TOR:SON OF ZELDA

The following morning, the harsh sound of the dungeon door slamming echoed through the cell, making Tor jerk his head up. He was met with two guards towering over him, their expressions stern.

"Time for your trial," one of them gruffly stated as they firmly grasped Tor's arms, roughly tugging him to his feet.

Tor's heart raced as he was forcibly led to the royal courtroom, the weight of his fate heavy on his shoulders.

Tor resisted the grip of the guards as they placed magic restraints around him. The cold touch of metal sent shivers down his spine as the chains were secured, binding his movements. Without allowing him a chance to compose himself, they pushed him into the grandiose courtroom, the weight of dread heavy in his stomach.

Among the onlookers, Rachel was there, her heart heavy with grief. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to muffle her sobs as she witnessed Tor in the courtroom. He stood there, his wrists bound in magical restraints, the weight of his situation etched clearly on his weary face.

Tension gripped the courtroom as Lord Joel burst through the doors, his voice ringing out with an air of authority.

"There will be no trial. Tor will be beheaded at the town square," Lord Joel declared, his words cutting through the air like a cold blade.

The guards, obeying Lord Joel's command, pulled Tor out of the courtroom as he struggled in their grip. His attempts to resist were in vain, their grip firm and their strength unrelenting.

The onlookers watched in horror as Tor was dragged away, his defiance against the guards' might ultimately futile.

Rachel couldn't hold back her tears any longer. Overwhelmed by grief and anguish, she hurriedly made her way out of the courtroom, following the guards with Tor in their grasp, her heart heavy with concern and despair.

She trailed behind the guards, her footsteps heavy with every beat of her racing heart. As they approached the town square, she saw the ominous guillotine standing tall and waiting, its blades gleaming threateningly under the sun.

Lord Joel sat on his podium, his gaze cold and calculating as he observed the proceedings below. Tor, his neck securely locked into the guillotine's grip, was forced to kneel before the unforgiving blade.

Rachel stood amongst the crowd, her eyes fixated on Tor's vulnerable form under the guillotine's deadly blade. A heart-wrenching wail rose from deep within her, a desperate plea for mercy that echoed through the square.

In her moment of despair, Rachel felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. Turning around, she saw Samuel beside her. Overwhelmed with grief and helplessness, she rushed into his embrace, her body shaking as she wailed in despair.

As the moment of execution was imminent, Reddrick, who had been watching the scene unfold, began to mutter an incantation under his breath: "Obscurare Nebulam, occultare vitae. Obscurare Nebulam, occultare vitae!"

Suddenly, the air thrummed with ancient magic. A dense, swirling fog materialized over the town square, enveloping everything in its thick, impenetrable embrace.

Amid the chaos and confusion, Lord Joel's commands rang out.

"Secure the prisoner!" he bellowed, his voice cutting through the enveloping fog like a knife.

The guards, confused and disoriented by the sudden mist, instinctively moved to secure Tor, their movements clumsy and uncertain in the fog's disorienting embrace.

The fog abruptly vanished, revealing the gruesome scene of the guillotine's blade cutting through the air. Tor's head separated from his body, a cruel act that ended his life in an instant. His lifeless body slumped down, a tragic consequence that left an eerie stillness in the air.

The crowd watched in horror, a collective gasp escaping their lips as the realization of Tor's execution settled upon them like a suffocating shroud.

All the sounds of the bustling square seemed to hush as Racheal's anguished wail echoed through the town. It was a heart-wrenching, visceral cry that sliced through the air, a lamentation for Tor and the injustice he had endured.

Her voice broke the silence, a painful expression of grief that seemed to echo in the very souls of those who heard it.

Lord Joel rose from his seat, his entourage of royal mages and guards trailing behind him. With a dismissive gesture, he signaled for the guards to follow him.

The crowd, still awash with a sense of tragedy, began to slowly disperse, their somber mood mirrored in their heavy footsteps.

The air was heavy with sorrow as the people of the square walked away, their minds and hearts weighed down by the weight of the events they had witnessed.

Racheal, her heart shattered, knelt beside Tor's lifeless body and clutched his severed head to her chest, tears streaming down her face. Samuel approached her, his expression heavy yet comforting, and tenderly placed a hand on her shoulder.

He said nothing, his presence alone speaking volumes of his empathy and support. He simply stood there, a silent pillar of strength for her in the midst of her grief.

Reddrick, who had been observing from afar, approached and called out gently.

"Racheal," he said, his voice soft yet firm, breaking through the haze of grief that enveloped her.

She slowly raised her grief-stricken face, her eyes meeting Reddrick's with a mixture of sadness and confusion. Samuel's hand still rested on her shoulder, a comforting presence that grounded her.

Reddrick, his gaze never leaving her face.

"You're Racheal, aren't you?" he said, his tone gentle yet sincere.

She nodded slowly, her eyes heavy with sorrow.

"Yes, I am," she confirmed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Reddrick gestured for her to follow him, his tone firm yet compassionate.

"Come with me. I need to speak with you."

Racheal looked at him with confusion, her grief momentarily overshadowed by curiosity.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice wavering.

Reddrick led Racheal away from the gruesome scene, her steps slow and reluctant. Samuel gave her a supportive nod before letting them go.

"There's something I need to show you," Reddrick said. Despite her hesitation, she followed him, her mind filled with uncertainty and curiosity.

Reddrick mounted his horse and extended his hand to Racheal, offering to help her up. Initially hesitant, she eventually took his hand and hoisted herself onto the back of the horse. Without another word, Reddrick urged the horse into a steady trot, and they rode away from the town square.

Samuel stood in the now-empty square, his mind racing with thoughts. He wondered to himself, "Where could a royal mage be taking Racheal to? And for what purpose?"

Reddrick guided his horse through the winding, wooded paths, with Racheal clinging tightly to him. They rode deeper into the woods, the shadows of the trees casting long, dancing shapes in the moonlight.

They reached their destination—a quaint, cozy cabin nestled among the trees. Reddrick dismounted his horse, then turned to offer his hand to Racheal, helping her down gently.

Racheal's eyes widened as they entered the cabin, a gasp escaping her lips. She saw a body lying unconscious on the floor, and the sight shocked her. As she looked more closely, a surge of hope and confusion rose within her.

"Tor!" she exclaimed, her voice shaking.