He'd been called many things growing up. Brilliant, heroic, a prodigy. None of that seemed to matter anymore. Something had gone terribly wrong. Not even ten minutes ago, everyone he'd ever looked up to had been wiped out, and he was meant to join them. If it weren't for the foresight of his good friend, he wouldn't have known about this escape tunnel. He wondered when he would reach the end, and how long would it be before he would succumb to his wounds. The thought of his mother and sister kept him going.
As he staggered along, he left a trail of fresh blood. It dripped steadily from a deep gash in his left arm. He wondered how long he'd been bleeding and whether the trail would lead his enemies right to him. It was dark in the corridor, and his only source of light was a faint globe of light held in his right hand. He feared anything brighter would attract attention, and he needed to save his strength in case he ran into any danger. The light flickered with his heart beat, which sent a wave of pain through his body with every pulse.
"My mother, my sister," he thought. "I can't die here." The thought occurred to him that he needed to cauterize his wound. He slowed to a brisk walk, trying to avoid limping. He waved his light over his body, inspecting the damage. His left sleeve had been completely torn off. He couldn't move the fingers on his wounded limb. The buttons and insignia of his uniform reflected the faint light. There was blood on the handle and sheath of his sword. His own blood. The symbol of his newly formed house, a seabird, was covered in crimson. A bad omen, he thought.
He glanced over his shoulder. No one. The light in his right hand faded and was replaced by a blue flame on his finger tip. He pressed it to the cut in his arm. It took everything he had not to yell in pain. He was no healer, not like his mother or sister, but he didn't have time to worry about the procedure, as long as he stopped bleeding. The steady stream of blood halted.
"Good," he thought. "At least I won't bleed to death. And my trail ends here."
That's when he heard the familiar sound of boots against stone in the distance behind him. He canceled his spell and ran with all of his might forward, trusting his instincts in the dark.
"Do you hear that?" he heard one of them shout. They had an accent. Grayskins. "Follow the blood! You there, stop!" And the sound of their boots got louder, and closer.
"How long is this damn tunnel?" the young hero wondered in frustration. His pursuers were closing in rapidly. He tried to deliberate whether he should keep running or stand his ground. None of the voices were familiar. They were likely soldiers working with whoever was behind this slaughter. He might be able to take them by himself. But should he take that bet? What if they weren't regular troops? But he couldn't think clearly, and he had to make a choice.
"Halt!" one of the guards commanded. They came to a stop. "Listen. He's not running anymore."
"Maybe he died," one said. "He did leave behind a lot of blood."
"Shh!" their commander hissed. "What is that?"
They gazed into the shadow in front of them. A sweet smell filled the air. Then a deep rumbling sound shook the corridor walls, as though someone rang a massive bell. The commander conjured a bright globe of light and sent it down the hall.
"It's him!" someone shouted. The young prodigy was channeling a spell. His eyes glowed a golden white. His hair flowed, despite the lack of wind. Clearly, it was a powerful one. One of the soldiers loosed an arrow at him, but he simply tilted his head to the side and the arrow flew off course. The ringing was unbearable now. They drew their weapons and charged at him, but it was over in an instant. A flash shot down the tunnel and his pursuers fell over, dead. Their corpses seemed to have aged by two centuries.
"The Denewei will not be happy when they learn I used their teachings for this," he thought. "Or maybe they won't mind. These are their sworn enemies..." But that didn't matter now. He continued his escape uninterrupted.
A light appeared in the distance. The exit, he thought. Then he could hear the sound of flowing water, maybe a river or waterfall. It must be the passage out. A flood of relief filled his mind.
Suddenly, he was consumed by dread. "What is this?" he thought out loud. "Something's not right." There was a powerful source of magus ahead of him. That's when he made out the silhouette of a man, backlit by the daylight at the cave's opening.
"Who's there?" the young escapee called out.
No response.
The sickening feeling in his stomach intensified. He wondered if this stranger was there to help him get away, but his instincts told him to turn back and take his chances there. He pressed onward.
"Who are you?" he called again with an air of authority. "I command you to answer me."
The figure chuckled.
"Answer me!" he cried out.
"Command? Me?" the stranger laughed. "I'll enjoy teaching you your place."
The voice was all too familiar. The young noble slowed to a walk. He was close enough to see the figure's face, the last face he wanted to see.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Do you realize what's just happened?"
"That's interesting," the robed figure responded. "I was just about to ask you the same thing."
The stars began to align in the young man's head.
"Are you behind all this?" he asked, realizing the weight of this accusation.
"I'm flattered you think I could pull this off alone," the man replied.
"Traitor!" he exclaimed, but he suddenly felt weak. He fell to his knees. Regret began to swallow him up. He shouldn't have used such a powerful spell. There was no time for him to recover.
"There, there," his opponent said mockingly. "I'll be sure to thank your friend prince for delivering you to me."
"What?" was all he could mutter. Thoughts raced through his mind. His friend prince? Then it hit him: who told him about this escape route? A new pain filled his heart. He loved that man like a brother, how could he do this to him?
The man in robes stepped closer, and the closer he got, the weaker the young prodigy felt. He knew this would be the fight of his life. He staggered to his feet.
"Impressive," the man said.
"How are you doing this?" he asked, referring to the sudden onset of weakness.
"As much as I know it'll hurt your sister," the man spoke, ignoring his question, "I have to deal with you. I'll try not to enjoy it too much. But I will enjoy knowing no one will be able to get in between me and her-"
In the span of a single moment, with thoughts of his mother and sister in mind, our hero invoked the last of his strength, using his own life's essence, and lunged at his foe with his one good arm. Mid-leap, a blade of wind materialized in his fist. Caught off-guard, his opponent barely managed to react in time. He leaned back. The blade missed his throat by a hair, but found its way into his shoulder.
"Gah!" the man cried out, and he instinctively sent a blast of energy from his palm, throwing the young hero against the tunnel wall. The wind blade fizzled out of existence.
"Y- You..." the young noble stammered. His wound was opened again. "You stay away from her..."
The man waved his hand over his shoulder and his flesh began to seal itself shut. He couldn't believe this young bastard was able to take him by surprise. There were no witnesses, but the humiliation was almost too much to bear.
"Don't you worry about her," the man said, approaching the wounded prodigy. "I'll take very good care of her." And he smiled.
The young hero tried to fling bright, blue flames at his foe, but they were deflected with ease. He didn't have the strength for anything else. Memories of his sister consumed him. Tears began to burn in the corners of his eyes. With all his rage, he cast one last spell, but this too was flicked aside effortlessly.
The man kicked him onto his back, then reached down and unsheathed the young noble's blade.
"Fine craftsmanship," he said in admiration. "Fit for a king. I think I'll have this melted down and fitted to be my crown. The seabird, though, reminds me of her. Perhaps this would make a suitable gift. The only possession of yours that could be found..."
He placed the tip against the helpless young man's throat.
"I warned you it would come to this." He smiled. "Your legendary career ends here."
A deafening explosion rocked the entire mountain, and for a moment, the usurper lost his balance...