The icy grip of the castle’s stone corridors seemed to tighten around Gabriel as the sounds of his hurried footsteps reverberated through them. Walls that had once been as comforting as a warm embrace now loomed like an inescapable labyrinth. His mother, always regal even in her distress, matched his steps, her breathing controlled but filled with urgency. Leading them through this maze was Janus, the stoic guard whose face now bore lines of deep concern.

“Where do we go?” Gabriel panted.

“We need to escape the castle. There's a secret exit in the king’s chambers, one that leads straight outside the city, past the eastern castle wall,” his mother replied.

“Why didn’t you tell us before?” Janus asked.

“Sarah,” his mother's voice whispered, laden with meaning. Realization dawned on Gabriel. The confrontation with the attackers, every risk taken, all the sacrifices —had been to free Sarah. Though he struggled with the gravity of this revelation, he understood. Ma concealed the truth to save Sarah. And I can’t blame her for that.

“How have I never known about this?” Gabriel asked.

“Only the rulers know. It was one of the few things the king ever confided in me.”

Gabriel’s mind raced as they sprinted, trying to understand the secrets of the castle he thought he knew. It made sense for a King to need an emergency exit. What the king hadn’t expected was for a mere maid to take his life before he could use it.

Just before they turned a corner, a sinister voice sliced through the distance, “Where are they?”

Janus's hand shot up, halting their advance. A second voice murmured from the gloom, “Perhaps the Demon already has them.”

Fear propelled them backwards, their eyes darting to find sanctuary. They searched for an open door, any refuge. But each door they tried was sealed shut, as if the castle itself was conspiring against them.

“Open up!” he bellowed, desperation tightening his voice, but only silence answered back.

His mother's voice rose above the chaos, “I am your queen, let me in!”

Yet the castle's stony heart stood resolute. Whether for fear or purpose, people kept the doors sealed. Both the fortress and its denizens remained impassive.

“To the library!” Gabriel shouted, praying to Victra the doors would be open to them. His mother gave a quick nod, her eyes locking onto his. The sound of their pursuers grew louder, but their exact distance remained a mystery.

Janus led the charge and crashed into the library door, bursting it open. Gabriel’s sigh of relief was cut short as he saw an assailant spot them. He cursed under his breath, “By Ash's flame!”

“They saw us enter,” Gabriel warned.

“Quickly, we need to barricade the door,” Janus said.

The library, once a sanctuary for Gabriel, now imprisoned them. The weight of a thousand tales pressed against them as they struggled to barricade the entrance. They pushed a hefty oak table against the door. But even as they barricaded themselves in, the reality of their predicament bore down on them — they were trapped.

Janus pushed his back against the table, trying to hold it in place. Thud! Thud! The rhythmic pounding on the door, a morbid drumbeat that threatened to shatter not just the wooden barrier but their very hope.

The table screeched a mournful note each time the door crashed against it. Janus’s body buckled against the force. “I can't hold it much longer,” he said between panting breaths.

Gabriel’s eyes were drawn to his mother, her hands unveiling a set of concealed knives. His throat tightened. Janus, equally taken aback, questioned, “Can you wield those?”

“I can,” she responded simply.

The sight of his mother, armed and poised, disoriented Gabriel. Throughout his life, she had been a paragon of grace, a woman who advocated peace over conflict. But the urgency of the situation demanded no time for reflection.

Janus issued a command, “Target the attackers on the right. I'll handle the ones on the left.”

They readied themselves. As if on cue, Janus stepped back, producing another dagger and a hunting knife. Gabriel marveled at the small arsenal concealed within Janus's waistcoat.

As he clasped his dagger, a bleak thought flashed across Gabriel’s mind. I don’t want to die.

Suddenly, the barrier gave way and chaos ensued. With a fluid motion, his mother’s knives found their marks. One assailant crumpled, a blade lodged in his throat, while another howled in agony, a knife embedded in his chest but still advancing. Janus's hunting knife found another mark, its graphic conclusion forcing Gabriel to avert his gaze.

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As Janus unleashed a flurry of steel against two attackers, Gabriel's attention shifted to the third, the one with a knife jutting from his chest, now menacingly advancing toward them. His mother deftly wielded a heavy candlestick, her stance firm.

“We have no quarrel with you, my lady. Hand over the boy,” the man hissed.

“Stay away from him!” his mother’s voice was as sharp as the surrounding blades.

Gabriel was paralyzed with fear, hiding behind his mother. His inexperience was evident as he fumbled with his dagger, its blade wavering uncertainly. In a swift movement, the attacker's blade sent the candlestick flying from his mother’s grasp. The following backhanded slap sent her crashing to the floor. Gabriel was left exposed. Panic welled up in him as the man strode toward him.

A glance to his side showed Janus entangled with another assailant, leaving him utterly isolated. Fueled by desperation, Gabriel retreated. I can’t win a fight against this man. He began ripping books from their sacred places, hurling them at his pursuer in a futile attempt to fend him off.

The man pursued relentlessly, his fingers snagging the fabric of Gabriel's tunic. A surge of adrenaline empowered Gabriel to tear himself away. Racing forward, he nearly stumbled upon Janus's still form. The sight of his fallen protector, lying in a somber pool of blood, momentarily gripped him. But, with a heavy heart laden with grief, he leapt over Janus, driven by the dire need to escape. Yet Gabriel knew he had to stay focused. Any lapse will mean my death.

Snatching a fallen sword from the floor, he steeled himself to face the assailant. Artus’s final echoed in his mind; I'd sooner face death than cower in fear. And so, Gabriel would fight, even if it led to death. There was no escape. And maybe I don’t deserve one.

A mirthless chuckle emanated from the attacker. “Decided you’re a warrior now, have we?”

Ignoring the taunt, Gabriel asked, “Why? Why do this?”

His only response was derisive laughter. Without warning, the attacker lunged. Step by step, Gabriel was forced backward, until he found himself trapped against the very table that had been their barricade. Another ferocious strike came, and though Gabriel blocked it, the force sent his borrowed sword clattering away. Defenseless, he awaited the final blow.

As the blade lunged towards him, a sharp impact jolted Gabriel at his side. Bracing for the sight of blood, he was met with an unbroken expanse of skin. Beneath his tunic, an unforeseen shield had thwarted the blade's cruel intent.

A metallic clang rang out from behind the man. Whirling around, he found himself face to face with a fierce-looking woman—Gabriel’s mother.

The moment hung in the air, charged with tension. Before the guard could even register her presence, she lunged at him with a gleaming sword. He responded with a grace that belied his size, expertly parrying her blow. He instinctively retaliated with lethal precision. With a swift, gut-wrenching motion, the coldness of steel was met with the warmth of blood. The man’s blade found its mark, piercing his mother through the stomach.

“NO!” The rawness of Gabriel's scream pierced the room, echoing the depth of his pain.

The realization of the attacker’s action dawned on his face. He stumbled back, horror clear in his eyes. “By Victra,” he gasped. “What… What have I done?”

The world around Gabriel fractured, each heartbeat a deafening thunder, echoing the trauma of the moment. He couldn't tear his eyes away from his mother's gaze - once windows into a soul filled with love, now windows into an abyss of shock and pain.

The surrounding air grew thick, every inhalation a struggle, as if the weight of his grief turned the very atmosphere to molten lead. Internally, a tempest of emotions raged — a maelstrom of rage and despair, threatening to erupt. But externally, an oppressive paralysis took hold, anchoring him in place and sealing his lips.

The colors of the library seemed to fade, smudged by the overwhelming crimson that now dominated his vision. The bedrock of his reality was soaked in sorrow, each thread weighing down on him by the irreversible finality of the moment. Memories surged like waves crashing against the shores of his mind. The gentle cadence of her lullabies, the comforting warmth of her touch, and the tender melody of her laughter. These memories, now tainted by the present horror, created a dissonance that threatened to fracture his sanity. However, a single thought seared through the fog.

Avenge her.

Possessed by that single, burning intent, Gabriel lunged for the sword beside his fallen mother. His anguished scream tearing through the silence, echoing the despair of a soul irrevocably scarred. The man rattled, stumbled backward, hastily unsheathing his dagger.

But Gabriel felt an upheaval deep within. An untamed force, previously dormant, had awakened. As if the very fabric of time had warped, everything around Gabriel began to move with an otherworldly languor. Each of the attacker’s strikes, once swift and deadly, now appeared sluggish, like a blade cutting through honey. Though the world moved in lethargic silence, Gabriel acted with fluid precision.

Anticipating a swipe from the left, Gabriel effortlessly deflected it, then ducked beneath an oncoming fist. And, with all the fury and grief churning within him, he channeled his tumultuous emotions and thrust his sword deep into the guard's midsection - a poetic retribution for the irreplaceable life stolen before him.

The guard crumpled to the stone floor, his expression a canvas of shock and realization, as the lifeblood drained from him.

Gabriel gripped the knife still protruding from the guard's chest - the same blade his mother had thrown with such precision. With forceful determination, he wrenched it free and plunged it repeatedly into the guard's torso. Over and over, he stabbed, each thrust a manifestation of his torment. The blood painted his face in dark, gruesome streaks. Even as the life faded from the man’s eyes, and his body became nothing more than an inanimate husk, Gabriel's fury drove him on. It was only when exhaustion overtook him, leaving him gasping for breath, that he ceased his violent assault.

Shaking, he pushed himself to his feet, the red haze of rage clearing. His gaze turned toward his mother. Her once-vibrant eyes were dimming, her breaths shallow and faltering. Dropping to his knees, he cradled her. “Ma... Ma, please,” he begged, pressing his hands over the wound in a desperate attempt to stem the flow.

“My... my boy,” she whispered, each word a struggle.

“You'll be fine, Ma. Stay with me.”

She coughed weakly. “You need to go... to Balatia… Find King Saxton.”

“I won't leave you,” he protested.

“He will grant you refuge... Tell him... you are Matilda's son. He will shield you,” she murmured, her strength waning with every syllable.

“No, Ma, please,” he sobbed, tears mingling with the blood on his hands.

Her voice was barely a breath. “I... I love.” No word’s followed, only silence.

Gabriel shook her gently, a choked cry escaping his lips. “Ma!”

But when he looked into those once sparkling emerald eyes, they held only emptiness. The joy, warmth, and love they once exuded had vanished. The devastating truth settled in his heart. His mother was gone.