𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞

𝐒 𝐄 𝐕 𝐄 𝐍

𝐒𝐞𝐚 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝

Kelrose erupts into chaos. One by one the mystics around Briéa start to notice the inferno threatening to devour their home. Briéa and Daskel scramble to their feet as a Prime, old enough to have wrinkles that run so deep Briéa can see them from the other side of the lawn, comes barreling out screaming indistinguishable words to anyone who will listen.

There is shock.

There is panic.

There is terror.

Tendrils of smoke dance with one another, merging together to create pillars that reach towards the skies. Distant clashes of metal and magic are the brutal war cry of the slaughter. Half of the mystics are able to gather themselves enough to run to the walls of Kelrose for protection. The other half is too stunned to do anything. Briéa looks to Daskel who grabs her hand and pulls on her, pulling her not only towards the Prime but back to the world around them. Now is not the time to sink into fear.

Briéa can train every day for a moment like this, but until she is face to face with destruction, those skills mean nothing.

The two join the slew of mystics following the Prime's orders. As they get closer, it's easier for Briéa to perceive the commands of the old Prime.

Get inside.

Take cover.

But as Briéa's eyes meet the aged and weathered eyes of the woman, understanding passes between them and Briéa knows that those orders are not meant for everyone. She skids to a stop and grabs Daskel's arm before he can get too far from her and ends caught up in the rest of the crowd. No time to explain, she keeps her grip on his hand and guides them both away from the panicked mobs. This is no freak accident set off by a witless young mystic.

This is an attack.

"Briéa what are you doing?" Daskel shouts after her. By now she's dropped his hand. But still, he follows, banking around corners, shoving past frantic mystics, some hysterical in the bedlam.

Has Kelrose ever experience anything like this? Briéa racks her brain for anything Ennell or Reihan or Aesira or Bran may have mentioned, but nothing comes up. Surely this can't be the first time. Lost in thought, Daskel shouts again to get her attention. "Briéa!" Then a harsh yank on the bank of her shirt nearly sends her adrenaline-filled body to the ground. She turns on Daskel.

"Fuck, Dask, we need to go!"

Go? Go where?

Ennell.

Wherever Ennell is, that's where they need to be. Then she thinks of Zaarin and everything shifts. No, wherever he is. They need to have his back. Briéa might not be Shield yet, but she feels the duty pulling on her chest to be at his side.

"No!" She doesn't hear him as she takes off down the corridor again.

Where would he be?

"Briéa! Stop! We need to find cover now!"

Everything is hazy. Nothing is making sense. The world around her is a blur, moving fast around her. Everything spinning. Except for Daskel. Amongst the chaos, he is the only thing still before her. His eyes plead, beg, for her to listen. She reaches forward and kisses him clumsily. Whether the salt she tastes is from sweat or his tears she doesn't know. If she can protect him, protect Aesira, and Reihan, then the gods as her witnesses she will.

"Go." Her voice is set, firm, no way to sway her now. Daskel's face breaks. He doesn't believe she'll come back from whatever waits for her. Not even Briéa knows if she believes she'll survive. "Find Aesira, Reihan, Daskel, please, find them and keep yourselves safe." She doesn't wait for him to respond before sprinting down the hallway and away from her love. Tears run down her face but now is not the time. She quickly wipes them away with the back of her hand and searches for a resolve to fight. Searches for her magic.