I woke up in my family home, or what was left of it. Then came a sudden sharp pain from inside my head.  After an eternity of clenching my eyes and gritting my teeth waiting for it to fade. I slowly opened my eyes to take in the ruins of my family's home I was laying in what was left of one of the two beds in the room. The wall had half collapsed and dropped the shelf containing my entire collection of books on top of me. Explaining the headache.

 I shifted my focus on getting on my feet. I pushed aside the remains of the collapsed shelf making me all too aware of how fucked my left side was. I could see the discolored purple and green skin through my torn shirt and it felt like someone had decided to use a jackhammer on me while I was out. The final move to stand brought another wave of pain but this was less from any single spot but more from my entire body simultaneously asking why I wasn’t dead. 

The house was in similar condition and the whole shack seemed to have shifted and sunk to the left making my first two steps all the more difficult. I stepped over the splintered boards and remnants of my bed into the main hallway of the home.

 The front door wasn’t even there looking like it had been blasted open giving me a view out the house across the porch and into the burning town. My eyes were beginning to water in the smoky haze and a stray cough almost brought me back to my knees as more pain ripped through my left torso. 

I staggered out the door giving me a better view. I knew these houses, and I knew the people who live in them. Names and faces however, were a haze in my mind instead my brain seemed more interested in telling me to get the hell out of here. Which I eagerly agreed with and I staggered into the street

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As I reached the end of the street I saw my first body. An older man had a well groomed beard and was wearing a red shirt with a traveling cloak. Mr. Anderson, the foreman of the village farmers. I felt a twang in my stomach. That cloak, my clothes were torn and would do little to protect me from the environment. I had to take it. 

As I fiddled with the fastener around his neck my hands came out coated in blood. My focus shifted behind the clasp and I saw a large cut across his neck that was gushing still warm blood. Another ache from something in my stomach. I did my best to ignore it. The cloak was all I needed, once I had it I could get moving again. A series of sharp bangs pierced the haze followed by three impacts to my left. I took off like a spooked deer and ripped the cloak out not bothering to look back at the shooter.

Two more bangs from behind me and I dove into an alley between the houses turning my head to see the shooter silhouetted by flames now moving to give chase. I kept running past the houses, to  the grass field behind them in hopes of making it to the woods just beyond the village. Three more shots and I dove to the ground allowing the jackhammer to take its revenge as pain shot through my torso. I heard footsteps and willed myself to turn back and saw the shooter this time with better lighting. They wore a white cloak that was tightly fastened around their torso with the hood up. Their face was hidden by a white mask with a set of six black dots on it like a dice.

I could visibly see them pull the trigger and saw what little of my life I remembered flash before my eyes. But then I heard the most beautiful sound ever. A click from the now empty gun. The shooter was surprised too and seeing my chance I scrambled to my feet and took off running ignoring the pain.

 I could hear them behind me and the sharp hiss of a blade against leather. As I entered the treeline I was able to nimbly jump over the roots and brush. I had been doing it my whole life after all. My pursuer had not and tripped over one of the many roots.

I didn't stop my sprint. They had used a gun, which meant they were either one rich looter or were part of a group with the money to buy the ancient weapons. Which meant that group was also and might not be far behind. I continued through the trees and burst out onto the road, leaping across the drainage ditch. I had just left the ground when I processed the armed soldiers standing on the road. Time slowed down as I flew towards their surprised faces and the toe of my foot brushed the ground just in time for my momentum to carry me into a clenched fist. My other foot hitting the ground is the last thing I remember before my consciousness imploded.