until he reached the stables where he took the fastest horse in the village. Even with this it would be two days to the capital, but it would have to do.

The market Lorn left in his wake, cold dread silencing any further actions, sat unmoving. The first noise to be heard was the sound of a young child, stirring awake and crying out.