As Luke saw walls of flame eating away at the homes around him, he squinted angrily and winced to the shouts of the villagers fighting for their lives, the swords clanging, and the hooves shuffling and stamping about. All the fences were broken, houses... raided and ruined by a group of ten highly skilled men wearing black hooded armor with masks over their mouths.

As much as the people tried to fight back, it never mattered; the men were too swift and skilled with their weapons. They were mercilessly taking out any villager that would dare fight them.

It was starting to rain, hard, beating on Luke's scratched and bruised skin like shards of glass as the young man raced away from one of the dead villagers, Mrs. Harris, with his sword tightly grasped in one hand, a furious glare plastered on his face. She was beaten, stabbed in the torso and her throat had been slit. He had ripped his shirt off and held it over her neck as she tried to speak to him, but she was bleeding profusely. Her death was the most painful, traumatic, thing he'd ever witnessed.

She was like a grandmother to him. He and Esmé had lost all their grandparents due to old age or heart attacks, but this woman suffered so greatly in a way no good-willed person should ever experience. She had to be avenged. These monsters were going to suffer the same brutality they put her through. Luke was going to mutilate all of these men.

He ran around a corner and his reddened watery eyes fell on Alarich lying in the middle of the road with his best friend, Joby, standing next to him panicking and placing his small hands on the horse's rib-cage. Arrows protruded from many areas of Alarich's body. He must have burst out of his pin to fight.

Joby had already been wounded; his arms were sliced and an arrow was lodged in his thigh. He could barely stand, but sheer determination kept him going.

Luke ran up to them, his eyes zipping from Joby to Alarich, examining the extent of their injuries. His heart pounded like a drum and he felt as though it were burning and tearing apart like crumpling paper. He knew there was nothing he could do. He was sure only the doctor, the doctor's assistant, or Esmé could help. The chances of them still being alive though, was half and half.

Please, no. His sister had to be alive!

He jolted out a rough; "Where is Esmé ?"

Joby shook his head at Alarich as the horse breathed heavily and moved his legs. "Why, why would they hurt him? Why!" He cried.

Luke grabbed his shoulder, making him yelp and look into his eyes. Luke repeated himself, "Where is Esmé? Have you seen her? Where is Mr. Thomson?"
Joby's mouth fell slightly, eyebrows rising. "I-! The Doctor has been taken hostage. His assistant is dead! Esmé? I don't know! Last I saw her, she-" Suddenly, an arrow darted past Luke. "HNG!" It shot into Joby's stomach.

The imp fell back on Alarich with a "MMPH!", and held it in surprise. Grunting, he looked up from the arrow into Luke's eyes with pain and shock.

Luke's eyebrows shot up with worry, his pupils shrinking as he watched Joby jerk a few times before looking down again at the arrows in his stomach and leg. One of Joby's ears sprang up as he heard someone pulling back on a bow, causing him to flinch and then peer over Alarich in the direction of the archer.

Luke followed his eyes and saw a raider in one of the houses across the road. As soon as the raider knew he'd been spotted, he quickly ducked out of view. Luke grimaced and turned back to Joby and Alarich.

He snatched the Imp's hand; "Joby, listen to me. You will live. You're magical!"

Joby frowned at him, stuck between wanting to believe and trying to understand why this has happened to them—to the village. Little whines and squeals emitted from him just as the pain seemed to grow even more.

"L- Luke, don't you remember? I can't heal myself! I'm only ten years old! I don't know how!" he groaned, "I don't think I can because I'm an imp!" He began to weep and hovered his hand over his eyes. "I'm going to die, Luke."

"No, Joby stop!" Luke said.

"I can't-! I CAN'T!" Joby shakingly let go of him, wrapped his hands around one arrow and pulled slowly, his voice cracking as he screamed.

"Joby, STOP!" Luke cried.

He then heard a horse neigh along with fast hoof falls. He darted his attention in the direction of the rider and screamed; "NO!" Just as he yelled out, the raider raised his bow and shot another arrow past him.

"HN!"
The small voice suddenly jolted. And nothing followed.

Luke whirled his head around and saw Joby lying motionless with the arrow in his right eye.

The whole world stopped in that moment. His breathing was getting heavier. His heart felt shredded to pieces, his mind torn in two.

He heard the raider start pulling back on the bow. "Didn't think we'd find you, did you? Stupid boy. I saw you over that old wench I killed. She your grandmother? Hah! Well she's not anymore!"

Luke started growling quietly and then he snatched his sword, swinging it as he jumped from the ground and sprinted at the raider. The raider yanked back on the horse's reins and yelled as Luke slashed the animal's legs. As the horse collapsed, the raider threw the bow, leapt off and rolled over.

He yanked his dagger from the belt on his pants and charged at the boy. Luke smacked the raider's hand upward and shoved his boot into the man's gut, forcing him off his feet.

When the raider hit the ground, Luke began stomping after him. The man blinked repeatedly while trying to back away. He saw the dagger was close, but not close enough.

Luke's eyes were locked on his face, and he swirled the blade in his hand and then plowed it into his chest.

"AUGH!"

The raider grunted and breathed strenuously. He stared up at Luke with surprise as the boy snarled at him; "Who's the stupid one now? THIS IS FOR KILLING MRS. HARRIS!" Luke planted his boot to the raider's chest, yanking the sword out and then shoved the blade into the raider's stomach, once, twice, a third time, watching him cry out and splutter pitiful pleas for mercy.

Tearing the sword out, Luke then slashed across his throat and bashed it through his right eye, shouting out with great rage; "AND THIS IS FOR JOBY!"

His chest moved up and down rapidly as he panted and glowered at the mutilated corpse.

Slowly... he looked to Joby again with a growing frown.

His best friend, young and pure, yet so old and full of mischief; a good, loyal friend, had been lost in such a horrible way—forever. Luke was shaking with anger and sadness.

Alarich's breathing had slowed; he was barely moving.

Luke fell to his knees and scooted closer to him, gently touching his neck with eyes that bled the words 'I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry this happened to you.'

Alarich watched his expressions, wishing he could speak to him to let him know everything was going to be alright. He knew it would be, because he saw more in that boy than others have, or ever will. Just by observing him during his quest to retrieve the enchantment for his sister's necklace, his naïvety, fast-learning and determination only showed he had the heart of a true warrior in the making. Just like Alarich's first master.

Alarich lifted his head slightly and nudged against Luke a final time, and then rested close to his knees. Luke belted a small huff of sorrow and hugged Alarich's muzzle, gripping his hair tight.

As Luke wept, Alarich stared at the fire, hearing the screams and shouts from the surviving villagers, and watched the raiders riding up on their horses. Darkness was closing in on him. He felt himself fading, and fading... and fading... until, there was nothing to see, nothing to hear, nothing to feel.

Luke felt him slip away. Slowly, he let go of him and sat up. He heard the raiders coming, but he could only look at Alarich and Joby. They fought with everything they had, and now they can finally be at peace.

He placed his hand on his sword, slid it over and stood up, facing the men.

When he looked at them, his gaze moved intensely from one man to the next; their attire was quite similar to what that so-called adventurer 'Daniel' wore. They must have been his men.

One of them lifted his chin and pointed his sword at Luke. "You, boy... have something we want. You took it from my brother."

Luke remained silent, his stance resembling a wolf staring down its prey, contemplating his first move.

The man rolled his shoulders back, letting out a sound of amusement, "We're not going to kill you. We just want a simple transaction. You give us that little trinket, and we'll trouble you no longer. We'll be on our way, and that's a promise."

"Ysolden's word is always good." Another raider assured as he leaned to the left a bit, resting his hand on his leg.

Luke could picture himself going at this scum full force, but he knew he had to remain calm. He had to think this through carefully and be as stealthy as possible.

"Well..." one side of his mouth quirked up in a self-ashamed way, "I really don't have choice now, do I?" He waved his arm in the direction of Joby and Alarich's bodies, which soon made all the raiders glance at each other as if entertained by him.

The one who spoke to Luke looked back to him with a nod, "Right! That's the spirit!"

Luke nodded back and motioned them to follow him up the road. He couldn't help looking at his friends' bodies as he passed them. It hurt so bad.