1. Chapter One 2. Chapter Two 3. Chapter Three 4. Chapter Four 5. Chapter Five 6. Chapter Six 7. Chapter Seven 8. Chapter Eight 9. Chapter Nine 2
Written By Keith Ssemugenyi Based on the Screenplay Written by Keith Ssemugenyi and Grace Newman 1
The ancient city of Ashen, nestled within the heart of a dense forest, is steeped in a rich history of both prosperity and turmoil. The city's origins date back to a time when it was a thriving center of trade and culture, known for its intricate stonework and narrow cobblestone streets. However, the city's fortunes took a dark turn with the rise of the Ashen Lord, a tyrant whose reign plunged Ashen into an era of oppression and fear. The city's once vibrant walls now bear the scars of conflict, and its citizens have endured the weight of the Ashen Lord's tyranny. Despite its troubled history, Ashen remains a place of resilience, with its people bound by the courage to resist the forces that seek to extinguish their light. Geography and History of Ashen The ancient city of Ashen, nestled within the heart of a dense forest, is steeped in a rich history of both prosperity and turmoil. The city's origins date back to a time when it was a thriving center of trade and culture, known for its intricate stonework and narrow cobblestone streets. However, the city's fortunes took a dark turn with the rise of the Ashen Lord, a tyrant whose reign plunged Ashen into an era of oppression and fear. The city's once vibrant walls now bear the scars of conflict, and its citizens have endured the weight of the Ashen Lord's tyranny. Despite its troubled history, Ashen remains a place of resilience, with its people bound by the courage to resist the forces that seek to extinguish their light. 3
The sun hung low in the sky, casting an amber glow over the horizon as Gideon and his son, Red, made their way through the winding paths of the ancient forest. The air was thick with the scent of pine and earth, the sounds of nature weaving a comforting lullaby around them. Gideon, a man of weathered skin and stern features, walked with the ease of someone who had long become one with the land. His hands, calloused from years of hard labor, gripped the fishing rods slung over his shoulder. Beside him, Red, a boy no older than twelve, followed in his father’s footsteps, clutching a basket filled with the day’s catch. The forest path began to open up, revealing the small village that nestled within the heart of the Ashen City. Ashen, with its ancient stone walls and narrow cobblestone streets, was a place that time had seemingly forgotten. The village, though modest, was a testament to the enduring spirit of its people, who had weathered countless storms and invasions, yet remained steadfast in their roots. As they approached the village, the faint sound of laughter and conversation drifted through the air. The villagers were gathering at the center, preparing for the evening meal. Elena, Gideon’s wife and Red’s mother, was among them, her long dark hair tied back as she stoked the fire under a large cooking pot. Her hands moved with practiced grace, preparing the meal that would feed the entire village. “Elena!” Gideon called out as they neared the gathering. “We’ve brought dinner.” Elena looked up, her face breaking into a warm smile at the sight of her husband and son. “Welcome back, both of you,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron as she approached them. She took the basket from Red, peering inside at the freshly caught fish. “You’ve done well today,” she praised, ruffling Red’s hair affectionately. Red beamed under his mother’s touch, pride swelling in his chest. “Father showed me where the best spots are,” he said, his voice full of youthful enthusiasm. Gideon chuckled, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. “The boy’s got a good eye,” he said. “He’ll be a fine fisherman one day.” 4
with a trace of sorrow that she quickly masked with a smile. “But for now, let’s get these fish cleaned and cooked. The villagers are hungry.” The family moved to the communal cooking area, where the villagers had already begun to gather. The air was filled with the rich aroma of roasting meat and vegetables, mingling with the sweet scent of fresh bread baking in the nearby ovens. The villagers greeted Gideon and Red warmly, their faces weathered but kind. In a world that had been torn apart by war and strife, the village of Ashen was a sanctuary of peace and simplicity. As the evening wore on, the village came alive with the sounds of music and laughter. The villagers gathered around the fire, sharing stories and songs as they ate. Red sat between his parents, listening intently to the tales of old, his young mind soaking up every word. Gideon and Elena watched their son with quiet pride, their hands intertwined as they enjoyed the simple pleasure of being together. But as the night deepened, a sense of foreboding began to creep into Gideon’s heart. He could feel it in the air, a chill that had nothing to do with the coolness of the evening. It was as if the very shadows of the forest were watching, waiting for something to happen. He glanced around at the villagers, who were oblivious to the growing unease that gnawed at his insides. Only Elena seemed to sense his discomfort, her brow furrowing as she caught his eye. “What’s wrong?” she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. Gideon shook his head, forcing a smile. “Nothing,” he lied. “Just a long day.” But Elena knew her husband too well. She could see the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes darted toward the darkened edges of the village. She squeezed his hand, offering silent comfort, though the unease in her own heart had begun to grow. The night stretched on, the festivities eventually giving way to the quiet stillness of sleep. The villagers retired to their homes, the fires slowly dying out as the village of Ashen slipped into 5
goodnight, their hearts full as they watched their son drift off into peaceful dreams. But even as they lay down to sleep, Gideon’s mind remained restless. The unease that had gripped him earlier had only intensified, a cold dread that settled deep in his bones. He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the night, his senses on high alert. Every rustle of leaves, every distant howl of a wolf, seemed magnified in the darkness. And then, just as the first light of dawn began to break, it happened. A blood-curdling scream shattered the silence, echoing through the village like a death knell. Gideon bolted upright, his heart pounding in his chest. Elena gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she scrambled out of bed. Red, startled awake by the noise, sat up in confusion, his wide eyes reflecting the terror on his parents’ faces. “What’s happening?” Red whispered, his voice trembling. Gideon didn’t answer. He grabbed his sword, which lay beside the bed, and rushed out of the house, Elena and Red close behind. The village was in chaos, the peaceful night shattered by the sounds of panic and fear. Villagers ran through the streets, their faces twisted in terror as they fled from the unseen threat. Gideon pushed through the crowd, his eyes scanning for the source of the disturbance. And then he saw it—a group of soldiers, clad in black armor, their faces hidden behind menacing masks, tearing through the village like a pack of wolves. They moved with ruthless efficiency, cutting down anyone who stood in their way. Gideon’s blood ran cold. He recognized the insignia on their armor—the mark of the Ashen Lord, the tyrant who ruled over the city with an iron fist. These were no ordinary soldiers; they were the elite enforcers of the regime, sent to crush any hint of rebellion or dissent. “Gideon!” Elena’s voice rang out, filled with desperation. She had found Red, who had been separated in the chaos, and was holding him close. “We have to go!” 6
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