Not even Garran could hold me back as I barreled down the hill, all of my pain and fatigue forgotten. Screams split through the air, assaulting my ears even with the wind blocking out most of the sound. The bells chimed lately in it's warning, and I glanced up at that burning tower, just in time to watch with horror as that large golden bell rang one last time before a crimson beast with black saliva spraying from his mouth knocked the bell from where it rested, taking the elf that stood guard with it.

Standing tall above the small burning village, the Demon pounded it's chest and roared it's guttural cry, so loud that even the birds from the forest over yonder retreated to safety. I tripped over my feet and yelped as I crashed into the ground, rolling down the rest of the hill. I stopped just outside a pigpen, with the poor animals scrambling in fear. Garran quickly came up right beside me and clamped his hand on my shoulder as though to hold me there, but it wasn't necessary. I was already frozen to the spot.

They spared no one. Every child they would pick up, ask it a question, snarl with annoyance before crushing their spines with a single hand. The sickening sound of bones popping and flesh squelching could be heard everywhere. I was rooted in my place in mute horror, before I was shoved into the pen, my face being imprinted into the mud. I whipped my head up to glare at Garran, but his eyes were sad, and resolute. He threw me into a hay pile, and held me down in it while he came close to me and whispered.

"No matter what you hear, or what you see, do not come out, Yvanna. I am begging you, stay right here." I trembled, and when he turned to leave me I quickly latched on to his arm, my eyes swimming with tears. "Yv-"

"Why are you doing this?" I asked pathetically, my voice breaking in all the wrong places. His smile was small and melancholic, and he gently cupped my cheek, rubbing his thumb alongside it.

"Just 'cuz," he replied, and turned away. Those hazel eyes never glanced back, not once. He picked up a discarded sword, and I could see the way his muscles shifted as he lifted it in a grand upswing, bringing the blade down along a Demon's violet backside. It howled in pain, so convincingly I thought Garran had done a fatal blow. But then the Demon's head twisted backwards, it's soulless black eye pinning Garran where he stood, and smiled.

Such a horrible sight it was. Blackened gums with yellow teeth stained deep red on the tips, each tooth as sharp as a razor was all one could see with his grin. It slid a rough tongue along those fangs, and while Garran tried to leap out of the way, the Demon's long arms quickly caught him in it's grasp, each finger clicking as it gripped him and pulled him up to be face to face with the beast. It's hollowed out nose sniffed him twice, and I could hear the deep drip of it's menacing growl.

"Where is the sorcerer," The Demon demanded, clutching Garran even tighter. He let out a strangled cry that tore open my heart, and his fingers loosened their hold on his sword, the sound of the blade clattering to the cobblestone ringing out. Even though his face was twisted in misery, he still managed to look confused.

"What... Sorcerer," he wheezed, and gasped as the Demon squeezed briefly. He tried again. "I have no idea what you're on about, there hasn't been someone like that since Valindra- and she died seventeen years ago, with Dagon." His eyes must have held an undiminished rage then, glaring daggers at the Demon as though to say because of you.

He was slammed into the ground, knocking the breath from his chest. The Demon stomped a clawed foot on to his frame, the pop of his broken rips clear as day, and of the talons on the Demon's foot sliced through Garran's arm. Bright scarlet blood gleamed in the firelight.

My heart was pounding erratically, but my body remained rooted in the hay pile. I could scarcely believe my eyes. It all felt too real, and at the same time fake. The world was spinning, my life upturned and in disaster.

A dream. It had to be a dream. One terrible, long, dark and twisted dream.

Right?

It's dark tongue slid down from the Demon's maw, slowly sliding down with unimaginable reach to lick his cheek. The creature then cackled, slipping it's tongue back inside before slamming his hand down by his head, lowering his face to Garran's. "Perhaps if I told you the sorcerer would have a tattoo of a Dragon, would that help jog your pitiful memory, human filth?"

A... Dragon tattoo?

I noticed Garran flinch in recognition, and slowly, too slowly, I looked down to my arm. To the tattoo of the Dragon's head with it's maw open. My breath caught, the world blurring.

This was all my fault?

I looked up in time for Garran to shake his head, and the Demon grinned. Like he could smell the lie on Garran's breath.

He swiped a dexterous claw across his abdomen, and first there was an unsettling silence. Like he missed.

Then Garran's cry came up as a shrill screech, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. It didn't take long for his tortured wailing to cut off, the sound still echoing through the enflamed village. I had watched every terrible moment as the Demon tore him asunder, emptying him like a ragdoll of it's stuffing. Though my eyes were muddied with heavy tears, I committed the terrible creature to memory. The large scar gifted by Garran on his back, his gaping maw and slithering onyx tongue, down to his left eye, mottled and white with blindness. The Demon's features burned into my mind, until it was all I could see when I closed my eyes.

Garran didn't move. Didn't breathe. All the colour had drained from his once tanned features, those hazel eyes now gone forever, his face set in permanent terror and fear, his jaw hung open in an unshed scream. I ducked back into the pile, pressing my hands to my mouth as I fought to clamp down my own scream, petrified in fear at the sight I had borne witness to.

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I remained in that hay pile for hours while they picked apart the village, barely risking a breath as they tore apart all that I knew and loved. Garran's hollow corpse stayed untouched in it's center, only kicked around as the Demon's stomped about, before they finally gave up.

Everyone, with what felt was in the blink of an eye, was dead. Probably faster than that.

I stayed put in my spot, not daring to move. Knees clutched to my chest, rocking back and forth. This wasn't real. It couldn't have been real.

Yet I knew there was only one way to be sure.

I gingerly stood up from the pile, the world now blanketed by night. The only sounds were from the wind rustling through the ashes, and the faraway howling from the woods. The wolves would come here soon.

With jittery steps I made my way towards Garran's corpse, collapsing down beside his head. Tears splotched his soot-covered forehead, and I sniffled as I gently covered his eyes, forcing them closed. I leaned back, gritting my teeth as I stared up into the dark sky. Stars twinkled up above, as though they didn't give a single damn to the massacre that had just occurred.

So I screamed into the sky, cursing the name of the Goddesses that stood by to watch this war destroy everything everyone loved. But it didn't change anything.

~~~

After a few solemn hours in the dead of night, I had gathered all the people in my village. From some unknown grace not a single feral scavenger came wandering into my desecrated village, leaving me to my own thoughts. Which there weren't very many of at all.

I wasn't particularly close to anyone in the village besides Garran. The only other person I could have considered my family was Madeleine, but she was dead too. She was the only one who had taken me in when a wandering traveler had left me in Madeleine's arms. I would forever be grateful to her kindness, even if she was cold and harsh some of the time, it helped toughen me. Not enough for this, though.

I was gracious enough in my deadened grief to place the butchered children with their own mothers, keeping families together. I laid down Garran in front of me, his face now peaceful. I hoped wherever he was, he felt nothing of that horrible pain. My lips began trembling again, and I held up my hand, my palm facing the pile of bodies. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the torrent of flame to come from my hand and on to the last remains of my village.

Yet nothing came. Like it was stuck. Something inside had broken and fractured so much that it lodged the magical current in my veins. I huffed a bitter laugh. It was almost better this way.

The magic that my village unknowingly died protecting. I couldn't even use it anymore.

I slowly strode away from the pile, heading towards the old forge. Sarsfield always took such great care of his forge, so well in fact that even after hours and hours without use, those same coals still burned. I slipped on charcoaled gloves and piled the burning coals into a pale. It would have to do.

When the bucket was full, I placed it down, looking around. I closed my eyes and breathed in. If I tried, I could almost imagine that this warm place was still filled with the heat and sweat of Garran and his master, Murtin. When I opened my eyes, the forge was oddly cold. Dead. Like everyone else.

I twisted to step out, and my foot caught on a box. It jostled and clanged with the sounds of metal, and I paused. It would only hurt me to open it, I knew that. I knew it all too well. And yet...

Kneeling down next to the chest, I gently brushed the top, my fingers coming away with a coating of dust. I furrowed my brows and I fiddled with the latch, easily opening the chest. All that was there was a smooth cedar bow with a clean string, and six arrows in a shaft. Beside it was a polished knife, delicate engravings of swirling leaves etched into the blade, and then the final piece...

A straight Medalin Silver rod with small spheres on either end, about two feet taller than me. My hands gently ran down the smooth pole, decorated similarly to the knife. My right hand suddenly crinkled a sheet and I halted, my eyes wide. I quickly picked up the paper and brought it next to the bright coals, reading the dark writing carefully.

I froze.

Dear Yvanna,

I didn't know how to say this, not without looking like a dumbass anyways, and to be honest I don't even know if I'll give this letter to you. I guess this is going to help me get my head on straight, and it'll serve to keep that nosey Murtin away from my crafted possessions. Which are gifts, meant for you.

Happy 18th I guess, and while I'm more than happy to celebrate your birthday, I wanted to celebrate something that I find a little more important: Us.

These weapons are for you. I know that all you've ever wanted was to pick up a staff and fight, and I hated the words that came out of my mouth every time I caught you in that golden wheat field. I just wanted to wait- wait for when you finally became 18, and we could leave.

I've known you since you were a baby. Despite my mother's begging I went to see you everyday when you first came here, as young as I was. Even in my second year of waking life, I would go to see your adorable little smile, the way your eyes would light up at the sight of me, it made my whole world.

For years, you've been my whole world. I've been smitten with you since day one. I've been struggling with how to confess these feelings, but it's hilariously embarrassing trying to ask you. Sometimes you're so stubborn and thick-headed, you don't even know when I'm flirting with you. I guess that's what I love about you though.

So, about that rod... I'm guessing you know already, but it's made out of Medalin Silver, straight from the isolated isle off the continent. Don't tell Murtin this part, but I stole bits of his shipments every time we got an order - for years! - and eventually I had enough to make you that staff. It took me ages to get it right, so please... Please accept it. I made the bow and the knife too but, it's the rod I really wanted you to have. I know how much you loved to practice with that dingy little stick in that field, so I'd love to see you whack some more wheat dummies with glorious Medalin Silver.

I just wanted to say one more thing, Yvanna, as the page is almost full. Read this carefully.

Without you in my life, there wouldn't be life to begin with.

I love you so much, Yvanna. I want you to be mine until the end of days.

- Garran.

Tears stained the page, melding the words together. It didn't matter. The words were already read, my heart cleaving in two.

"Garran, you fool," I whispered, folding the letter and pressing it close to my heart with a heaving breath. I had waited long enough. It was time.

I gently strapped the bow and rod to my back, and settled the knife next to my side, the weight of Garran's weapons a constant reminder of what I would carry until my deathbed.

With quiet steps I stepped out in front of the pile, dawn now splintering the night sky with it's sunny rays. I gripped the pale, now hot with the heat of the coals, and threw it on to the pile. After a moment, some of their clothes caught alight, and began to burn away the cold corpses of my village.

I waited, watching as the flames slowly lowered down to Garran, catching that soot-tipped dirty-blonde hair and spreading swiftly. I pressed two fingers to my lips, leaned down and pressed those same fingers to his own. I held it there for a moment longer, basking in the moment we never had, before I stepped away, letting the flames eat away at what could have been.

I closed my eyes, steeling myself and gripping the rod tightly, bringing it in front of me.

"Take care, my love."

I walked away into the dawn, and never looked back.