Prologue

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A/N: A huge thanks to everyone in advance for reading and commenting on my story.


The night sky was scorched red with fire. The peaceful night had turned into a living nightmare. It had begun with the distant booming of cannon fire, awakening the village's sound sleepers and sending them screaming into the night. Then the real assault had started, as fire ate wood and metal cut through flesh. It had been far away, but it was coming closer, up the hill and through the trees.


It was far too close to me now. I could actually hear the sharp pops of ignited gunpowder as pistols were fired, again and again. I knew somewhere in the rational part of my mind that I was still hidden, but my heart leapt into my throat from fear anyhow. To my paranoid mind, my ragged breaths gave me away. They seemed even louder than the nightmare unfolding in the valley, creeping closer with every second that passed.


As I crept as quickly as I dared along the side of the house, I couldn't stop myself from glancing behind me. I strained my eyes to see non-existent followers in the darkness who might try to stop me. Even the unlit windows of the house were my enemies. The reflection of the moon and fires danced across the panes, creating the illusion of eyes that watched me with suspicion.


I paused in my escape, leaning to rest my cheek against the cool, stone façade. The belongings I'd brought with me shifted where I'd hidden them under my dark cloak, and I reached to readjust my rucksack.


Muffled voices carried over to me, the sounds threaded between those of the raid. My body was pressed against the unforgiving stone, the shadow of the house keeping me concealed. I peered around the corner, curiosity battling with sense.


At least a dozen figures had manifested in front of the manor. Their harsh whispers were joined by the sound of metal scraping. Flashes of silver, reflected by the light of the moon, reached my eyes. I retreated into the darkness, reaching inside my cloak for the reassuring hilt of my knife.


These strangers had brought with them the smoky scent of the fires and the rusty, sharp smell of blood. They moved towards the manor like lions stalking their prey, teeth bared. Pressing against the stone, I prayed I would remain undiscovered.


Suddenly, the group of raiders charged straight at the front entrance. Panicked, I darted for the cover of the trees. If I could reach the valley, I could find a way to the dock. Behind me, the wooden door gave way with a defeated thud as the raiders forced their way in. I turned to see light flooding the upstairs windows.


Soon it was the manor that became the source of the screams.

I leaned back against a solid oak tree to catch my breath, turning my eyes from the house. I had vowed to see it for the final time tonight. My farewell was swift. Securing my cloak, I took my knife in hand and sprinted into the night.

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