Lyse sat on the dirt road that led to what used to be his home. Now, it was a hollow shell of Ash and cinders slowly sputtering under the cold night. His lungs still heaved as if still filled with smoke, but he did not care enough to notice. His hands were still caked in his father's blood, and he stared into the burnt house where his body still lay. He did not look at his mother, her unconscious body still lying limp a few meters away. He was still trying to comprehend the past few hours. Was it even real? Of course, it is, he convinced himself. Not even in his wildest dreams could he conjure such things. The only question left for him to ask was why. Why did this happen?

He was so engrossed with his thoughts that he did not notice the call of his own name. Then, slowly, as if pulled from the abyss, he came to realize the wolf sage shouted his name, holding onto a wound on the side of his mother's gut with a determined look in her eyes.

"Pay attention," she told him. Then, she grabbed both of his hands and forcefully pressed them over her wound. "Apply pressure. Do not let go."

He didn't notice till then, but he had been crying this whole time. He looked at his mother's face as his tears watered it, and his vision grew bleary. She was strained, and her eyes fluttered beneath her lids as if she was witnessing her own nightmare. There was so much blood. The wolf sage pulled a large satchel from her back, setting it before her, and began rummaging the contents for supplies. She pulled out small sacs of powder and bones of some small petrified creature and a small ceramic bowl. She finally pulled guise, which he held while she began mashing the herbs in her mouth. She began mixing it all together, and she picked some with her finger. The wounds were bleeding horribly, even through the cracks of his fingers, and he could see his mother's face become paler and paler. He slowly lost his breath, his heart threatening to seize now.

"Please save her," he whispered, but the wolf sage did not respond. Every ounce of her concentration was poured upon this treatment. He wondered why she had not used that healing technique he used on him. But the thought was momentary in his scrambled mind.

She began repairing and mending as best she could. She rubbed the paste within the wound, and Lyse saw as his mother's body lurched, and she groaned in pain. Lyse knew little of medicine. It was not something that he usually made himself familiar with, as it was something the doctors learned. But never had he felt the urge to learn something than watching his mother writhe in agony. She took the guise from his slack hands and instructed him to hold his mother up as she was done applying to the wounds. As she wrapped the snow-white bandages around these various wounds, they were quickly stained as they absorbed more blood. The bleeding did eventually slow, and he grew steady breath.

"Thank you," Lyse said to her. "Thank you so much.'

She looked to his house, a little out of breath herself now. She saw flames sputter about in their dances, not as energetic as before. Several bodies laid limp with slit throats and crushed skulls. These are obvious signs of a battle. She could smell the blood still. The mix of scents and pheromones permeated the air. The chaotic air was too complex for her to unravel. There was no way she could track down whoever was responsible. And because she followed his boy into the woods, she has potentially lost two people she was supposed to protect.

She stood up and looked down at Lyse with a fierce blue glare. It wasn't hated per se, but the next words made her emotion very clear.

"What were you doing wandering that forest?" she chastised. Her voice was a bit airy, words coming out in quickened clumps distinguishable for someone from Lykos. Lyse still sat on the ground, his hands on his head as his mind began pulsing angrily. Her focus seemed to drift from him back to something beyond the horizon slowly. "They planned this. They targeted Massua and you. They . . . "

"What do they want?' Lyse said in another small voice, panicked now. "Why us? Why my sister? Mom and dad."

The wolf sage stayed silent, and a sympathetic look spread across her face as she looked down at Lyse. For a long time, she observed him. Now he was close to breaking apart at his seams. Of course, she has seen a lot of this before. But, she was impressed all the same. Because he was not yet broken, he was still thinking. Even after the tragedy was forced upon him, he was still thinking. And that was when she remembered something important and turned back to him with newfound urgency.

"The pendant," she whispered and looked back onto him, stepping closer. "Do you have it?"

He paused, then looked down at his chest, his clothes loosely hanging off his frame from the rough treatment through the forest and where that Thirian from Arkouda had nearly struck him dead. But still there, dangling and untouched, sat the pendant. Its smooth emerald and Lapis crystals are still faintly glowing and pulsing as if paced with the rhythmic pulse of his own heart. He took it in hand and clutched it close to his heart.

"What about it?" He asked her. She knelt to get at eye level, then leaned closer. Her eyes seemed to analyze 0his being.

"She gave it to you . . ." She whispered and gave a puzzled look. The look confused him. It was as if she told him that he shouldn't have it. That it didn't belong to him. This made him furrow his brow in misty confusion as well. But neither could throw another question to the other as the noise of chatter, clanking of metal rose upon them. The two of them sat; a party of soldiers and civilians rushed on. A few immediately ran to the house with buckets of water. There were some familiar faces, but Lyse could hardly focus on them. So many looked soot burdened already as they approached the knights with little Knicks here and there beneath their armor. The only one seemingly untouched was the doctor. A woman in thick black robes that rippled with the night, a porcelain mask resembling a young woman's nose and mouth covered all but her eyes. She was the one who immediately rushed to Celia's side.

"What happened here?" Sir Gabbes walked towards the two of them now standing. Lyse was still covered in a decent amount of blood and debris, and his cheeks were still wet with drying tears. The wolf sage walks towards him. Though she was about a foot under him in height, her vibrant eyes made her presence equal. Lykos has always been a close companion, even among the clans. They held the most in any border skirmishes with the frostlanders, as they hold most of the borders themselves. But they were still unsteady, somehow, their swords only pointing to the ground, not sheathed.

"State your purpose," Gabbes told her, a harsh tone Lyse thought he only held for new squires.

She spoke surely and confidently, the soothing tone absent now. "My name is Makyra Donalus, a knight of Lykos," she saluted, placing her fist over her heart and bowing. Gabbes did the same, although a little stiffly.

"What is a Knight from Lykos doing here in Liontari?" He asked, gazing now at the wreckage before everyone as they watched the last embers sputter out under a bucket of water. "The king's order Knights."

"Indeed, and I've been given orders by your king James. I was tracking some rogues from my clan when I came upon this tragedy."

She gestured to Lyse and his mother. Lyse stared at the two, and his mind began to fill with questions now that were apparent on his ashen face. He was not too familiar with the knight, but she was not telling the truth, not the complete truth. The way she nearly fired at him and asked him why he left. It made it sound very much like she was following him, watching him since he even left the house. There was definitely something off about her as well. She seemed even more troubled about this than she appeared. Her desperate nature when trying to mend his mother's wounds. He was more than curious about her now.

Makyra looked back to Lyse. "King James has called upon me to track these rogues, and I was late to arrive and confront them. I am . . . truly sorry."

Lyse didn't respond, looking down at the ground once again as he tried to understand her words. Gabbes looked sadly down at Lyse, the boy he had been training for about a decade now. He remembered the first time he saw him, the first day he was in Broken Arrow. By that time, he thought nothing of the town or people. It was just another village, narrowly unaffected by the war and kept in relative normalcy for far too long. For a while, he accepted no one until he was approached by Wilbur and Celia, along with their son, who dreamed of being a knight. Almost obsessed. He didn't seem so different then. Just have a particular interest in reading. He was slower than the rest. Not quite as endurant, and it was clear he had not been working in the fields for long. But, slowly, Gabbes had watched him grow and grow. Becoming sharper with every strike he took and more hearty the more he ran. He was proud to see him grow to the point where he had become a knight. Yet, he was stricken down from his newfound height on the very same day.

"Son," he said, and immediately Lyse looked up to him. He saw his furrowed and thoughtful expression. "I think it best that you go to the capital now to continue your journey to knighthood."

Lyse looked up to him with an incredulous surprise. "You want me to leave the village? Now? My mom . . . My sister."

Gabbes held up a steady hand, halting his hurried rambling, and clutched the pommel of his sword. "Listen, son. Your dad wanted you to become a knight. Your mother will be fine and under our protection. They would say the same if either were here to tell you themselves."

Lyse looked around sadly as if he was searching for some excuse to stay. He saw his father's body being lifted out of the rubble and then placed carefully on a cart. The doctor glanced at the half-burned bodies, her dark eyes glazed. They covered him with thick brown sheets. He saw the crowd shift uncomfortably, some surrounding his father's cart in melancholy. The sound of the crackling fire was now extinguished, leaving only the bitter smell of smoke and burnt wood. Makyra looked on uncomfortably as Lyse's mother was carried away as well, the doctor still attending to all that Makyra left untreated. Then, from the crowd, Edlund appeared, drenched in sweat as if he sprinted to each corner of the walls. He seemed out of breath, as if he had been running as fast as he could. He just caught the Knight's last words and could see the distressed look on Lyse's face. He didn't want to see his friend leave now, alone like this.

He immediately stepped up to the two of them, in the center of the crowd where the sage also seed anxiously waited for something. He clutched his blade and puffed out his chest in salute.

"Sir Gabbes," he said, getting the attention of everyone, and his chest and words seemed to deflate under pressure. "I'm . . . Lyse and I . . . I wish to go with him to the capital as well. We have both trained together for years. I believe that we are close in terms of skill."

"Edlund," Gabbes began, but Edlund seemed keen on convincing him.

"You can not deny it," he said. "I have nowhere else. No home and no family besides those whose home I have shared. Let me-"

"Edlund," his voice was sharp but empathetic. He gave a slow sigh as he pulled out another letter from his pouch of similar make as the one Lyse had. "This arrived last night. I wish not to spoil the surprise, but you are right. You have worked hard your entire life. Proving yourself alongside those more fortunate than yourself. And for this, you are one of the greatest students I have ever taught in my years. I planned this to be the next day, but Fate forced my hand. So, do you swear to protect your nation and king by the crown and sword? To be a shield against all forms of terror, protector of roads and civilians?"

Edlund bent to his knees and grasped the blade lightly. While his expression was grateful, and his words proved his devotion, he did not realize what was being placed on his shoulders until Gabbes said those oaths. He said slowly: "I swear upon my own name."

Gabbes swiftly pulled the sword away, opening shallow cuts on Edlund's hands. He gritted his teeth and nearly cursed but managed to fight through the pain. Gabbes bandaged it and then turned to both he and Lyse. "Through trial and trial, you have both endured. Grief and hardship. And so, you must not allow such tribulation to impede your path. You must continue. And the capital will be where your path leads. Your home will always be here, but your heart is also with the empire."

They both bowed to him. Lyse smiled weakly at Edlund, who looked at him as well. He looked around the crowd once more, who politely clapped for just witnessing a knight of a peasant. Edlund is being recognized but was mainly overshadowed greatly by sadness still apparent on all of their faces. Gabbes cleaned his blade, looking into the dimness of night as the fires now became cold. The night was still strong and holding. Everyone needs to rest now. Finally, and meekly, they returned back to their homes in commotion. The sages and knights returned to their posts, and Celia Opal was carried to be treated for her wounds. Soon, only Lyse, Edlund, Sir Gabbes, and the sage Makyra remained.

"You will leave at dawn," he told the two of them. "The seals will confirm your knighthood."

"I can't thank you enough," Lyse said in a small voice, his eyes still unwavering while trained on the house he once called home."I . . . What do I do now?"

Gabbes looked to the sage, surprisingly, who seemed to of been waiting patiently for them to finish. "Since she also seems to be headed in the same direction, you will follow her through the forest and to the Capital. I hope this will not be an issue."

He gave a curious eye to her, and she waved a dismissive hand in response. "Of course not. Pretty ironic, a sage escorting knights."

"I wish to take you myself," Gabbes told both of them. "But I am needed here. I will send word to you, Lyse, when the burning of your father is." He placed a gentle rugged hand on his shoulder. "And also your mother, when she is revived. I wish you luck on your travels. Be safe."

He patted him on his shoulder, leaving Lyse with the parchment in his hand as he headed down the dirt road to the main town. Edlund sat nervously, his hands shaking as he looked at the wreckage, seeing nothing but ash and destruction. He spent a lot of his childhood here, playing and working. Besides the orphanage, he slept and ate; this was his only home. Yet, so many years seemed to be erased in a night. And he can't even imagine what was going through Lyse's head as he, too, stared in dismay at the shell. Obviously, he never had parents, but he knows how close his family was. And along with his sister, whose body can't even be found, he knows that weights have been set on his shoulders.

"Lyse . . ." He said, just loud enough for him to hear, and he saw Lyse's body tense as if jolted to reality. "They sent me for help. I-I'm-"

"It's . . . fine," he said, not turning around. Edlund knew that was a lie. Lyse clutched onto his pendant with white knuckles, the emerald green glowing a vibrant green in his hands and bathing his body in soothing energy. But when he talked again, his voice was shaking with anger as tears fell to the ground. "I swear, Massua, I'll find you. I'll avenge our father."

Edlund nodded, twisting his grip a bit on the letter he held. "Me too. You can count on me to help you. Whoever these people are, we'll find them. We'll rescue your sister for whatever it takes."

"Don't be too sure," the sage seemed to pop back into reality for them, silent till now. "You know not the enemy you face. They are ruthless, and they don't do things without weighing the obstacles."

"You seem very familiar with them," Lyse observed, narrowing his eyes and his grip settling on his blade. "Who are you?"

"Like I told the squire," she said, sensing the challenging gaze upon her. "I have been hunting them since they crossed the Lykos borders."

"Then who are they?" Edlund questioned, his words seemingly becoming harder.

"No one someone like you should face," she said in a grave voice. We do not have time. Where are the stables of this town? We will need something to travel quickly."

"I have some horses," Lyse pointed to the barn just a few hundred paces from the house, where all of the animals laid in rest. Inside, his family kept about five fully grown horses. They are rarely used unless they are traveling to other villages. There is little reason for them to travel anywhere outside the village. A few years ago, Lyse saw them in use when his father traveled to a nearby village to trade some livestock for seeds. That was the last time then. The seeds did not perform all that well, and he settled on what wares merchants would come by to barter. He already missed that, he thought. He missed his father's stubborn yet calculative ways.

The knight agreed to use the horses, and Lyse dusted off the saddles that sat on dry-hung racks. The horses were still timid, and a few had to be stirred awake. Lyse saw no sign of entry since he locked the doors earlier that day. But he felt a stir in his senses, and he heard as hay was suddenly shifted that seemed unanimous-like. He unsheathed his sword and pointed it straight at the source in one of the empty stables without hesitation. He heard a small squeak, a familiar one, and sighed as he sheathed his sword. Lidia climbed out of the stables, her clothes covered in prickly hay fibers.

"What are you doing here," he asked, throwing the saddle over the horse's broad back and securing the straps. Lidia seemed to catch onto his irritable tone and gave him a sideways glance.

"What got you all cranky?" She asked him, and he froze, slowly turning.

"You mean you . . . how did you sleep through all that? What are you doing here?"

"I didn't feel like going home," she said, a bit of hesitance in her voice. "I know that I should talk to them, but . . . "

Lyse wasn't listening. Instead, he grabbed her arm, and some complaints were thrown as a result, and dragged her outside the barn. She chastised him for his rudeness until she saw the wreckage, and her voice went stiff. Her eyes widened at the devastation, the burned carcass of Lyse's home now charcoal and ash. It did annoy him how she was able to even sleep through the apparent carnage, how she even dared to rest, not even a stone's throw of what happened. But he calmed himself. He rather her be in that barn than lying beside his father, injured or worse.

"What happened?" She said in a small voice. "Are . . . is your family alright?"

There were a few silent moments before Lyse spoke again. The silence that filled the air seemed to fill Lidia's face with dread. Eventually, Lyse answered back, his mind slowing down from the race of questions. "My mom is ok, I think. But my dad . . . he didn't make it."