Tears drip down my face as I look in horror at this devilish gem, lying in the tangled web of Zena Zla's reign, stares me in the face. Surely there is a mistake. My father is innocent of any wrong doing. Two guards standing at the front of the line grab my father's bony arms and drag him up the steps. The wear the brand of tyranny - Zena Zla, but no person, however cruel or kind, can live with that amount of guilt resting on their shoulders. No person can sleep peacefully at night knowing they've dragged an innocent being to their death. An amount of inhumanity is needed to achieve this naivety of such terrible standards, so what are they? Helmets of stained indigo steel adorn their hidden faces and they wear red robes of linen underneath decorated armour. They are known as The Pacifidores in the village and no one knows who they are or where they came from. Some fables fallen from the mouths of older folk say they were once magnificent warriors native to Shade, who fell under Zena Zla's domination and became under an enchantment of loyalty to her. Others say that if you remove the helmet of a Pacifidore you won't see a face glaring back at you, you will see only crepuscular darkness of the evil that they have committed.

Well nothing matters now, they are monsters, all of them. They have treachery of the highest kind through my eyes and they will suffer the same fate as their wicked mistress. I go to run after my trembling father, crumbling under the force he is being pulled, but two serrated spears cross over in front of me, locking me behind them like a prisoner of war. I watch my father be further and further taken up to the highest point of the temple and the stone doors widen. It felt painful with the other tributes, to see the frozen faces of horror of loved ones amongst the pitying crowd. Now all I feel is my heart breaking in my chest with the excruciating agony of the tears running down my face onto a cold stone floor. I collapse to the ground, looking around for someone to stop this corrupt revenge on life itself, but all I find is the patronising look of pity from the people in the crowd.

I see my father at the top, doors wide open with Zena Zla standing in front of him. As my father kneels before her, a devilish smile creeps across her face. She walks around him and raises her arms to the baying congregation. "Behold, my devoted followers. The final tribute of Valitsmallh about to give his most precious sacrifice: his life. And I am most pleased with your cede, but I believe I need to test your loyalty to me and the monarchy of Shade. So, as of tomorrow Valitsmallh will be every fortnight", she shouts with a malicious voice. A soon as the words spill from her mouth and turn the vision of every person below her red, a spear, sharpened and thrown with the force of someone who has lost someone, flies through the air towards Zena Zla. It is inches away from impact, but she moves away at incredible speed, faster than a bullet and the spear embeds in the temple wall. She pulls it out and throws it forcefully back into everyone standing below her, hitting someone. I couldn't see his or her's face, but I saw the blood, the crimson blood running down into the sacred pool. I look around desperately for an answer to my questions and then a man runs towards me with a body slung across his shoulder. He drops him at my feet and I see the spear protruding out of a maroon coloured wound in his chest. My gaze runs from his feet to his face, a familiar one underneath the blood drying on it. I take a corner of my shirt and gently rub it off to reveal my second worst nightmare: my brother's lifeless face staring back at me.