One More Week Until Rohan of the Ruin Ends

We’re baaaaack!

Thank you for your patience and understanding while I took a week off of Writing Prompt Wednesday so I could work on editing for my novel. I finished the chapters and sent them back this weekend, so I’m ready to throw Rohan for a loop!

Hopefully, you enjoyed the flash fiction writing prompt last week. I enjoyed the sweet nature of Bayla’s story and how it didn’t necessarily deal with romantic love so much as showing kindness and love to your fellow people. Let me know if you want to see more shorter stories like that in the future! Sometimes they’re easier to follow than the 10-week marathons like Rohan of the Ruin and the one before that, The Night of the Renascence.

(Check out The Night of the Renascence here:)

https://www.bluedandelionpress.com/autumn-festivals-and-short-stories/: One More Week Until Rohan of the Ruin Ends

When we left Rohan and his companions, Faelynn had just returned from the castle walls and they prepared for their mission to begin at first light. Looking back at the entire story, I’m curious to see where they’re going to go from here. Rohan has his ruin and fear power while Faelynn is tenacious and dedicated to protecting her people and village. Aesop hasn’t shown any specific powers yet but he’s out for justice. Come along for the next to last installment of Rohan of the Ruin.

Copyright 2025 – This Book Beauty

The first ambitious rays of light reached into the sky from the eastern horizon, the spears turning inky pool of night into a gray that stretched on and on for as far as the eye could see. The still-hidden shafts of sun awoke Rohan and his companions and he knew none of them had slept well despite their deadly task.

They prepared silently, the forest still dark and relatively quiet around them. Only the muted sounds of nocturnal animals preparing to settle into their dens and nests as the sun rose. Aesop’s gaze stayed fixed on the looming shadow of the castle while Faelynn spent the majority of her morning wringing her hands together with worry. For his part, Rohan’s mind went still, his body already preparing to use the horrible power he tried so hard to forget settled in his veins.

Centuries of ruining and spearing into people’s minds with his fear had long ago become just another part of himself that he hated and if this was his last day, he wouldn’t mind so much. So long as Jonelle came out the other side okay, he could accept that fate. Fatigue clawed at his body, his consciousness. How many years of spreading horror and panic could one endure before he simply ceased to be himself?

Rohan kept his thoughts to inside his mind, refusing to speak in the lightening predawn hours. They left any extra belongings sitting in the small clearing, not only could they not afford to pack extra weight and supplies with them, but if they did not succeed this day, it wouldn’t matter if the little camp were found anyway. Without a spoken word, the three companions set out toward the castle together. An element of pride made Rohan’s heart lighter for a moment, they moved as one unit, strides matching and focus settled on their target.

As they approached, they kept low to the ground, moving silently as the wind blowing through reeds, as much a part of the landscape as the tall grasses themselves. Rohan took the lead, his elvish eyes seeking out the night guards, the spaces between them, and the hidden entrances he knew of. The southern side housed his preferred hidden entrance, though he’d mostly used it for sneaking out under the cover of the darkness. A door, built into the stones and close to the ground provided a quiet entrance as it hid beneath the tall grasses, close to the dirt and well out of sight of the prying gaze of the wall guards.

He crouched near the left side of the castle wall, motioning for Aesop and Faelynn to stand against the large rectangular stones that made up the castle base. Those stones were a variation of grays, resembling the remaining coals of a burned-out campfire. In the sun, the color was imposing. In the darkness, that charcoal color helped to hide their figures, an unexpected element that Rohan thanked to elements for.

His fingertips scrapped against the stone as he searched for the space between the stones he’d worked to dig out through centuries of thoughts of escaping always to be hindered by the reminder that his sister remained trapped. Rohan gritted his teeth, his fingernails tearing and bending as he tugged at the stone, pulling it inch by painful inch from its spot in the wall. At last, the stone moved and he finished yanking it from the wall and started on the second stone block.

The two were the only ones he’d been able to loosen in his entire existence and though the way in would be tight, the corridor it opened into was more spacious. They just had to get through the entrance first.

Rohan went first, then Faelynn, and Aesop brought up the rear, pulling one of the blocks as close to the castle wall as possible, hoping to keep their entrance a secret just a bit longer. Waves of panic had gripped Rohan as he wiggled through, his shoulders touching either side of the stone throughout. The corridor on the other side opened into the dungeons. Thick metal bars made up cages of different sizes throughout the space, making Faelynn wonder what, other than people, the king kept contained here.

The dungeons were quiet, the unnerving lack of noise set Faelynn’s teeth on edge and made Aesop extra jumpy. Rohan, unfortunately, knew these dungeons quiet well, had spent many hours down here, as the tortured and torturer both. Their footsteps barely echoed in the cavernous space, the slight sound had Faelynn flinching in nervousness, certain they’d be caught.
A set of narrow, circular stairs led upward and Rohan started up them cautiously, stopping every couple of steps to listen. Finally, they reached the top and tucked themselves back into an alcove where they stood, huddled together, Rohan’s back to the open. The position made him uncomfortable and he stiffened, only slightly comforted by Aesop’s watchful gaze peering over his shoulder.

“Remember, we need to get to Jonelle first, then we go after the king,” his low voice came out just above a quiet rumble, like the very beginning of thunder, before it hit a crescendo.

Aesop nodded, eyes darting around the open stairwell behind Rohan. Faelynn set her jaw and squared her shoulders, refusing to acknowledge the tremble that had taken hold of her shoulders and sent tingling sensations down her arms to her fingertips. Satisfied with their response, Rohan turned toward the room, listening intently, then led them through the castle corridors, sticking to halls used by servants and lesser-known paths in the deepest forgotten recesses of the fortress.

As they moved further into the castle, a prickle of unease started at the base of his neck, growing rapidly until it hammered continuously in his skull, screaming at him that something was dreadfully wrong.
Part of that dread arose due to the lack of castle staff they encountered. Despite making their way up three levels over the dungeons, and moving into the turret rooms, they hadn’t encountered a single castle staff or guard, nor any lords or ladies. Regardless of King Akar’s ruthless nature, the fortress typically teemed with activity. That the stone and marble halls remained silent …

They came to Jonelle’s rooms finally, the heavy wooden door sat slightly ajar in the doorway and Rohan stopped Faelynn and Aesop with a quick shake of his head. He would go in first. Cautiously, Rohan stepped forward, one leather boot in front of the other as he moved on silent feet toward the door. It barely creaked on its hinges as he pull it toward the hall and stepped through. Faelynn and Aesop followed at his back, prepared to defend him against whatever they found.

Inside, Jonelle stood by the window, her long flowing white gown trailed the floor behind her and her long golden hair trailed down her back in thick waving locks. Rohan flicked his eyes around the circular tower room, taking in every detail of the feminine trappings. She turned toward him and her eyes lit in delight.

“Rohan!” She sing-songed, her sweet voice a balm to his heart. How he missed her! For years, Jonelle had been held over him as a means to keep him compliant, to keep him serving the king.

He moved toward her, urgency riding his heels, “Jonelle, we need to go.”

Her brow furrowed, “Why? Rohan, it’s so nice here.”

Pain sparked through him at her words. It was the sacrifice he had made to keep her safe and secure, away from those who would use her for her powers. He hadn’t shared the horrid parts of his deal with her, not wanting to burden her with his decisions.

“Jonelle –”

“Why would she go with you?” a deep, menacing voice came from behind them as the door crashed shut.

They spun, Aesop’s single dagger coming up to point at the intruder as he stepped in front of Faelynn, shielding her with his body.
Rohan blanched visibly before he could regain his composure. He felt pale and shaky, though he squared his shoulders and drew himself to his full height.

“Hello, traitor,” the man sneered, a wicked grin spread over his face, giving him a ghoulish appearance in the soft morning light.

Rohan’s voice scrapped from his throat, rough with terror and horrible acceptance, “King Akar.”

Oh. . . SNAP! What the heck is happening here?! Is Jonelle simply naive or is there something else going on that Rohan doesn’t know about? Looks like that is something we’ll be finding out in the next and FINAL installment of Rohan of the Ruin.

What do you think? Have you read the other parts of this story? I don’t know! Let’s see what happens!

Happy Reading!