Flowryde's vision was filled with radiant hues, flames grew from a point in the distance, a deep orange and red rushing towards his being as they greedily lick every inch of him but he felt no sensation of pain. Flowryde was suspended in a compact, gaseous fluid as a thousand faces and snippets of conversation flash by his consciousness in a blur. Suddenly an image stood out among the onslaught of a myriad faces. It was the High Priestess Olwyn, her kindly features were smiling at him and as abruptly as it came, the image contorted into a demonic vision of a hooded deformed being, its eyes gleaming a beady red ember, laughing before the image shattered into a million pieces of glass. 

"The Occult has spoken to you in a different way...." His head was spinning. " ...something is approaching that will change the coven..." he felt bile built at the back of his throat which mingled with the smoky scent of incense. "...It is late." His vision was swimming but he could vaguely perceive his surrounding and noticed the presence of witches around him as his legs carried him towards a voice. 

A harsh scream broke him out of his reverie, Flowryde realised that the smell of smoke was not from the incense but rather the whole temple in flames. Alarmed he stared around in horror as the flames rapidly devoured pillars and beams. His home was burning before him. The pedestal, where the high priestess would conduct the rituals, now laying in a pile of ash, golden statues were crumbling as the fire ate its way across the floor. The arch way leading to the Templar quarters stood ominously at the back as the dark haze obscure what destruction hidden behind them. The sight spurred Flowryde into action, wrapping his head in his cloak, he raced across the floor into the dark arch way. Black fumes stung his eyes as he foraged deeper into the inferno. Luckily, he was dressed in his only set of battle dress robes which were flame retardant and protected him somewhat from the heat. Past the grand hall, the flames were less intense and he navigated past the corridors which had not caught the worst of the flames. 
As he reached his room, he was relieved that the protection glyphs he had placed all across his living space had kept his belongings safe. Uncertain if the room would survive, he packed his glyph making set and a few leather bound books into a sling bag. ripping out a floor board, he procured a book The High Priestess had entrusted to him entitled "Le Gene D'Cerf". This artifact had been the Lady's last gift and request to Flowryde, he would protect it to his grave. Lastly, he dumped a bucket of water on his blanket before using the blanket as a shield against the flames. Surveying his room for what might be the last time, emotions well up in his eyes. Flowryde vowed to destroy whoever that was behind this as he hurried back to the main hall towards the main exit.
 
The journey this time was more perilous as the fire was raging at its peak. Reaching Vexia, he saw that mostly everyone had vacated the hall save the witch who had sacrifice herself for the sake of others. Flowryde threw his blanket over her, attempting to shield her from the smoke.