Jalems was deep into the woods. The stars scattered the dark night like fireworks. Jalems rarely had the chance to appreciate such beauty. He spent most of his time keeping himself and Marie alive. He took in the sight, enjoying the peace of mind.

  He pressed on and with each step, he could feel his bones hitting the earth. Though he didn’t look his age, he felt like it. The night winds sliced through him, his cloak billowed behind, it was difficult to stay focused.

  He reached his destination. The sound of flowing water comforted him. He dropped to his knees, but before he touched the stream, his reflection startled him.

  He hadn’t seen his appearance in a few years now. He touched his facial hair, his once thick black beard was now silver with a few streaks of black in it. His hairline had retreated out of his sight. He knew he felt more of a breeze atop his head, but to see it looking back at him left him speechless. His jowls were sagging, all this time in his mind he was still young, but his reflection told him otherwise. He cleared his throat focusing his attention. He filled his palms with the river and thrust it onto his face. The icy chill relieved him from grogginess.

  He heard noises behind him, his muscles tensed. He grabbed onto Iris’ hilt. A bird flew off into the sky, the crow flapped its wings fervently. He watched it as it moved, envy materialized while he looked at the bird take off. He imagined the freedom it must have, with the wind under its belly. The sight disarmed him. A sigh of relief escaped his throat. He continued to fill the pale to capacity.

  He heard another sound again, but this time it was too late.

  A deep slumber fell over their hut, except for White. She twisted and turned in her sleep. Her dreams were filled with horrible images of death, fire, and ruin. A dark cloud hovered over her as she ran for her life. Soldiers dressed in polished crimson armor galloped behind her. Their horses right on her heels. Her heart was racing, sweat trickled down her forehead. She ran so hard she felt her lungs were about to burst from her chest. While she ran, she could see leaves forming on tree branches, the fog lifted from the sky. A breeze brushed against her, she turned around the Crimson Guards were gone. Only lush greenery nd colorful flowers filled that space.

  She then saw a man standing at the edge of the prairie. She walked closer to him, he turned around and placed a rose in her hand. Her cheeks flushed pink, he was handsome with kind features like royalty almost. His eyes a crisp blue, soft and warm. He was the only part of her dream that made her feel safe. Together, the two of them gallivanted through an open field. They stopped and exchanged glances. He tucked a fly away behind her ear. His hands were soft as a cloud. His muscular arms swathed her tiny waist. Her hands found their way to his broad-shouldered chest. He cupped her fingers into his palm and gave the back of her hand a gentle peck. A ring appeared on her left hand.

  Two hands pushed Jalems’ downward, submerging him into the river. Their strong arms felt firm and stiff on his chest. He could see an outline of the person attacking him, but couldn’t make out a face. He felt his air supply running low, his head started feeling lighter, his vision became blurry.

  He wondered was this what it feels like to die, it was calm but terrifying. It felt as if the remaining breath was leaking out of him like a pipe burst. His efforts seemed futile, and wasted on fighting, until Marie came to his mind. What would she do without him, he had to survive not for himself but for her.

  He reached for Iris, but the stranger’s knee rested on her hilt. He struggled, his hands searched for anything he could use to defend himself, but all he felt was the water running between his fingers. An image of a knife popped into his head, he felt for the small weapon he kept hidden. He unsheathed a curved dagger and plunged it into the assailant’s abdomen. Their hands lifted from him. Jalems raised himself above the water, his lungs grasped for air.

  The attacker adorned himself in all black, including his face. The man fell to his hands and knees and covered his stomach wound, streaks of red colored his hand. Jalems felt his waist for Iris, but she was missing. He had lost track of both weapons, he was so fixated on breathing, his mind blocked out everything else. He searched the ground, dirt buried into his fingernails in the process. He finally located the dagger, but so did the assassin.

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  They both looked at the weapon and raced for its pommel. Jalems had it within his grasp. His fingertips right on the edge, but then the masked man lunged for it. His hands pushed it just out of reach. The dagger slid under a bus, no telling how deep it went.

  They both staggered to their feet, weakened but their will unshaken. Jalems felt weak, his soaked cloak weighed him down even more. Droplets of water trickled down his face, though they frozen before they hit the ground. Jalems was too old for this, he needed to end this now. He decided to handle him old fashioned, with blood and knuckles.

  They balled their fists and exchanged blows. Jalems hit him with a strong hook. It threw his opponent off balance. When it seemed he had the upper hand, the assassin landed a punch in his gut. The blow forced a cough from Jalems’ stomach. He then tackled Jalems to the ground. He wrapped his rugged hands around Jalems’ throat. He could feel the life slipping from him.

  Her fantasy soon turned back into a nightmare.

  The prairie ignited into a roaring fire. She was surrounded within seconds. From the distance she saw her family, a hoard of Crimson Guards closed in on them. The flames prevented her from reaching them. She watched in horror as they fought against them, but there were far too many guards for the three of them to take on. Her father, mother, and sister were taken into royal custody, metal collars placed on them. Somehow the chains subdued their power.

  Their trial took place before the entire town to see. The crowd was as wide as the ocean, spectators chanted kill all Entie, Their voices formed one deafening roar. Their fists raged like torches, the people were on the verge of rioting. Pandemonium was unfolding before her eyes.

  She pushed through the crowd, forcing her body through whatever tiny openings she could find. She thought if she could just get there in time then maybe she could stop this madness.

  White spotted her little sister, her prepubescent body on trial looked ridiculous. The rope was too big for her, it looked more like a necklace, but the mob carried on. A Crimson Guard walked over to her. White was hopeful he would let her go, what sense does it make to hang a little girl. Instead, the man tightened the noose ensuring she wouldn’t slip through it during the drop. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

  “Magic has descended the world into chaos we must kill all the Entie, in order to bring peace” a voice proclaimed, the crowd roared in agreement. She couldn’t recall the name of the one who spoke, but his voice felt vaguely familiar. The softness in his tone gave her comfort despite the fact he was the one inciting chaos.

  In one quick pull of a lever, the wooden surface dropped beneath them. Their feet dangled as the rope strangled them. Their bodies flailed like fish out of water. She watched as their eyes filled with blood. The snap of their necks echoed in her ears. The sound haunted her, it was engraved in her like the tattoo on her wrist.

  Jalems balled his fist, he swung at his attacker knocking them off of him. The man grabbed his side, letting a groan slip from his lips. Jalems took advantage of his weakness. He knocked the man onto his back and pummeled him, until he subdued the assailant.

  Jalems ripped off their mask, “Who are you?” he shouted. He didn’t recognize his face. The man was young, no older than thirty, his eyes shaped like almonds.

  “I’m nobody, but you’re dead,” he grumbled, “I may not be the one to do it, but your days are numbered. For you and that pretty little girl of yours” he said,

  At the mention of Marie, Jalems grit his teeth and struck him again. His fist bashed in the man’s cheek. Jalems felt his knuckles crush his face. The pain felt powerful.

  The assassin groaned in agony, a cough forced its way from him chest. He slowly turned his gaze back at Jalems. A sick smile appeared on his face. The attacker’s mouth had turned red. Blood oozed from his teeth. A small light bounced off the man’s chest. On his tunic laid a broach with a crescent moon symbol inside a circle. Jalems’ eyes widened, this was no ordinary bounty on him, important people wanted him dead.

  “Who sent you?” he growled, his breath steamed with his words. The attacker laughed at him. He spat a mouthful of blood in his face. Jalems clenched his jaw, anger fueled him. He grabbed his face with both hands and slammed his head into the ground repeatedly. Until he no longer moved. Red tears slid down the assailant’s cheeks. Jalems stumbled to his feet, he spotted Iris, her scabbard blended with a nearby oak tree. He stumbled over to her, unsheathed the blade, and thrust her into the man’s stomach. Iris bit into the ground piercing his body with ease. Jalems breathed heavily, exhaustion forced him to his knees.