Chapter 6 Amazon

CHAPTER 6

Galen sat in front of the crackling fire inside the barn, his eyes fixed on the flames as he struggled to process the weight of Stefan's words. He was on the run, pursued by the Empire's agents, all because of his Gifts - Gifts he had possessed for barely a week, and had no idea how to control.

He gazed down at the dampener chain on his wrist, his fingers toying with the idea of loosening it. But he knew better. Stefan had warned him that removing the dampener would only serve to draw more attention to himself.

Forcing his mind away from the dampener, Galen's thoughts turned to Xanthos and Archivist Orion. They were likely captives of the Empire by now, imprisoned and at the mercy of the ruthless Imperial agents.

Galen's anger simmered, his fists balling in impotent rage. He felt a deep sense of responsibility, a burning need to free his friends and take down the Empire that had taken them. He swore to himself, his voice barely above a whisper, "I'll free them. I'll find a way, no matter what it takes." The fire crackled and spat, casting flickering shadows on the walls as Galen's determination hardened into a fierce resolve.

As Galen lay down, his mind continued to seethe with anger and determination. The Empire's relentless pursuit of him, the murder of his parents, and the capture of his friends had ignited a fire within him that burned hotter with each passing moment. He was convinced that the Empire would stop at nothing to crush him, to take away everything he held dear.

Galen's thoughts turned to the map that Archivist Orion had given him, the one that supposedly led to the Rebel Kindred. He knew that finding them would be a long shot, but he had to try. He owed it to himself, to Xanthos, Elara, and Archivist Orion.

As he lay there, his eyes fixed on the darkness above, sleep seemed to taunt him, refusing to come. His mind was a maelstrom of emotions, his thoughts racing with plans and strategies, his heart burning with a fierce determination.

It wasn't until the dead of night, when the silence was almost palpable, that Galen's eyelids finally began to droop. His breathing slowed, and his thoughts grew cloudy, as he drifted off into a fitful sleep, haunted by visions of the Empire's cruelty and his own burning desire for vengeance.

As Galen slept, his mind remained a battleground, with visions of the Empire's atrocities and his own thirst for revenge warring for dominance. He was haunted by the memories of his parents' murder, Xanthos's betrayal, and the capture of his friends.

Suddenly, Galen's eyes snapped open, and he sat up with a start. His heart was racing, and his breathing was labored. He looked around, disoriented, and slowly realized that he was still in the abandoned barn.

As he struggled to calm his racing thoughts, Galen noticed something peculiar. The barn was quiet, except for a faint rustling sound coming from the corner. He turned his attention to the noise and saw a small piece of parchment on the ground, partially hidden by a stack of hay.

Galen's curiosity was piqued, and he carefully got up to investigate. As he approached the parchment, he saw that it was a crude map, seemingly hand-drawn. The map appeared to be a section of the same map that Archivist Orion had given him, but with additional markings and symbols.

Galen's mind began to racing with possibilities. Who could have left this map, and what did the markings mean? He knew that he had to decipher the map's secrets if he was going to find the Rebel Kindred and exact his revenge on the Empire.

With newfound determination, Galen carefully folded the map and tucked it into his pocket. He knew that he had a long and perilous journey ahead of him, but he was ready to face whatever challenges lay in store.

As Galen emerged from the abandoned barn the next morning, the worn leather strap of his short sword digging into his neck, he set off with renewed purpose. Though the likelihood of encountering slavers this far from the Empire was low, caution had become his guiding principle. With a clearer sense of direction, he quickened his pace, his feet carrying him swiftly through the dense underbrush. The absence of a horse weighed heavily on his mind; the journey would be significantly faster with a mount.

Galen's hand dipped into his pack, producing a stale piece of bread and a wedge of dry cheese. He ate as he walked, his mind preoccupied with the need to replenish his provisions. His food wouldn't last forever, and the prospect of facing the unforgiving wilderness without sustenance was daunting.

Lost in thought, Galen neglected to survey his surroundings. The hand holding the last morsel of bread froze, inches from his mouth, as his gaze fell upon a disturbing scene. Tied up men and women, their faces etched with the struggles of captivity, were scattered throughout the forest clearing. Galen's breath caught in his throat. Slavers. And, by some cruel twist of fate, he had stumbled onto Imperial roads.

Fear propelled him into action. Galen spun around, intent on backtracking and escaping detection. A silent prayer to the Twelve echoed in his mind: Let none of these slavers have seen me. The plea was still forming on his lips when two arrows snapped into place, aimed directly at him from opposing sides.

Galen's eyes widened as he froze, the bread still clutched in his hand. He was surrounded, and the slavers had him in their sights. He slowly raised his hands, palms facing outward, in a gesture of surrender.

The two archers, dressed in worn leather armor and sporting cruel grins, took a step closer to Galen. One of them, a burly man with a thick beard, spoke in a voice that sent shivers down Galen's spine as he sighted the chain on Galen's wrist.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? A Gifted. You're a long way from home, boy. What's your name?"

Galen hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But before he could respond, a voice rang out from behind the archers.

"Wait! Don't harm him. I want to see him."

The archers exchanged a glance, then stepped aside to reveal a figure emerging from the trees. Galen's heart sank as he recognized the symbol on the figure's cloak – the emblem of the Imperial Slavers' Guild.

The figure, a tall, imposing man with a scar above his left eyebrow, approached Galen with a calculating gaze.

"Ah, yes. . My name is Ryker, boy. I'm sure Emperor Alyaz will pay a hefty price for a Gifted boy. You'll fetch a handsome price, I'm sure."

Galen's mind racing, he knew he had to think fast. He couldn't let himself be taken captive, not now, when he was so close to finding the Rebel Kindred. He glanced around, searching for any opportunity to escape.

Fury seared Galen's heart, fueling a desperate resolve. He had not come so far only to be handed over to the man he was escaping from. Clutching the dampener, he knew his options had dwindled to one: freedom or a fate worse than death. With a swift motion, he retrieved the key from his pocket and unlocked the chain, releasing the dampener's grip on his wrist.

Ryker's command to open fire seemed to slow time itself. Galen dodged the twin arrows with instinctive ease, his eyes blazing orange as his powers burst forth unbridled. The air around him electrified, as if the very fabric of reality was being reshaped by his fury.

Slavers closed in, but Galen stood firm, his body aglow with an inner fire. Flames erupted from his shoulders, encasing his arms in a fiery aura that danced across his skin without leaving a mark. His clothes remained untouched, as if the fire was an extension of his being. With a fierce cry, Galen unleashed a torrent of flames, engulfing the slavers and transforming the surroundings into a roaring inferno.

As the flames engulfed the slavers, Galen felt his powers raging out of control. The fire danced across his arms, a fierce orange glow that seemed to pulse with his heartbeat. He stumbled backward, overwhelmed by the sheer force of his abilities.

Ryker, the slaver leader, emerged from the chaos, his face twisted in a snarl. "You're a monster!" he spat, drawing a dagger from his belt.

Galen's response was instinctive. With a flick of his wrist, a blast of flame shot toward Ryker, sending him stumbling back. The slaver leader crashed to the ground, his clothes ablaze.

As the inferno raged on, Galen knew he had to escape. He turned to flee, but his feet felt heavy, as if rooted to the spot. The flames seemed to be drawing energy from him, leaving him weakened.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the trees, a hood pulled over their head. "Galen, come on!" they shouted, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the blaze.

Galen stumbled after the mysterious figure, his vision blurring. Who was this person, and why were they helping him? He tried to ask, but his voice was hoarse from the smoke.

As they fled into the forest, the roar of the flames grew fainter. Galen's rescuer finally stopped, pushing back their hood to reveal a shocking surprise.

Galen's eyes widened as he took in the lady's striking features. Her raven-black hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of night, and her piercing emerald eyes sparkled with warmth. The intricate, curved blades at her hips and the supple leather armor that hugged her athletic physique only added to her formidable presence.

"Y-you're an Amazon," Galen stuttered, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that a legendary warrior from the mystical islands of Themyscira stood before him.

She chuckled, her smile deepening. "The one and only. Name is Lyria," she said, her voice husky and confident. "And you, boy, are quite the firebrand. Literally." She laughed, her eyes glinting with amusement.

Galen's face flushed as he realized he was still staring at Lysandra in awe. He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. "It's just that I...I've never seen an Amazon before," he admitted, feeling a bit like a starstruck child.

Lysandra's expression softened, and she took a step closer to Galen. "I'm honored to be your first," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of mischief. "Now, tell me, Galen, what's a young man with powers like yours doing in a place like this?"

Galen's frown deepened as he asked, "How did you know my name?"

Lysandra smirked, her eyes glinting with amusement. "I'll tell you later," she teased, her voice husky.

Without another word, Lysandra turned and began walking into the forest, Galen falling into step beside her. As they walked, Galen recounted his tale of woe, telling Lysandra about the First File's ambush on his camp, and how he'd barely escaped with his life. His voice cracked as he spoke of Xanthos, his friend who hadn't been so lucky.

Lysandra listened intently, her expression somber. When Galen finished, she let out a soft sigh. "Few have ever escaped the Emperor's wrath," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

For a moment, Lysandra hesitated, as if she was about to reveal something. But before she could speak, Galen asked, "What brings you so far from home?"

Lysandra's gaze snapped to his, and she swiftly changed the subject. "Your bracelet is glowing blue," she said, her voice light. "It looks lovely on you."

Galen's confusion deepened as he glanced at his wrist, only to find the dampener locked back in place.

Galen's eyes widened in shock as he stared at the dampener, his mind racing with questions. "How...how did this get back on my wrist?" he asked, his voice laced with a mix of confusion and alarm.

Lysandra's smile faltered for a moment, and she looked away, her eyes scanning the surrounding forest. "Must have been a lucky coincidence," she said, her tone light, but Galen detected a hint of evasiveness.

Galen's gaze narrowed, his mind working overtime to piece together the events. He remembered taking off the dampener before unleashing his powers, and he was certain he hadn't put it back on. Which meant...Lysandra must have done it. But why?

He looked up at Lysandra, his eyes searching for answers. But her expression was serene, her smile back in place. "Shall we continue on our way?" she asked, her voice innocent.

Galen hesitated, unsure what to make of Lysandra's actions. But something about her demeanor put him at ease, and he decided to let the matter drop...for now. "Yeah, sure," he said, falling into step beside her.

As they walked, Galen couldn't shake the feeling that Lysandra was hiding something from him. But he also sensed that she was trying to protect him, though from what, he had no idea. The mystery surrounding Lysandra only deepened, and Galen found himself drawn to her, despite the secrets she kept.