Gabriel’s heart thrummed within his chest, a captive bird seeking freedom. The somber toll of bells echoed through the stone walls, piercing the silence. A sense of foreboding washed over him, the origin of the chaos unknown, yet undoubtedly the harbinger of something grave. Paralyzed by fear, he remained in bed, uncertainty gnawing at his resolve. Should I open the doors and find out what lay behind them?

Suddenly, a sharp knock sounded against the heavy wooden door of his chambers. Startled, Gabriel leaped from his bed. His steps tentative, he approached the door, wrestling with the fear and confusion that threatened to consume him.

“Who is it?” he called out, trying to keep his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart.

“It’s Janus, my prince,” an urgent voice replied.

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know yet.” The uncertainty in Janus’s tone was a chilling echo of Gabriel’s own apprehension. “Let me in.”

Gabriel wrestled with a dilemma. He knew the tolling bells signaled trouble, and he hesitated to let anyone in. But trust, like a small candle flickering in the storm, ignited his decision. Janus had always been a pillar of support, someone he trusted implicitly.

His hand trembled as he unlocked the door. The metallic click of the lock was an eerie prelude to the unknown awaiting him.

“It’s open,” Gabriel said.

As the door eased open, the squeaking of the hinges made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Janus's figure filled the doorway, his usually calm face fraught with concern. “My prince, we must be under attack.”

“Who could be attacking us?” Gabriel murmured; the question was directed more to himself than Janus.

“I don’t know, but I’ll protect you.”

Nodding, Gabriel’s mind spiraled into a thousand possibilities, each more terrifying than the last.

“We can’t stay here,” Janus advised. “We need to discover what’s happening.”

“But what if it's not safe out there?”

“There will be greater safety in numbers. Whatever this is.”

Gabriel fell silent, his eyes clouded with internal struggle. “We need to go to my family.”

Janus unsheathed a dagger, its steel blade ominously glinting in the torchlight. He extended the handle towards Gabriel, who hesitated before accepting the weapon. Its grim purpose weighed heavily on him.

“In case you need to protect yourself.”

Gabriel eyed the weapon, a tool of destruction. He prayed to Victra that he would not need to use it.

“Where should we go?” Gabriel asked.

“We go to the king,” Janus responded after a pause.

Despite the dread knotting his stomach, Gabriel quickly donned his coat, letting Janus guide him through the unnaturally silent corridors. As they navigated the labyrinthine corridors, the echoing sound of approaching footsteps filled the air. Janus immediately assumed a defensive stance, sword ready.

“Stay behind me,” Janus said, his voice calm yet commanding.

Gabriel obeyed. The footsteps grew closer, growing louder with each passing second. His breathing became shallow as fear beckoned him to the brink of despair. But he resisted, holding his borrowed dagger at the ready. Suddenly, three familiar guards rounded the corner, their expressions tense as they scanned their surroundings, but sighs of relief escaped them as they spotted Gabriel.

“What’s happening?” Janus asked.

“No time for that now. We must secure Prince Gabriel,” one guard responded, his gaze fixed on Gabriel.

Ignoring the protective shield Janus had formed around him, Gabriel stepped forward. “Where are you taking me?” he asked, refusing to be led blindly.

The eldest of the three guards, Optus, softened his gaze. “We're taking you to safety, my prince.”

Gabriel wanted to question further, but the echo of approaching footfalls interrupted him. Turning, he saw a group of five armored men donning black cloaks charging toward them, their swords ready. His blood ran cold.

“Protect the Prince!” Optus ordered, drawing his sword.

Janus, unwavering in his protective stance, pivoted Gabriel behind him to face the attackers. Optus and the two other guards joined Janus. They each put their fists to their hearts as they faced each other. Something indistinguishable passing between their gazes. Then the battle ensued, the clashing swords a brutal dance of steel and rage.

The guards formed a line in front of Gabriel. No one moved independently; as if guided by an invisible tether, every guard advanced in flawless synchronization. They used their swords not just to shield themselves but to protect each other as well. These men, committed to live and die alongside one another, stood united for his defense. Meanwhile, the attackers seemed to have no strategy beyond penetrating their wall of steel.

Optus downed an enemy with a stab to the heart, creating a glimmer of hope. Then the guards formed a defensive wedge against the attackers. Three against four now. The odds were evening. Yet the clamor of battle was soon drowned by the sound of more enemy reinforcements. Another four attackers joined the fray, the weight of their body pressing against the wedge.

“We can't hold them off!” Optus shouted. “Get the prince to safety. We'll cover your escape.”

“Yes, we can,” Janus said between strikes.  

“Take him to safety. We’ll hold them back as long as we can.” Just as he finished his command, a sword slashed across Optus' stomach, dropping him to his knees before a fatal strike pierced his neck. Blood sprayed against his defenders as the attacker withdrew their sword in an arc.

“Father!” Janus cried out.

Gabriel knew then that they stood no chance. If only they had their shields, they could have constructed a defensive barrier to hold off the enemy. The guards were outnumbered, and their chances of survival were rapidly diminishing with each passing breath. Yet the guards fought with desperate courage. Gabriel contemplated running, but he could not, would not, turn his back on the men who fought so valiantly for him.

His hand clenched the dagger hilt tighter, his fingers going white around the cool metal. The words of the attackers echoed in his ears, “Kill the prince.”

“Janus, get the prince out of here,” one of the remaining guards ordered, his voice strained as he fended off two adversaries.

“Father.” His scream carried a profound grief that sent chills down Gabriel's spine.

“Janus. Now,” the guard said.

Janus struck out one final time before retreating, his eyes wide and distraught.

“Fight valiantly, die with honor,” Janus addressed his comrades. Then he turned towards his fallen father, whispering, “Farewell.”

“The men... they won’t hold out much longer,” Gabriel said, his gaze lingering on the courageous men battling to the death.

“Don’t let their sacrifice be in vain,” Janus said, his voice laced with sorrow.

Unable to argue, Gabriel followed Janus, his heart aching for the brave men who sacrificed their lives for him. Gabriel never knew that Janus was Optus’s son. He never paid enough attention. He berated himself for not knowing the men who would die to protect him—who had died. How could Janus be so brave, so honorable, after watching his father die? How could those men, with wives, children, and full lives, place the life of a child above their own? Gabriel couldn’t comprehend their courage.

The cacophony of battle gradually faded into the distance as they traversed the tangled corridors. “Left, right, left, right,” Gabriel repeated under his breath, using the mantra to anchor his footsteps amidst the chaos as he ran.

As their desperate escape continued, Gabriel was haunted by the gruesome sights he encountered. Bodies of guards and enemies alike were scattered across the floor. Their still forms a chilling testament to the brutality of battle. The once pristine stone tiles were now tarnished by blood, pools of it forming in the cold crevices. He wanted to look away from the horrifying scene, but he found himself unable to. His gaze remained glued to the scarlet life essence staining the ground. His mind spun, tangling itself in a web of confusion and disbelief. Why was this happening?

As he navigated the carnage in a daze, he barely registered the bodies he hurdled over. His foot skidded on a slick patch of blood, and he tumbled, his hands instinctively reaching out to break his fall. Yet, despite his efforts, his cheek kissed the cold, blood-soaked floor. Half his face was instantly covered in the sticky warmth of blood. His heart pounded against his ribcage as he swiped his eyes, only to realize he had transferred more of the gruesome matter into his eyes. 

Staring down at his hands, a wave of revulsion swept through him. The pungent, coppery scent of blood invaded his nostrils, triggering his lightheadedness. He leaned against the hard stone wall, knees wobbling beneath him, and succumbed to a bout of retching.

Janus was at his side instantly, his hand wrapped firmly around Gabriel's arm. “Up, Prince. We have no time to spare.”

Gabriel thus found himself being guided along, his body operating on pure instinct while his mind swirled with terror and confusion. He felt like a spectator in his own body, the primal instinct to survive overshadowing all else.

As they rounded another corner, they encountered more guards. Jamison, bloodied and battered, stepped forward. “My Prince, are you well?” His eyes swept over Gabriel's form; concern etched deeply in his features. “Where are you hurt?”

Gabriel blinked at him, managing to find his voice amidst the shock. “It’s not my blood.” Prompting a sigh of relief from Jamison.

“Where is my family?” Gabriel demanded, his voice a mere whisper.

“Follow me,” Jamison responded.

Turning the corner and drawing near to the king's chambers, Gabriel's gaze fell upon two familiar figures among the dead. The very guards who once took pleasure in his pain were now lifeless, lying in their own crimson pools. Gabriel hated the men, but they didn’t deserve this fate.

As he reached the king’s chambers, Gabriel's eyes were drawn to a body sprawled near the door. It was the blonde maid he had been seeing recently, her beauty marred by a brutal wound to her chest. Her eyes, once vibrant, were now glassy in death. Tears welled in Gabriel's eyes as he mourned the innocent life lost, a casualty of the selfish ambitions of others.

“Why are we walking past the king’s chambers?” Gabriel stared at the doors, already dreading the answer.

Jamison met his gaze. “The king is dead.”