Jordan laid in bed. He was going to join the Guardians just the next day, and hoped he could get some sleep. Outside, the wind blew gently, trees rustling lightly, the sound lulling him into a deep, precious sleep....

Wind howled, and demons laughed. A man was knelt on the ground, covered in cuts and bruises from head to toe. His blond hair was matted with blood, his face covered in it. Some of it was not his own. His battered sword, in terrible condition, was in the ground, him using it to stand back up, determined to fight again. He growled out a challenge, raising his blade, a potion at his lips. His eyes glowed a bright white, blood flying in all directions, his cuts still there, but the bleeding slowly ceasing. He stood up fully, sword glowing....

Jordan quickly awoke. "What the hell was that...?" He asked himself. "That was no potion that did that... What did he DO?" He shook his head. "No, must've been a dream. Nothing else it could have been." He stood up slowly, shaking his head, but then saw a form in the corner. His hand quickly went to the sword at his bedstand, only to find it not there. He immediately went into an aggressive pose, glaring at the figure. "Who are you?" A growl escaped his throat, as he knew that was no trick of the light. The black, shadowy figure slowly stepped forward... And revealed the Guardian from yesterday. 

"Come on, boy. We have to get out of here." He tossed him his sword, still in its sheath, and Jordan caught it effortlessly, clipping it onto his belt with a satisfying snap. "What is it?" He asked, throwing on a cloak in a swift motion. 

"Darkness comes for us. They know where you are. We have to leave, now."

"W-what?! My family is still here!"

"They'll be fine. They only want you. Now, hurry!" Jordan nodded, grabbing his pouch of coins and book. 

"Let's do this."