Lord Vaeren: A Narrative Fiction

Gasping, crying out for oxygen, Averin lay wrapped in his sweat-soaked blankets. His hands clutched desperately at his torn clothing, ripped and damaged from his difficult training session the previous day. As further proof of his struggle, a bandage had been fastened over his chest where he was struck devastatingly. Even for a wooden sword, the blow was strong enough to tear through his flesh and smash his ribs. Perhaps it was the pain, or perhaps his fever, but something had forced his mind into a deep nightmare.

There he stood, wearing an eerily familiar set of armor, and wielding a shattered sword within his quivering hands. Everything was overbearingly heavy, including the pressure of the stars and moon watching him from above. Averin …show more content…
The broken sword slipped from his hand, sinking into the grass at his feet.
Averin Vaeren… This time, the voice put him at ease. The soft inflection of the voice whispering his name felt so familiar, yet so horrifying.
You must awaken… The current lord has been killed, and you are to take his place… “Wh…” confusion covered his face, “What are you talking about?”
Lord Vaeren of Rivena has fallen to the Val’tekan… And you, Averin Vaeren, are next in line to take his place in defeating them. “I don’t understand-” he gasped, feeling the weight of his armor increase. He fell to his knees, unable to keep himself up anymore. Do not fret, Averin… Another will come along to assist you in your task…

With a small shout, Averin was awake. His breathing was heavy and ragged, as though he had been running. He gazed forward at the wall for a time, just before redirecting his gaze to the sharp steel sword resting on the table next to him. Past the table, a mannequin was equipped with his thick leather armor. Beside it, the door to his room was wide open. Standing in the doorframe was his sister, already wearing her own armor, and rubbing the back of her head through her wavy blue