Redven reached for the front door, fear filling his mind and heart, only to find it slippery and bloodsoaked. As he looked down to see the blood on his hands, he noticed a larger pool in which he stood, shards of some sort of rock or crystal jutting out of the moonlit puddle. Redven screamed for his family, calling their names frantically as he rammed his large body into the door, breaking it down in an explosion of splinters. The moonlight flooded the darkened home, his worst fears realised. The house was trashed, pots and pans scattered throughout the kitchen, the living room littered with their belongings and a trail of blood leading from the window to the master bedroom. Redven rushed down the hall to his room, the handle warm with blood. He opened the room to find Kairam, clutched in the bloodied arms of Azura. He fell to the ground, shaking them and calling their names in despair, tears pouring from his eyes. They didn’t wake, their wounds too grievous to survive. Redven sat on the ground, holding his family tight as he rocked back and forth sobbing uncontrollably. His world had been destroyed, his insides felt as though they had disappeared and his torso was filled the void itself, a vast, cold blackness.
Redven sat there holding the faces of his family for long enough that much of the blood on him had dried. He knew they were gone, but he hoped that soon he would wake from this terrifying dream. He decided that were it a dream or not, something needed to be done. He crawled under the bed and removed the clothed bundle from beneath the slats. He placed the bundle on the bed and revealed his blades, identical scimitars, both shone brightly in the moonlight, both ornate with golden trim and quality black leather-bound handles. His eyes still flowing tears down his face, Redven attached the blades to his belt and turned to his family. Kissing them on the forehead, he vowed to them that he would see them when his time came, and that he would avenge them, no matter the cost.
Redven rode his horse as fast as it could go, which was a big ask considering their day’s journey. But the horse ran as fast as it ever had, as if it knew the importance of speed at that moment. It wasn’t long before Redven arrived at the farmhouse of Sommers, the only farmer who’d apologised for attacking him. He burst down the door to find him and his family having dinner, charging towards Sommers who sat comfortably in his chair. Redven grabbed him by the throat and dragged him across the room, a difficult feat for a normal man but for a man as strong and adrenaline fueled as Redven, he barely knew he held a fully grown human if not for the screams of his family and the clawing at his hands from his prey.
“You come to my house to spy on me!” shouted Redven, so close into Sommers’ face that he could feel the force of the words in his eyes. Sommers tried to respond but couldn’t breathe, his neck being squeezed so tight he thought he’d die if Redven pressed even a fraction harder. Redven released his grip, but drew a sword and placed it to his throat, Sommers coughed and wheezed trying to regain his breath and let the blood filter from his face.
“I didn’t… do anything…” Sommers said, coughing and choking slightly as he tried to force out something to calm Redven down. Redven held the blade to his throat and punched him in the stomach, a terrifying event for Sommers, wishing to bend with the blow, but should he bend too far he’d kill himself on Redven’s blade. His wife and son stood behind Redven, screaming at him for mercy, the boy beginning to cry as he clutched to his mother’s waist.
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“What...happened..” said Sommers, sputtering the words out of his mouth as legibly as he could manage.
“They’re dead and you fucking sent those fucks to kill them!” Redven said, his owns words fuelling his rage, convincing himself of his own assumptions.
“Who? I don’t know what you are saying…” Sommers said, trying to find some sense in what was going on.
“My son and my wife are dead! You spied on me, you told those fucks I had no weapons and had left for the city, so they killed them! And now, I’m going to slaughter you all!” screamed Redven, taking a step back and bringing his blade overhead.
“He hasn’t left the house in three days, he’s been ill, please no!” screamed the wife, searching for mercy in Redven, but she found none. His son rushed to Sommers and held him tight, crying and whining something between his heavy sobs. Redven thought of Kairam and Azura as he was about to destroy a family, as his had been. Sommers had come to him as a man and apologised for his mistakes. Perhaps he was wrong, thought Redven. He lowered his blade and pushed it back against Sommers’ throat.
“Where are the others, I need answers!” asked Redven, intent on making sense of this and getting revenge.
“They’re all neighbours to each other, Grey John’s house the first after where the fair is held, a league towards the city, but they wouldn’t do this, you have to believe me,” Sommers pleaded with Redven, “they’d punch you while they’re drunk but they wouldn’t attack your family, let alone kill them!”
“I’ll find out for myself!” said Redven, removing his blade and storming out of the house. His horse broke into a sprint as soon as he felt the back of Redven’s boot clip his rear. The trip to Grey John’s house felt long for Redven, the rage inside him causing his arms to shake and his hands to become sweaty, his jaw felt tight as he ground his teeth together thinking about the same things over and over. His wife and son, left in a bloody mess on the floor of his home, the way he wished to slaughter these pathetic men who would attack an innocent woman and child, the way he wished he could tear them apart, limb from torso, ripping their jaws from their heads in a brutal avulsion. When he reached the house of Grey John he dismounted and stormed the front door, finding Grey John alone in his home drinking and reading a book.
“What the fuck?” said Grey John, falling back on his chair and spilling his drink as Redven burst through the door. Without hesitation, he buried his blade in Grey John’s chest with one hand, pivoting and bringing the blade high, it burst into flames before he slammed it deep into the wooden floor behind Grey John’s neck, blood spilling out in a sudden burst. Redven dislodged the blade from the wood as the flames petered out and surged to the next house. His warpath would see no breaks, his vengeance would be swift and violent.
Hours later, six guards from the city had arrived with Sommers, finding Redven laying on the floor of the last farmer’s house, drenched in blood, both swords in hand and streaks of removed blood on his face where tears had fallen but could fall no more.
“I’m sorry... I had to… ,” said Sommers, fearing Redven’s rage and bloodlust would strike his home again. Redven said nothing, he just stared at the roof and reminisced his favourite memories of his family, his face looked as though he was crying and the sobs made it look as though he was, but he had no more tears to cry and all he felt was emptiness and sorrow. He gave no resistance as the guards disarmed him, picked him up and arrested him. His arms were heavy and his head ached, but all of this paled in comparison to the soul crushing shame and despair that consumed him.