"Arkon! Why are you home so early!?" He stood in the doorway silently staring. Blood still dripped from his metal clad hands onto the wooden floor. Metal creaked as he closed his hands into fists.

"Home? No, it's clearly no longer such," he whispered. 

Afraid, the woman crawls further away, covering her body with blankets, as if like a shield from his eyes.

"Hey, who do you think you are barging in like this!"  a tall muscular man demands, as he climbs out of the bed to approach him. He doesn't get too far before the woman grabs his arm and pulls him back.

"Stop, Colin! He can kill you," she urges.

"So nice to see you care for someone else, Julia," Arkon says quietly. Slowly, he makes his way towards the stove and opens the door. Still clutched in his hand, he threw the scarf she made him into the flames. He stood and watched the blood stained cloth boil and wither away, to become ashes along side the wood.

"I built this home for you, do you remember?" He asked without turning around. 

His question was met with only silence.

"I wanted to raise our children in a home of our own. I wanted to take you away from those horrible people you called a family. Every plank has my blood. Every nail has my sweat. This house is me, Julia, and as so there will be nothing left," 

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Quickly he clutched the sword on his back with both hands and swung downwards, cleaving the stove pipe apart.

"What are you doing! Stop it!" She screamed. She coughed as smoke began billowing out.

The couple stared in horror as he grabbed the searing hot stove, groaning as he pitched it forward. Flames spilt out, blocking the doorway and creeping towards the bed.

"Now, my wife, you shall no what it's like to give in to the heat of passion." Their screams filled the night as he walked away. Sheathing his sword, he began making his way deeper into the woods.

No, this isn't what you want, the words could be heard quietly from the shadows.

"You don't know what I want."

I can hear your heart Arkon and this isn't the answer.

"Shut up, it's my decision," he grounded out.

Do you think Anton would want this? What would he say?

Memories of singing and drinking his brothers after a hard march. One in particular, his war brother Anton, who stood shoulder to shoulder with him when they got into a drunken brawl to see who can hit harder.

"I know what you're trying to do, but you won't stop me." More memories flowed through. A man leaned over someone on the ground, screaming as tears fell on the man below him, smearing the blood and dirt on his face. Anton's face.

You can't, I won't let you do this!

"You can't do anything to stop me and you know it," he said tiredly. Suddenly, the trees ended and in front of him was a massive hole, like the maw of the abyss itself.

NO! NO NO NO NO! Don't do this! 

He walked over to the edge and stopped. He reached under his armor and pulled out a flower. Black and ageless, it was a gift from many years ago, the only kindness he had known as a child and had kept on his person since.

"I hope you'll be there for me on the other side. Hey, bring Anton with you when you come get me, okay? I miss his stupid jokes and I could really use a laugh right now." Cluthing the flower with both hands, he leaned and fell over into the maw.

A woman's scream filled the night once more, adding to the fire.