He killed him. 

The armored man had run him through and cut him down.

Well, [i]he[/i] was more of an [i]it[/i], but the voice was masculine sounding, albeit inhuman. The Prince was struck with a pang of conflicting emotions- in a way, he almost mourned for Tomb, who was, despite being unsettling and cryptic, at least [i]alive[/i] or was very good at appearing to be so. But the [i]screech[/i]; so inhuman and chilling was it that the Prince began to wonder if his initial judgements of Tomb were accurate in the slightest. He was all at once grateful and angry at the armored man for running the stone being through, and these emotions ran their course as he carefully slid down the valley, placing his sword on his back once more and hoping that his fate was different than that of Tomb's upon reaching the party. They certainly seemed a capable lot of defending themselves- two strong looking ones in the armored figure and the axe-bearing woman, and two quick and deceptive looking ones in the bell-hatted and black-clad one. But these were just first glances- he had probably misjudged them all, as he was certain he had Tomb. 

Approaching the armored man the Prince said a silent prayer of thanks for not finding a new addition of bladed steel in his belly and had begun to formulate an appropriate introduction and questions in his mind- surely he shouldn't introduce himself as [i]The Prince of Lies[/i], should he? That'd be an awkward start. No, simply [i]The Prince[/i] would do. But would these people mistrust him still, even for the word's connection to the crown? It certainly seemed the armored one would; he would, no doubt, question the Prince's successorship and ask what king he served. The Prince had no clue if he was even a Prince, much less who he may have been the direct heir to. 

He had sorted that in his mind, he would introduce himself as the Prince, regardless, and play the 'royalty' card for as long as it could be of use, if there was even any use to titles in this land. If he had to, he was even prepared to create a mock image of a king in his mind; from one of his memories, he had a bit to go off of. But the armored man had mentioned something the Prince hadn't heard or, seemingly experienced; [i]the Turning of the Light[/i], he had called it. Didn't sound like the most welcome of things. Perhaps if the Prince could ask questions quickly enough, he could stave off introductions until he could create a better moniker in his head-

"How did you find us here! Were you followed?" 

Damn it all, the armored man had beat him to it. The Prince flinched as he found cold metal gauntlets grasping the cuff of his robe, rubbing against his neck. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

"Only-" The Prince had only gotten a word out before it felt like his mind exploded into a world of color- no, not just color, but [i]shapes[/i], [i]sounds[/i]! He was [i]remembering[/i] something! He [i]remembered[/i] this man! It had been so long since he had experienced a new memory that he almost took the scene in his head for an intruder, some sort of fallacy the land was trying to use against him. But no, this was [i]vivid[/i]; this particular memory made the Prince cringe. 

The memory of his death.

Not his death in his past life, however, of which the Prince was fairly certain he already pertained. No, the Prince had died in this land before; how long ago, he was not sure. He remembered lying on a stone floor, this armored man there with him. The Prince was in pain, felt blood seeping out of him from [i]somewhere[/i]. But most prominently in this memory was that [i]thing[/i]. That stone [i]thing[/i] that had followed him and was only moments ago cut down by the armored man. 

The Prince played this new memory over and over in his head while the armored man looked to be asking him more questions, but the Prince was not listening. He simply stared back, flummoxed  and at a loss for words. 

"Have you met an old man with a walking stick?" 

The Prince merely shook his head, almost more out of reflex than comprehension of the question.

[i]"Do you remember me?"[/i] 

[i]I do.[/i] Thought the Prince. Before he could answer back, the armored man turned away and began addressing the [i]Turning of the Light[/i] once more. Unfortunately, the Prince's new memory did little to lift his inquiry of the event. That mattered little, however, for it seemed that the Prince was about to [i]experience[/i] it, in all of its horrid beauty. 

The bell-hatted figure was shouting that the Light was Turning and, following his gaze, the Prince felt his heart sink into his stomach. He caught a glimpse of one of the most horrifying things he had ever laid eyes upon, and the bell-hatted one didn't need to tell the Prince twice to [i]RUN[/i]. Glancing behind him everyone else seemed to be following suit, except the armored figure. 

[i]No! No, no, I can't let this happen. Not so soon.[/i] The Prince hesitated between strides, unsure of what he felt was the right thing to do.

"You must leave this place!"

The Prince began a steady jog, his gaze not leaving the metal bulwark.

"Find what I have lost."

He was unsure of what he meant- perhaps that was why the party had gathered, to help the armored man?

"Find the Crown, find your way Home!"

The Prince felt as though the armored one was speaking directly to him. Perhaps he really [i]had[/i] been a Prince. He looked away and erupted into a full sprint. 

"Tell me, creatures of the Empty Land- Which king do you serve?"

The Prince felt chills up and down his spine.