Dayvn RP

Dayvn: -The kingdom of Viridian, a once prosperous and rich city, now turned into a pile of rumble and ash. But what caused such a failure in a kingdom? Was the fault placed on the king? Was it his burden to bear? Well, it depends on who tells the story. History will be told by the God of Madness, Narza, who is narrating right now. Enough of that, onto the story. It all started with the birth of a boy, born into the family of Melton. He had brown hair, and held the same colour in his eyes. His family was of royal decent, which meant that the boy had the blood of kings passed down. The name that would be given to him would be Freed, the Emerald Wolf. He didn’t have the childhood that a normal child should bear. Instead, from a young age, he was forced into training. It was similar to that of torture. Beatings were laid upon the young boy for not meeting criteria. The beatings would consist of physical hits from his father’s hands; slaps and punches were the most common. That, or he was left secluded in a dark room for days, with no windows to be seen and cramped brick walls concealing him in. His training consisted of physical and mental ideas. The physical training was mostly training with the sword, and pushing his capabilities beyond his limits; often leaving him breathless on the floor, pouring with sweat. This would often just lead to more beatings from his father. His father taught him all that was there needed to know about ruling as a monarch, including ideas of honor and justice; which were the most important of all that was given in his lectures. Freed grew up a cold man, not knowing the word ‘mercy.’ However, he did have a great sense of honor, glory, and nationalism; all of which were passed down from his father, in which would make him appear as both a worthy foe and leader. His father ruled with an iron fist, and showed no mercy even to the most kind-hearted of people. His son followed closely in his footsteps, taking in all of the knowledge that was given to him. However…He had one fault that was that differentiated to his father. He had a horrible disease that ate away at his organs, killing slowly. This would cause him to cough uncontrollably and most disgustingly. His father never wanted to treat his children as family, however, rather he wished to treat them like soldiers. However, this would only effect one child, and that was Freed, as he was the only child born from his father, Savion, and his mother, Agnita. Freed joined the military as soon as he turned 14. He was admired by the other soldiers, and often received compliments on his skills with the blade. He was treated like every other soldier, which was his father’s orders. He won every sparring match, and completed each task with ease. His trainers couldn’t be prouder. His father, however, still saw his son as weak, and wished to push him even further. He wanted to test his skills in battle, and if he passed the test, he would be promoted to general. This test consisted of Freed taking on an entire rival country camp; which was located on the border of both countries. Freed took on the challenge like any other order, and turned the other direction, walking away from his father to complete his mission. Time would pass like the grains of sand slipping through the palm of a mortal. Months seemed like seconds to king Savion, and he was surprised when his son returned, bloody with clear wounds and tears in his clothes. Freed would drop his short-sword as soon as he was in front of his father, before remaining still. At first, Savion thought his son failed the mission, and came home to beg for forgiveness. He even asked.-“Why have you failed me, son? I thought I could give you a simple task, and you failed! How many did you kill, 5?”-Out of breath with his head hanging down, Freed would remain silent for a few moments, before speaking in a cold tone of voice.-“No…I killed 2000…”-His father’s eyes would widen in shock as he heard the news, before he would stutter out a statement.-“B-but…There was only 1000 in the camp…”-Freed would keep his head hanging down, before he would speak once more, an icy cold edge added to his voice.-“They sent reinforcements…”-Freed would still be breathing deeply and rapidly. His father would narrow his eyes as he realized he was being too soft with his son, giving him the chance to have pride in his work. He would quickly return fire with the same tone added to his voice.-“Hm…So what. Anyone could do that. But I suppose you deserve compensation…Come, follow me.”-After saying this did his father push himself off the armrests of the throne, before walking to the right side of the throne-room. Freed would finally raise his head, before his eyes would follow his father. He would pause for a few moments, before he would follow closely behind his father. Freed would be led down a narrow corridor, before finally his father would stop abruptly. Suddenly, his father would turn to a nearby torch, before he would reach up and pull on its warm metallic touch. Suddenly, the wall beside him would pop out, and a door-like contraption would appear. Savion would walk swiftly into the doorway, and his son would follow close behind. They would walk down a dark corridor, with no lights and no windows, before eventually finding themselves in a well-lit, wide room. In this room would a stairway lead up to an extravagant stand holding the most beautiful armor set that Freed ever laid eyes on. It was grayish-silver in colour, with three sapphire gems found on the breast piece. There was a metal wolf head on the left shoulder, with the same gem found on his breast piece located as the eye of the beast. There was golden lining found in odd spots, and the same for fur; most likely from the pelt of a wolf. The final piece of the armor set was a green and gold cape, a red colour corrupting the insides of the cape. What took Freed off of his feet, though, was the claymore in which was found beside the armor set. It was tainted a teal colour in the centre, with a golden pattern lining the edges of the blade. And finally, there was a teal sapphire in the center of the golden hilt. Freed would be absolutely taken away by the craftsmanship, and couldn’t believe the sight he was witnessing. Freed would wear this armor set into every battle he went into, and used the sword to slay countless opponents. Their country conquered country after country, and they seemed unstoppable. But what led to the demise of the country? Well, it was by a mad knight, one that had powers that were inhuman. He alone marched into the kingdom of Viridian. I will not explain his features, but he was one to be feared, that is for sure. When the guards attempted to stop him at the entrance to the castle did he easily slay them, their blood spilling across the ground and door. He would walk most rudely into the castle, and the king would quickly stand up and narrow his eyes.-“Who the hell are yo-!”-His sentence would be cut off as the knight extended his arm out, before he would squeeze. The king would then be silenced for eternity, his neck snapping just like that. The rest of the guards would attempt to rush to his aid, but it proved fruitless, as their minds were swiftly corrupted by the knight, now taken control by the knight. Freed would quickly rush to see what the commotion was, before witnessing the horror. The knight would turn his head towards Freed, before a sly smirk would fall on his face. Freed would unsheathe his sword, before going into a fighting stance. The knight would shake his head, before speaking.-“Silly boy…”-After this did the knight extend his hand out towards Freed, before squeezing it tightly. Freed’s brain would be in excruciating pain, and he would fall to his knees. Eventually, he would collapse from the strain, and everything would fade into a black voice before his eyes. He would wake up eventually, head still pounding, in a vast field with long grass. He would look around him in all directions, before finding what he was looking for. However…It was too late. His home was burning before his eyes, and he could hear the screams of the tormented souls within. A face of depression would befall his face. That day, he lost everything. Everything, that is, except the Viridian flag that was found laying beside him, still in mint condition. He would take upon the burden of attempting to destroy the one who took everything from him, and to rebuild his kingdom. But for now, he was forced to wander the wastelands of sorrow, searching for anything that could lead him to the knight. He eventually found himself at an abandoned castle. ‘A good headquarter for now’, he thought to himself. He managed to gain a few servants that served under him. Now would he be found on his throne. His flag would be found beside him, being held up by a stand that was made of gold, blade sheathed in it’s resting place on his side. He would be leaning on his hand which was being held up by the armrest, being in deep thought, thinking of his next plan of action in attempting to bring down the knight that took everything from him.-

~.Aᴘᴘʀᴏᴀᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀsᴛʟᴇ, ᴀʟᴍᴏsᴛ ɪɴ ᴍɪʀʀᴏʀ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀʟᴇ ʜɪᴍsᴇʟғ ᴀs ʜᴇ sᴏᴜɢʜᴛ sʜᴇʟᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ sɪᴍɪʟᴀʀ ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ. Tʜᴇ ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴏʟᴅ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴜɪɴᴇᴅ ᴄᴀsᴛʟᴇ sᴇᴇᴍᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴠɪᴅᴇ ᴀᴅᴇǫᴜᴀᴛᴇ sʜᴇʟᴛᴇʀ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴡᴀs ʙᴇᴄᴋᴏɴɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ. Sʜᴇ'ᴅ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴀᴄʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɢᴇᴅ sᴛʀᴜᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴀssᴜᴍɪɴɢ ɪᴛ's ᴅᴇsᴏʟᴀᴛᴇɴᴇss sʜᴇ'ᴅ ғᴏʀᴄᴇ ᴀɴ ᴇɴᴛʀʏ. Wɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴍɪɢʜᴛʏ ʀᴏᴀʀ, ʜᴀᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴄʜᴀɪᴄ ᴅᴏᴏʀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴘᴜsʜᴇᴅ ᴀsɪᴅᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇǫᴜᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴇɴᴛʀʏ ᴜɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴇᴍɪɴɪɴᴇ ғɪɢᴜʀᴇ ᴏғ ᴀ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴᴏɪᴅ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ. Tʜɪs ᴠᴏʟᴜᴘᴛᴜᴏᴜs ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ's sᴏғᴛ, ᴘᴏʀᴄᴇʟᴀɪɴ ғʟᴇsʜ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴀʟᴇᴅ ʙᴇɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴀ ᴛʜɪᴄᴋ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴀᴅᴏʀɴᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ ʙᴏᴅʏ. Dᴇsᴘɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴇɴɢᴛʜ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇʟᴇɢᴀɴᴛ ᴀᴛᴛɪʀᴇ, ᴠᴇʀʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴡᴀs ʟᴇғᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ғɪɴᴇ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟs ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ sᴋɪʀᴛɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ ʀᴏᴜɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪɢʜs ᴡʜɪʟsᴛ ʜᴇʀ ʙᴜsᴛ ᴡᴀs ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴇxᴘᴏsᴇᴅ. Mᴏᴅᴇsᴛʟʏ ᴡᴀsɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴏɴ ᴀᴍᴏɴɢsᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴛʏᴘᴇ, ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴀʟsᴏ ʀᴀʀᴇ ғᴏʀ sᴜᴄʜ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴄᴛ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴘʀᴏᴠᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ. Bʟᴀɴᴋᴇᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅᴇʀ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʙᴜɴᴅʟᴇ ᴏғ ʙʟᴏɴᴅᴇ ᴄᴜʀʟs ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴛᴡɪʀʟᴇᴅ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴛʀᴀᴠᴇʀsᴇᴅ sᴏᴜᴛʜ, ʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ᴛʀᴀᴄɪɴɢ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀᴍ ғʟᴇsʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴘᴘᴀʀᴇʟ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴅᴇᴄᴏʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ ɪᴛ. Oɴᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄᴜʟᴀʀʟʏ ᴛʜɪᴄᴋ ᴄᴜʀʟ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴡɪɴᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇxᴛᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ɪɴᴅᴇx ғɪɴɢᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ᴀs sʜᴇ ᴅʀᴇᴡ ɪᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜʀᴀɢɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ. Tʜᴇ ᴀʟᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɪʀ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴀ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴀsᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ᴏɴʟʏ ʜᴇʀ ᴀᴛᴛɪʀᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀʟsᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀʀɢᴇ ᴘᴀɪʀ ᴏғ ᴡɪɴɢs ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʜᴜɴɢ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ. ʜᴇʀ ʜᴇʀɪᴛᴀɢᴇ ᴀs ᴀ ʀᴀᴠᴇɴ ᴀs ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪғᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʀᴀɴsғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ; ᴀ ᴍᴀɢɴɪғɪᴄᴇɴᴛ ᴅɪsᴘʟᴀʏ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴘʟᴜᴍᴀɢᴇ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ɢʟɪsᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ sᴜᴄʜ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ ᴅᴇsᴘɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪᴍ ʟɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ sᴜʀʀᴏᴜɴᴅɪɴɢs. Iɴ ᴀɴ ᴀʟᴍᴏsᴛ ʜʏᴘɴᴏᴛɪᴄ, ʀʜʏᴛʜᴍɪᴄ ᴘᴀᴛᴛᴇʀɴ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ɢᴇɴᴛʟʏ ʀᴀɪsᴇ... Aɴᴅ ʟᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴀ sᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ᴅʀᴀғᴛ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴄᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ ᴀ sᴘᴀʀsᴇ ʙᴜɴᴅʟᴇ ᴏғ ғᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀs ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʜᴀᴅ ᴇsᴄᴀᴘᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ, ᴅʀɪғᴛɪɴɢ ᴀᴄʀᴏss ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴅ, ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ. Tʜɪs ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʀᴀᴠᴇɴ ᴡᴀs ᴛᴇʀʀɪʙʟʏ ғᴀʀ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜᴏᴍᴇ, ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴀ... Dɪsᴀɢʀᴇᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴏʟᴏɢɪᴇs ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴏᴍᴇ. Tᴇʟʟɪᴜs, ᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴇɴᴛ ғᴀʀ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜᴇʀᴇ. Tᴏʀɴ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ ʀᴜᴛʜʟᴇssʟʏ ʙʏ ᴡᴀʀ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ Bᴇᴏʀᴄ ᴀɴᴅ Lᴀɢᴜᴢ. 'Hᴜᴍᴀɴs' ᴀɴᴅ 'Sᴜʙ-ʜᴜᴍᴀɴs'. Cʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ ᴏғ Wɪsᴅᴏᴍ, ᴀɴᴅ Cʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ ᴏғ Sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜ. Bᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀs sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴘᴀᴄɪғɪsᴛ sᴜᴄʜ ᴀs sʜᴇ? Wɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴀʀᴇᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ Rᴀᴠᴇɴs; ɴᴏᴛᴏʀɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴡᴇᴀᴋ ᴀɴᴅ Hᴇʀᴏɴs; ɴᴏᴛᴏʀɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴘᴀᴄɪғɪsᴛɪᴄ, sʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ɪɴ sᴇʟғ-ᴅᴇғᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴғʟɪᴄᴛ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴄᴏɴsᴛᴀɴᴛʟʏ ʀᴀᴠᴀɢᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ. Hᴇʀ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʜᴀᴅ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʙᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ Bᴇᴏʀᴄ's ᴍᴀssᴀᴄʀᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ Hᴇʀᴏɴ Tʀɪʙᴇ, ᴀs ғᴀʀ ᴀs sʜᴇ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ʜᴇʀ ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ʜᴀᴅ ʀᴇsᴏʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘɪʀᴀᴄʏ ғᴏʀ sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴀʟ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀʙᴀɴᴅᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ. Nᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ sʜᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs ᴏғ ᴀ sɪᴍɪʟᴀʀ sɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ғᴏʀᴄᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ sʟᴀᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇᴀᴋᴇʀ Lᴀɢᴜᴢ. Iᴛ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴡᴀʀ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇǫᴜᴇᴀᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ ᴀ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴇsᴄᴀᴘᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ sᴜᴄʜ ᴀ ᴅᴜʟʟ, ᴜɴғʟᴀᴛᴛᴇʀɪɴɢ ʟɪғᴇ. Wᴀs ɪᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ ɪᴛ? Sʜᴇ sᴜᴘᴘᴏsᴇᴅ sᴏ, ɪᴛ ᴏғᴛᴇɴ ᴄʀᴏssᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʜᴇ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʟᴇғᴛ, ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴋɪɴ ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ sʜᴇ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀᴘᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏғ? Tʜɪs ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʙɪʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ʙᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ, ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴏɴᴇ, sʜᴇ ғᴏᴜɴᴅ sʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴇʀ ʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴏғ ᴘʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜ sᴇᴇᴍᴇᴅ ʟᴇss ᴏғ ᴀ ʙᴜʀᴅᴇɴ. Wɪᴛʜ ᴀ sʜᴀᴋᴇ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ Mᴀʀᴢɪᴀ's ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴs ʙᴇ ᴄᴀsᴛ ᴀsɪᴅᴇ. Tʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴏʀ ɢʀᴏᴀɴᴇᴅ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ ᴀs ɪᴛ ʀᴏʟʟᴇᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴘᴏsɪᴛɪᴏɴ sᴇᴘᴀʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴʀᴇʟᴇɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴄᴏʟᴅ sʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴇsᴄᴀᴘɪɴɢ ғʀᴏᴍ. Hᴇʀ ᴀᴍʙᴇʀ ɢʟᴀʀᴇ ᴅʀɪғᴛᴇᴅ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀsᴛʟᴇ. Qᴜɪᴇᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ sᴇᴇᴍɪɴɢʟʏ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ. Hᴇʀ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ғʟɪᴄᴋᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ sᴜᴄʜ ɪɴғɪᴅᴇʟɪᴛʏ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴛʀᴀɴᴄᴇ ʜᴀʟʟ, ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɢɴɪғɪᴄᴇɴᴛ, ɪɴᴛʀɪᴄᴀᴛᴇʟʏ ᴄᴀʀᴠᴇᴅ sᴛᴏɴᴇᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʟɪɢɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏʀᴄʜᴇs ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴀɴ ɪʀʀᴇɢᴜʟᴀʀ ᴘᴀᴛᴛᴇʀɴ. Tʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍᴀɢɴɪғɪᴄᴇɴᴛ ɢʟᴀss ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴀ ʙʀɪɢʜᴛ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴇ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀɪᴏʀ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪsᴇ ᴅᴜʟʟ ᴄᴀsᴛʟᴇ, ʜɪɢʜʟɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ ɪᴛs ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇs. Uᴘᴏɴ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴀɢᴜᴇsᴛ ᴏғ ɪɴsᴘᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴs, ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴇᴠɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄᴜʟᴀʀʟʏ ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪs ғɪɴᴇ ᴍᴏɴᴜᴍᴇɴᴛ. Tʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ sᴛᴏɴᴇᴡᴏʀᴋ ʙᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴍʏʀɪᴀᴅs ᴏғ ɪɴᴛʀɪᴄᴀᴛᴇ sᴄʀᴀᴛᴄʜᴇs ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴘᴇᴘᴘᴇʀᴇᴅ ɪᴛs ᴇxᴛᴇʀɪᴏʀ. Mᴀɴʏ ʙᴀᴛᴛʟᴇs ʜᴀᴅ ᴏᴄᴄᴜʀʀᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ sᴇᴇᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛ ʀᴇᴄᴇɴᴛ ᴏғ sᴋɪʀᴍɪsʜᴇs ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴄᴀᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴅᴀᴍᴀɢᴇ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴇᴍɪɴɢ ʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴏғ ʟɪғᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴠᴇ. Aɴ ᴀʙᴀɴᴅᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴄᴀsᴛʟᴇ sᴇᴇᴍᴇᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛ ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴠᴏɪᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀʀsʜ ᴡᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴀʀ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴsᴛʀᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. Bᴇғᴏʀᴇ sʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡ ʜᴇʀ ᴄᴜʀɪᴏᴜsɪᴛʏ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇsᴛ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ, sʜᴇ'ᴅ ᴄᴀsᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴀɴxɪᴏᴜs ᴇʏᴇs ᴀᴄʀᴏss ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀʟʟ, sᴇᴀʀᴄʜɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ ᴀ sɪɢɴ ᴏғ ʟɪғᴇ, ᴀs ғᴀʀ ᴀs sʜᴇ ᴋɴᴇᴡ, sʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴛʀᴇsᴘᴀssɪɴɢ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴅ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪs ᴛʜɪs ᴍᴜsɪᴄ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴇxᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴏғ ʜᴏsᴘɪᴛᴀʟɪᴛʏ sʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ғɪɴᴇ ᴄᴏɴsᴛʀᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. Sʜᴇ ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʟɪғᴇ, ᴀs ᴡᴀs ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ. Wʜᴏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ sᴇᴛᴛʟᴇ ɪɴ sᴜᴄʜ ʀᴜɪɴ? Uɴʟᴇss ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴇʀ ɪᴛs ɪɴʜᴀʙɪᴛᴀɴᴛs ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ sᴇᴇᴋɪɴɢ ᴀsʏʟᴜᴍ. Tʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴜsᴛ sᴄᴀᴛᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ ʜᴀʟʟs sʜᴇ sᴀᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ sʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴀssᴜᴍᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ғɪɢᴜʀᴇ ᴏғ ᴀ ᴍᴀɴ. Hɪs ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ sᴇᴇᴍᴇᴅ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ, ᴘᴇʀʜᴀᴘs ʟᴏsᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛs... Hᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ɪᴍᴘᴏssɪʙʟᴇ ғᴏʀ ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴜɴsᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ᴇɴᴛʀᴀɴᴄᴇ. Tʜᴇ ᴀɢᴇᴅ ᴅᴏᴏʀs sᴀᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ғᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ. Dᴜᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ ᴘʜʏsɪǫᴜᴇ, Mᴀʀᴢɪᴀ ᴡᴀs ɪɴ ɴᴏ ᴘᴏsɪᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇғᴇɴᴅ ʜᴇʀsᴇʟғ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴀʀɪsᴇ. Sʜᴇ'ᴅ ᴏʙsᴇʀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀʟᴇ ᴄʟᴏsᴇʟʏ, ᴀs sʜᴇ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ ᴇᴅɢᴇᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋᴡᴀʀᴅs. Sʜᴇ ᴡɪsʜᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜɪs sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀɴᴅ sʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ɴᴏ ʜᴀʀᴍ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴀʏᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴇxᴘʟᴏɪᴛ ᴛʜɪs ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ. Fᴏʀ ʜɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴇᴅ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴇ ᴍᴜsᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜs ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴀʟʟ. Iɴ sɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ʜᴇʀ ʙʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴀᴍʙᴇʀ ᴇʏᴇs ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴅʀɪғᴛ ᴀᴄʀᴏss ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴍ. Tʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴘʟᴇɴᴛʏ ᴏғ ᴏᴘᴘᴏʀᴛᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇs ғᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴇsᴄᴀᴘᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴀɢɪʟᴇ ғɪɢᴜʀᴇ sᴜʀᴇʟʏ ɪᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀɴ ɪssᴜᴇ ғᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ... Rɪɢʜᴛ? Iɴ ᴘʟᴀɴɴɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴇsᴄᴀᴘᴇ ʀᴏᴜᴛᴇ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ɴᴇᴄᴇssᴀʀʏ, sʜᴇ'ᴅ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴄᴏɢɴɪsᴇ ʜᴇʀ ʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴏғ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅᴏɪɴɢs. Sʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴏʟᴅ ʜᴀᴅ ᴅɪᴇᴅ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴀʟʟ. Iғ ɪᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ...~