The next morning, he awoke, still on his knees at the foot of the battle. He was still reeling in shock. Karn was dead. The hollows were dead. Everything was on fire. Riven might have been slightly hazy, but still, there was not a sound to be heard. As if where he stood was closed off from the rest of the world.
All around, in a space spanning for over a quarter mile, the ground was charred. Blackened. All crops and livestock gone, lost amidst the heat of their battle. Nothing remained of the hollow, there was no evidence they had existed in the first place.
Karn had died, taking the foul beings with him to the grave.
Gone.
A dim warping sound brought him back to reality, grounding him. Above him, the barrier that had protected them for so many years started to fade. Chunks vanished, but it held up, as if it were clinging to something. Held in place and prevented from vanishing completely.
His eyes grew wide as he took in the scene surrounding him, the wasteland. No longer was his property inhabitable; future owners would be lucky to grow a single tuft of grass centuries later. The soil was rendered inert and infertile.
Beyond the great barrier, there was a silhouette of a being. A being so devilish it paralyzed Riven with fear. Standing thousands of meters high, it could be seen from miles away.
Hell on earth.
That was the only thing he could imagine, where demons walked rampant, ravaging as they went. What Karn, his father, had kept hidden from the whole of the town and him.
Gore dripped down the side of his thigh, coming from the wound he had gotten in his thigh. Cleaning the wound would have to suffice, it was not his priority.
He turned; there were other matters to attend to. His heel dug into the ground as he wrapped his arms around his father. With a heave, he slung him onto his back and started trudging back towards the house. He would have to bury him.
Every step was a burden, all hundred and sixty pounds of him bore on his back. It took him close to an hour to close the distance that he was able to run in a tenth of the time. Covered in sweat, he entered his house and placed his father on his father's bed. By now, his skin had gone cold.
He grabbed a shovel and, upon finding a spot in his yard, began digging. One shovel at a time. He furiously dug, fueling his anger. After many hours of difficult work, he stared at the hole beneath his teared up vision. Just large enough to fit his father and cover him with fresh soil.
He walked back to the house, and with a groan, shouldered his father. By the time he reached the burial site, sweat fell from his face.
Riven lacked a surplus of money, which left him with no options for a tomb or anything of the such. Karn would have to be content with being covered by dirt. Laying his father in the crude hole, he grabbed his shovel and started to replace the dirt that had been dug out.
He took a small slab of stone and engraved his father's name with a thick knife. Karn. This was enough to render the day over for Riven, he was drained of all energy.
His knees wobbled as he attempted to stand and gave out under the pressure. He turned his sight to his legs, which, to his horror, were ravaged. The skin, scalded off of his right leg, red flesh brightening under the sun.
Grunting as he stood, he made his way back to the house, treading on a single leg all the while. Quickly, he bandaged up his leg, putting a generous ointment on it. When he was satisfied with how he had dressed his wound, he left the house.
He did not expect, however, the sight he would witness.
***
Riven, now nearing the town, stared at the abundance of houses and shops. It was about one and a quarter leagues while walking, taking just over an hour to reach his destination when keeping an even pace. "A cold drink would suit me nicely," he coughed, the humidity of the day taking its toll.
Reaching the foot of the local bar, he entered. The town bartender, Gordian, stared for a second and then spoke to him, "Kid, are you even old enough to drink?"
Pftt, doubting my age.
"I assure you I am, and I hold my liquor fairly. Though if you would like to test that, I will oblige." Riven said, giving a friendly chuckle.
Gordian squinted for a second before parting his lips and releasing a loud, hearty laugh, "Ha-ha-HAHAHA, you've got some wits about you. Whadda ya want?"
"Give me a house beer; of course, freshly brewed," Riven said, unsure of what they had.
Getting serious all of a sudden, Gordian stared straight into his soul.
"Karn's boy knows what is good here in town. Though I have not seen you before, I would recognize his son anywhere." Without giving Riven a chance to respond, he disappeared into the back, fetching his drink.
What?
He knew my father?
This utterly baffled him, he hadn't noticed the semblance between him and his father. And who could this man be, one who knew his father? It seemed there was more to the story than was let on.
Gordian returned, and Riven stared curiously before saying, "You knew my father?" He then took a drink, cold liquor refreshing his dry throat. "How?"
"Sure, I knew him. He was well known in these parts of town; for better or for worse is up to you. He left quite a statement the last time he came and drank a wee bit too much, all sorts of trouble he caused. Tell me; how is he?"
"Trouble? My father? I think we knew two different people!" He clenched his fist, "His well-being is the reason I am here."
Dropping his voice to a low whisper, he continued, "I guess you could say he is unwell, believe it or not, we encountered some strange beings on the farm." He paused, sniffling, "I buried him yesterday."
"WHAT!" Gordian shouted, before catching himself and calming down, "That man was strong! How many did you see?" He continued, "The Karn I knew would not fall to a few strange beings, unless they were hollow."
He sighed, "Yes, and he vanquished four before passing. It was quite a spectacle, but I wish it had never occurred."
"Wow. My dear friend." He let out a choked sob, "At least he went out with a bang, I couldn't imagine a more fitting end to Karn the Executioner."
The executioner?
Riven could not even fathom what he had done to earn that title. However, after what he had seen, it was indeed fitting.
"That fits indeed," he said. "And how did you know him? I haven't been told that piece of information yet."
"Why, we were friends during a battle. He saved my life once, y'know, and I wouldn't ever forget it. Let me tell you a secret," he leaned in close and his voice dropped, "He was powerful, powerful beyond reason. So much so his ambitions were far too mellow."
He continued, "Well enough of the sad talk! I imagine you have a reason for making the way down here?"
"Yes, everything but the house is destroyed, so I need supplies. I'll be more dependent on the town, so it would be better to start living here." He closed his eyes for a quick second, as tears appeared in his eyes.
"That'd be a good idea, it is tough living by yourself as a boy. If you need help, come to me. I may not be as strong as Karn, but my strength will do just fine."
"I a-appreciate your goodwill." Riven downed the last of his drink and passed him a coin, "I should be off then, I've many things to do today."
Gordian pushed the money back into his hands, "You're goin through a rough time as it is, keep your money. Just come back sometime."
"I will, expect me in the future." With that, Riven took one last look around and left, the sun was still high.
As he was leaving, the words Gordian had spoken hung over in the silence. It had been difficult for him to keep his emotions under control; many times he wanted to just let loose and wail. But he knew better than to cause a scene, he needed a peaceful transition to town life, and such a scene would not do.
As he walked, he could feel the stares, piercing him, staring straight into his soul. "Karn's boy" one of the villagers whispered. "His father…" said another. Riven could feel their disdain, though he could not understand it.
What did he possibly do for such rumors to spread?
Looking around, a shopkeeper hurriedly closed the doors and blinds of her shop, and the people walking strayed to the side.
Is there something disturbing about me?
Or is it my father?
The people must have heard the words he had exchanged, superstitions were rampant, it seemed.
He noticed a small butcher, and hurrying before he could cast their doors shut, he entered. Immediately, the butcher gave him a vicious side-eye, a most unfriendly welcome. It was a facade.
"Welcome… my name is Bord lazy were my parents. I wonder if they were bored." His expression changed, "AHAAHAHAAHAHAHAA, do ya get it? AHAHAA haa. Quite the comedian, ain't I? What need you, lad?"
Grinning Riven said, "I need some basic meat, enough to last a week." He procured a small sack and set it on the counter.
"I'll fetch that right away." He turned to his workstation, busily hacking away at chunks of meat, preparing what Riven needed. "You look like you've got a story, eh?"
Riven started, "I—"
Interrupting him, Bord said, "Wasn't a question. Everyone always has a story to tell, but I don't wanna hear it. I'm not that bored!"
He broke out into another fit of laughter, and Riven, unable to help himself, joined him. Bord grabbed the sack and, with enough meat to fill it, did so. "That'll be eight coins."
Riven reached into his pocket and procured the coins. "Some people've been quite," he paused, "unfriendly to me, I'm glad to've met you. I will be back in the future."
"Oh, they'll open up once they meet'cha, don't take it too hard, they're just cautious. Run along now, I can tell ya ain't from around here and it'll be dark soon."
Well, that was refreshing… ha!
With a wave, Riven turned and left, having accomplished what he needed to for the day. He started on the way back, dragging his feet every step of the laborious action. Walking for over an hour, his house finally came into view.
He stood at the doorway of his room, tearing up at the thought of the events of the past day. Even now, Karn's legacy was haunting him, pervading his very being, shaping and affecting his actions as he went about his life.
It was the realization that his father might have done something differently that stung him most, bringing fears about his inadequacy to light. His over-arching exhaustion from the day won out—Riven silently drifted into a bitterly peaceful sleep.