With the grip of fatigue on his heels, Rhoynar made the journey from his youngest sibling's room to his own. The soft tap of leather against stone barely echoed in the quiet halls. Outside lingered the sound of music and cheering, merriment and ecstasy. Tonight was a new moon, a symbol in the Second East. The people of Astipor would not sleep until the first dawns light, each having spent the night singing their praise to a goddess long forgotten across the ocean and along the valleys of Illium. She lived as Eyo in the East, a women more beautiful than any mortal could describe. Skin as white as the moon and hair as black as the night she dwelled in. She was loved by all those who followed the faith. The city outside barely seemed to disturb the walls of Rhoynar's home. Nothing but silence and the faint footfalls of a man so previously troubled by the words of a worm in a brothel. 

His feet carried the empty shell to his room, hands locking the door behind him as if purely out of routine. There existed no thought as he disrobed and dropped into the silk below, olive skin against rich red silk. It was a strange material, leeching the heat from the air to ensure the body remained cool despite the heat outside. Rhoynar eased the fabric over himself and allowed the world around him to spin as his mind raced. So much had happened in one day. He hadn't expected the day to be has eventful as it had, nor had he expected to meet someone he trusted as much as he was trusting Illinfer. The knight felt his eyes grow heavy and his thoughts fog over, knowing the pleasent embrace of sleep was only moments away. He was grateful, for tomorrow would promise him a moment with his family before he left. He thought of them before exhausted pulled him from consciousness. He thought of his mother and father, forever plagued by the loss of their son. His sister, too young to deal with the pressures of the world she was growing up in. His thoughts drifted over to his youngest brother, too young to even comprehend the dangers of the land they called home. Finally, his mind stopped on his elder brother, lost too young, leaving him without the guidance he'd had so shortly before. Then it went black, his mind consumed by fatigue, leaving him only to drift in the void of sleep.

Rhoynar didn't dream that night, not until the sound crashing and screaming broke the silence of his home. Rhoynar pushed himself from his bed, his torso laced in sweat. His hands made a desperate dash for a sword he could not find. He hunted along the floor for his belt, unable to locate it in the darkness. Panicking and frought, the man pushed himself through the heavy wooden door and into the halls beyond. The world outside seemed vibrant with fire, the horrified wailing of the city dancing painfully into the night outside. The whole place was under attack. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, bouncing and thundering against his skin, ready to burst. Illinfer had been wrong this entire time! If they'd hurried back none of this would have happened. He found his feet again and made a dash to his family's quarters. His bare feet slapped against the stone floor, burning yellow with the reflections of the world outside. How had he let his happen?! He was supposed to look after them! The rage inside seemed white hot, screaming inside his own head. 

Darting through the halls and down a set of stairs, Rhoynar hurried to his sister's room, desperate to ensure her safety. That was when he heard the first sound he hadn't ever wished to hear. A scream so shrill and so afraid it chilled him to the core. It stank of every fear he'd ever experienced. Every thought he'd never wished to happen seemed to resonate within his ears. He sprinted along the hall, almost tripping on the stairs. He made his way to the first of his family's rooms only to be greeted with a figure slumped by the door. With his heart in his mouth, Rhoynar hurried over. 

"Mother?" He muttered, kneeling by her side, ready to console her with what little time he had. Her figure remained slumped against the wall, craddling a bundle in her arms, her sobs stifled by her own exhausted. "Mother, what happened?" He muttered, the figures becoming clear as he got closer. The knight dropped to his knees as the light of the fire outside illuminated the scene in front of him. His mother's arms drenched in the red of a boy no older than nine. His face seemed twisted in a fear no boy should ever have to experience. His limp arms clutched against his mother's chest as the life slowly continued to spill from the open would on his neck. Rhoynar exclaimed his own despair, the grief ripping a hole in his chest. He lifted a hand to stroke the black hair of the boy in front, the desperate wish to comfort him. It proved fruitless since the boy remained lifeless in his mother's sobbing arms. Rhoynar pulled himself to his feet, stifling back the tears that still streamed down his face. 

"Mother, please. You have to hide." He muttered, trying to get her to stand. "Mother, please. You have to hide. We can deal with Riyon later, but first you need to be safe." His voice cracked as he spoke, the desperation growing stronger as the women refused to move. "Where's father? Do you know if Ilsa is safe?" If his mother wasn't going to move, he at least needed to locate the rest of his family. The women continued to whimper, head drooped down over her lost son. The castle seemed silent again until the same piercing scream resonated off the stone walls. His own mother seemed to scream in response, her tears and weeping growing more violent. Rhoynar stepped back, his heart thundering almost audibly. 

He wasn't even thinking as his feet carried him along stone and down the twisting halls of his home, the screaming growing in volume as he ran. There was no thought now, only fear. The closer he got to the court room, the larger the sound grew. It echoed off each wall and in his mind, racing against the fears he already had. Sprinting downstairs, Rhoynar bounded down the final flight and into the grand room ahead. The walls seemed to dance red with flames and the blood of all those who had already died. His watched four figures engage in combat, three against one. He could barely pull his eyes off the dancing shadows until the scream pulled his attention. The flames licked the windows, flooding the room with a hideous red light. The sound of clashing metal rang out, followed by a pained yell. One figure ripped a blade along the back leg of the man they fought, knocking him to the ground. Another blade followed, plunging straight into the chest of the man. 

"Father!?" Two voices called out. Rhoynar immediately searched the darkness for his sister, his eyes darting between the scene before him and the darkness of the room ahead. One final blade seemed to glint in the light before swinging clean and fast for the man's shoulders, knocking his head straight to the ground. 

"Rhoynar he-" His sister yelled, her voice trailing off into a howl as an armored hand met her cheek. The knight could do nothing but dash towards her voice. His eyes stopped on his sister, kneeling between two men clad in shining armor, each baring a symbol Rhoynar knew two well. Illyn Grey, a huge tree, ringed with flame. His hands reached for a sword on his waist only to fumbled with the side of his trousers instead. Ilsa quickly began to sob as the same three men circled him like they had his father. He felt his shoulder ache with the sudden pain of metal against skin as one man brought the hilt of his sword down, knocking him to floor in seconds. He dropped to his knees in defeat, weaponless and defeated. His eyes met with his sister's as the two men dragged her away, already clawing at her. She hadn't disappeared from sight when Rhoynar felt the sting of metal in his throat. His head swam and the world span faster and faster. He coughed up a thick liquid and felt his body growing weaker and weaker. His hands lifted to his mouth, wiping the blood from his lips. By the time the solider had pulled the blade from his neck, Rhoynar no longer saw anything.

The world seemed black for a while, yet the sound of the ocean lapped in his ears. He could feel the cool breeze on his skin, the birds singing from the gardens below. Immediately he jolted upright, hyperventilating and confused. Both his eyes darted about the room, looking for anything that seemed out of place. The sun was almost high enough to indicate noon was nearby- He climbed out of bed quietly and dressed himself without sound. Rhoynar eased the door open and stared into the hall beyond. There was no fire and the view into the city outside seemed normal. He continued onwards, sword in hand as he made his way towards the court room. He could hear the faint sound of laughter, yet he continued the walk of unease along each stone and each step until his eyes stopped on each member of his family seated around a long wooden table laiden with the remains of a breakfast he'd clearly missed.