The foreboding streets of Mud Hollow curled before me like a dark snake. Every step felt as if the street's very foundations protested my presence. The pathways were caked with thick, heavy mud, and the only sound I could hear was the soft, crunching of mud beneath my feet.
I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched, that unblinking eyes were trained on me, waiting for me to make a wrong move.
The few people walking by couldn't stop staring, their gazes lingering on me like I was an outcast. I felt like an intruder, a trespasser in a place where I didn't belong.
I continued walking, my eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. But the darkness seemed to swallow everything, leaving me with only my doubts for company.
I strained my ears, waiting for any sound that might indicate I was being followed. And then, it came – a faint rustling sound from the alleyway to my left.
I spun around, my senses on high alert. My heart quickened, pounding in my chest like a drum. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my thoughts. I'd been in tighter spots before. I knew how to handle myself.
As the crowned prince of Eldrid, my rigorous training had prepared me for threats like this. But surely the letter wasn't a ruse to lure me into a trap?
I turned to continue walking, then I caught a glimpse of a cloak out of the corner of my eye. I glanced over my shoulder, but the darkness seemed to swallow everything in its path. I saw nothing. There was nothing to see. Just the darkness.
The air was heavy with the scent of decay and rot. The dim light of the alleyway cast shadows on the walls, making it seem as though the very darkness itself was closing in around me.
Then suddenly, I heard the sound of scuffling footsteps. My instincts immediately kicked in, and I drew my dagger just as five figures emerged from the shadows. Their faces were obscured by dark cloaks, making them all but invisible. I stood tall, feeling a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins, my dagger at the ready.
Ambushing the crown prince with five-to-one odds? Not exactly the chivalrous code they taught at the Royal Academy.
They formed a semi-circle around me and charged without warning. The first attacker swung wildly, their blade flashing in the faint light. I dodged it with ease, the movement instinctual. As I countered with a swift jab to their stomach. The sound of my dagger slicing through the air was followed by the dull thud of it striking his abdomen.
He doubled over, gasping for breath, and I spun to face the next assailant. This one lunged at me with a rusty sword, its edge glinting menacingly. I parried the blow, my dagger scraping against the sword's edge. The sound echoed through the alleyway, a harsh, metallic clang.
The smell of sweat and metal hung in the air, mingling with the musty odour of the alleyway. I could feel the mud beneath my feet, the uneven surface threatening to trip me up at every step. I danced between them, my dagger flashing in swift arcs. The only sound was the heavy breathing of my attackers and the soft crunch of mud beneath our feet.
I struck one's knee, sending them crashing to the ground with a pained yelp. Another swung a club, its heavy head whistling through the air mere inches from my face. Fortunately, I dodged the blow and countered with a slash to their chest. The sound of the club striking the ground was a dull thud, followed by his pained grunt.
I took a second and struggled to catch my breath, but a searing pain ripped through my thigh, tearing through flesh, as if the blade had sliced through muscle and bone.
I stumbled, my leg buckling beneath me, and in the same instant, I felt another blow, this one higher up, between my shoulder blades. The pain was a burning, throbbing sensation that seemed to spread through my veins like wildfire.
I arched my back, my body contorting in agony as I tried to escape the pain. The last two pressed their advantage, pinning me against the wall. My vision blurred at the edges. The gravel scraped against my back, and I could feel the cold metal of the dagger still clutched in my hand.
I spotted an opening, then I threw a swift kick, sending one stumbling back. The other raised their dagger, its blade glinting in the dim light. I caught his wrist, twisting it until the dagger fell to the ground with a soft clatter, and then I stabbed him in the heart.
The last fell, and I stood panting, my chest heaving with exhaustion. The alleyway seemed to spin around me, I could feel the warmth of my blood seeping from my wounds, a sticky, wet sensation that seemed to cling to me like a shroud.
I shouldn't have come here alone, but who were these people, and why did they want me dead?
I tried to move, to crawl away from the pain, but my body felt heavy and unresponsive. My leg throbbed, a dull, pulsing ache that seemed to grow worse with every passing moment. And my back... my back felt like it was on fire, a searing pain that seemed to pierce me to the very soul.
I knew I had to get help, to find someone to stop the bleeding, to ease the pain. But for now, I was pinned to the ground.
Was this how a future king of Eldrid was going to die? Alone, in the mud, with no one to mourn my passing?
I let out a bitter laugh, the sound echoing through the empty streets. It was a cold, mirthless sound, devoid of humour.
And then, everything went black.