The Hallowed War: Prophesy of Ruin

Prologue

 Fire raged outside the stone castle walls, soldiers and servants scrambling to either get away from the combat or get closer in order to defend their home. The heavy smoke, suffocating in its intensity and nearly blinding in its darkness, made it difficult to maneuver out of the throng of people. Amongst the horde, a singular man of long red hair and golden eyes hid, a staff clutched tightly in his grasp as his gaze flickered in all directions in search of an exit. Locating the servants making a beeline towards a back room, he follows close behind, dodging around blades and spears or armored men and women rushing off to fend off the attackers.

 Gods above, the attackers, he saw their leader show up at the throne room with his blade drawn and demand that the Emperor and Empress; Oswald, and Arlette Lightbearer, meet him in combat. The man had no major distinguishing features save for the eyepatch that covered the left side of his face and beard but the look in his one visible eye and his grin showed he was nothing but a mad man, one who fought his way through their defenses and thought himself a king slayer. Last he saw of his Emperor he'd been given a staff, one he's only seen locked away in their vaults before, and was ordered to flee. Oswald seemed like he wanted to say more, but his words were drowned out by the sickening sound of a blade cutting through flesh. The Emperor's severed head fell, rolling across the magnificent red carpet, staining it to the point it appeared black and a furious war cry from the Empress as she charged forward with sword and shield at hand was the last thing he saw before he turned tail and ran.

 Catching his balance as a blast caused the very walls and ground to shake with the force of its power, he ran in the direction the servants were fleeing to. His ears were ringing and at this point he couldn't tell if it was due to adrenaline or the loud blasts going off outside the castle's walls. Passing by the rushing servants he flinched as he saw some getting caught by stray arrows flying through the barricade in the front gate while others; in their rush, fell over and nearly trampled by the mass of people rushing by. Mage fire and crossbow bolts whooshed by the heat of the fire stifling and made him sweat more than he already was and the thunk the bolts let off as they embedded themselves on the wooden frame of the kitchen door ahead. Ducking into the room as fast as he could he shut the door behind him and took a look of his surroundings.

 Servants were ushering people through the hidden passage on the wall, a way to move across the castle without nobles and other gentry seeing them. But also, a way to leave the castle walls without drawing attention. Searching around the mass of people he felt his heart drop at the lack of one specific denizen of the castle being here, Mertel Faele, his wife and fellow mage, the one that gave even a semblance of light to his life was nowhere to be seen. He tried to go back the way he came, hoping to find her making her way to safety but he was pulled back by one of the maids.

"It's too dangerous to go back out there! Move if you don't want to get killed."

"But-"

 He was interrupted by banging on the door, the sound of heavy boots hitting the wood and attempting to break it down more than enough to cause those still there to make haste in their escape. Praying to any of the gods, even those he didn't worship, he pleaded for her safety before gathering his will and heading where the others were. Shoving past a few of the people, providing a quick apology to the complaining and frightened people, he manages to get to a space open enough where he could book it out down the passage and escape. If he made it out fast enough maybe he'd be able to spot her when... if she escaped.

 Rushing past the slightly dust filled corridors, smoke and ash beginning to filter in from the fire and chaos outside, the mage lifts his cloak to cover up his coughs, his eyes watering and causing him to stumble in the dark. The lack of proper oxygen began to take a toll on him, his vision was beginning to cloud over but he pushed through. As he ran, he reached into a component bag he had tied under his arm like a holster, the half cloak he wore normally would cover it if not for the speed he was running in. Without looking he grabs a thin wire of copper and gives one final prayer that it reaches its target, and casts Message.