Adrenaline surged through Williams limbs, filling him with new vigor. Drawing his sword back for the first swing, he released a raw, primal scream. All of his frustration, fear, and pent-up anger poured into that one sound, empowering his swing as he brought his blade down on the first man he reached. The slurping crunch that followed was one that would haunt his dreams until his dying days, of that he was sure. The shock of the blow travelled up the sword, stung his hands, and jarred his teeth. Blood sprayed into the air.

Stunned, William peered down at the man he'd just slain. Disgust churned his gut, both at the sight and at the knowledge that such gore had come by his own hand. Bile rose in his throat, but he forced it back down with a swallow. It was necessary, he told himself as he turned away. Such is the cost of war. I didn't ask for this—they did. And if it's bloodshed they want... He batted away an oncoming blow with the flat of his sword, kept the momentum going by arcing the blade over his head, and then brought it down on the shoulder of his attacker. It's bloodshed I'll give them!

William kicked the fatally wounded man in the chest, effectively extricating him from the end of his sword, and stepped over him to face his next foe. Fellow Warriors joined him on either side, forming a line against the men pouring through the breach. Sparing a glance back over his shoulder, William saw that more reinforcements were bleeding in from the streets by the second, joining their ranks to help push back the enemy. Then swiveling his gaze forward once more, he ducked under a poorly handled swing and thrust the tip of his sword into the soft flesh bellow the man's chest piece. As the man fell, William stole a dagger from his belt and, with a flick of his wrist, sent it flying into the eye socket of an enemy further out.

The length of well-sharpened steel was like an extension of William's arm as he blocked, parried, swung, and thrust. The weight of his sword was as familiar to him as an old friend and twice as trustworthy. Careful to conserve his energy, he tried to end each foe with as few strikes as possible, but some of them proved harder to best than others.

"Would you simply die, already?" he shouted in frustration at one such man. They'd traded several blows with neither one able to gain the upper hand. Finally, William resorted to a less-than-honorable fighting style. Feinting a strike to the man's leg, he released one hand from the hilt of his sword to bring it up in a fist and drive it into the man's nose. With a crunch, the bone gave way and the man staggered backward with a cry of pain.

Finally! William thought with relief when he saw the opening. Rushing forward, he aimed a thrust at his foe's unprotected abdomen, but at the last moment, the man brought up his sword defensively and parried the strike. "Oh by all that is sacred," William swore, "please just give up!" The man's lips spread in a defiant, bloody grin, but then he erupted in flames. His screams pierced the air while William spun around to see who had caused the sudden combustion.

"Rissa!" His eyes grew round in surprise. "What are you doing here? I told you to protect the others."

"No," she argued while striding over the corpses to reach his side. "You told me to get them to safety, which I did. Now I've come to help you."

"You should have stayed back. I don't want you anywhere near here."

Marissa temporarily ignored her brother as she cast a ball of fire at an approaching enemy.

"And stop doing that; you're wasting your energy. A blow from a sword drains much less of your stamina than to use magic."

"And how much energy do you think you're wasting by standing here arguing with me instead of fighting like your supposed to?" she snapped.

"Don't try to change the subject. You know I'm right."

"Yes, of course," she rolled her eyes while her words dripped sarcasm. "The eldest is always ri—." She sucked in a sharp gasp. "Look out!" she screamed.

Dropping her blade, Marissa rushed forward and tackled her brother, swinging him around until she was between him and whatever threat she'd foreseen.

As they fell, William looked past her and felt himself pulling away from the scene unfolding before him. He only watched as the sharp tip of a spear struck her in the back, knocking her into him. The force of the blow drove through her armor and shattered her chainmail before plunging into the soft flesh underneath. Disbelief held him immobile as William felt her tense against him and then go suddenly limp. The ground rose up to meet them, and his helmeted skull cracked against the cobblestones.

The impact was enough to finally jar him from his stupor.

"N-no..." he choked out.

Then, the culprit was standing over them with short sword in hand, ready to finish the job. He raised his blade, adjusted his feet for balance, and began the weapon's rapid decent.

Something soul-deep erupted within William. In an explosion of rage and fear, all that was within him raced to protect the blood of his blood. Flinging himself atop his sister, William cast his magic in an unfocused and uncontrolled blast towards their attacker. The ground beneath them shuttered with the wild force of it as fragments of earth jutted upward in sharp and jagged angles. Numerous screams pierced the air as William's attack carved a conical path twelve men deep into the enemy's ranks.

The man before them stood frozen, wide-eyed with shock. His sword fell from his grasp and clanged to the cobblestones as his mouth worked open and closed like a fish out of water. A choking gurgle sounded from within his throat before his eyes finally glazed over and he slumped forward, held aloft only by the rocky spike plunged through his middle.

William sagged with relief but then stiffened just as quickly when he felt his sister jerk beneath him. Pushing up onto his hands and knees, he hovered over her as a wave of tremors wracked her body while she lay curled on her side. Blood seeped slowly around the spear still lodged in her back, and Marissa's face was as pale as a moonflower's petals.

"Rissa?" William spoke softly, cupping her face with his hand. "You—you're gonna be all right, okay? Just don't give up on me. You... you can't die."

"W-Will..." She struggled to force out the words as her breaths became more shallow. "William..."

"A healer. You just need a healer." Rising up onto his knees, William craned his neck in every direction searching for the white garb of the healers. "Help!" He screamed into the chaos around him. "Help! I need a healer!" his voice rose in pitch as he grew more desperate. "Please..., it's my sister."

"William, it's okay," Marissa wheezed.

"No! No, it's not okay!" he shouted. "I'm not letting this happen."

Suddenly, a Warrior broke free from the fighting all around and knelt before the pair. "I heard your call, but the healers are stationed behind the battle lines." He motioned to the darkness behind him. "We'll have to bring your sister to them."

William didn't even hesitate. Snatching up the dead man's sword, he brought it down on the shaft of the spear protruding from Marissa's back and broke it off near the wound. Then, tossing the sword aside, he lifted his sister into his arms.

She cried out at the movement.

"I'm sorry," he whispered before kissing her hair. "I'm so sorry."

"This way," the man urged.

With steel flashing left and right, the unknown Warrior cut down any foe who dared stand in their way. William kept at his heels, cradling Marissa like a child while she continued to twitch and jerk. Glancing down, his stomach plummeted when he noticed her complexion—now possessing a grayish sheen. Her breaths, too, had changed. Now, they only came in intermittent, shallow gasps. William's eyes widened as his heart raced ever faster. Sweat gathered at the nape of his neck and bile hovered at the back of his throat.

"We have to hurry," he shouted to his companion. "She's fading much too quickly."

The unknown Warrior glanced back at them over his shoulder and nearly stumbled at the sight of her condition. Facing forward once more, he doubled his pace and the ferocity of his swing until they finally broke through the line. They paused briefly while the leading man gathered his bearings. Once he determined their course, the Warrior broke into a run with William right behind him.

"We're almost there, Rissa," William encouraged as they ran. "Keep fighting, okay? I need you to stay strong for me. You can make it. I know you can. You just have to try." The road in front of them blurred from his vision, and he could no longer determine whether it was from the rain or his tears.

Finally, blessedly, their destination came into view. A white flag tied to a hanging wooden sign signaled that the healers had set up a makeshift ward in the shelter of an herbalist's shop. Several soldiers stood guard outside, but they parted upon sighting the trio. One even rushed to open the door for them. William barreled inside and only drew to a halt when he stood directly in front of one of the healers.

"She's dying," he blurted in a rush. "You must help her, quickly!"

The healer ushered them to the back of the room and motioned to a large table. "Lay her on her side here. Gently!"

William did as he was told then moved out of the way.

The healer was old, with hair grayed and thinning, but his hands were steady and quick as he moved them over the young woman's form. She no longer twitched or jerked. Instead, she lay as still as death beneath the healer's ministrations.

Balling his hands into fists, William fought to rein in his emotions, but the tears would not be stayed. And when the old healer's shoulders sagged, William could not contain the strangled cry that wrenched from his throat.

"No! It can't be too late. It can't be! Check her again. Please!" His voice came out as an anguished shriek. "You have to at least try. You have to!"

The healer turned slowly to face William with head lowered and features sagging in sympathy. "I'm sorry," he peered out from beneath thick eyebrows at the weeping man before him, "but there's nothing that can be done. She's lost too much blood and is too far gone."

"That can't be! She's lost very little blood from the wound. Can't you see?"

"Her bleeding is internal," he gently explained. "The only reason the visible bleeding appears minor is because the spear shaft is plugging the wound. Were I to remove it, the true amount of blood she has lost would then be revealed."

William collapsed to his knees. Someone placed a hand on his shoulder from behind, but he couldn't focus through the haze to even wonder whose hand it was.

"The best thing you can do now," the healer continued, "is simply remain with her as she passes. She needs you near. She should not die alone."

William forced himself to stand and staggered to his sister's side. Lifting his helmet from his head, he set it aside then removed his greaves as well. After wiping his eyes and nose on a sleeve, he took Marissa's hands in his and brought them to his chest. Clutching them to his heart with just one of his hands, he used his other to begin brushing strands of her hair back from her face and tucking them behind her ear. He leaned heavily against the sturdy wooden table where she rested as silent sobs shook his frame.

"Rissa, I'm so sorry," he whispered between sobs. "I'm so sorry. This is my doing."

Marissa's hand twitched beneath his and he saw her struggle to move her lips. "N-no...." She drew in a gasp. "M-my fault." One eyelid lifted slightly to allow her to peer up at him. "I didn't... didn't listen."

Shaking his head, William tried to argue with her but he couldn't speak past the emotion clogging his throat.

"I...," she sucked in another gasp. "I l-love...," a grimace of pain flashed across her features, "you, don-donkey rear."

A strangled, choking sound erupted from William as he bowed over his sister and pressed his forehead to her temple. "Rissa, no."

"Don't...," she tried to continue. "Don't blame...." She sucked in several sharp breaths in rapid succession, jerked a final time, and then released the air from her lungs in a sigh.

William froze. He waited a moment for her to draw another breath and continue, but when she didn't, he drew back to take in her face. A glassy stare was all that met his gaze, and her chest no longer rose and fell.

"Rissa?"

She didn't stir.

He whispered more softly, "Rissa?"

"I'm sorry, son," the old healer spoke from behind. "She's gone."

William's mouth parted in a soundless cry and his entire body bowed forward under the weight of his grief.

His hand still gripped hers against his chest, and after sucking in a couple of breaths, he brought them up to his lips and kissed each one. Next, he lowered his mouth to her temple and planted a kiss there as well. His tears stained her cheek as he hovered over her and took in her features once more. Then, he arranged her hands to rest near her head, making it look as though she were sleeping, and turned away. He stumbled towards the door, but only made it a few feet before the world suddenly lurched around him and blackness filled his vision. He was aware of the sensation of falling, and then, nothing.