**Prologue: ******

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He could still hear the screams. The wails of the subjects who had lost their monarch. His eyes swelled with unshed tears for the comrade he had lost tonight and the promise he had made. He pulled a cloak over his head, with one hand, the other holding the future of all of Illaria. As he slipped into the night, the trees whispered, as if they knew of the great tragedy that was going to strike the nation-if it hadn’t already. He wouldn’t know wither way. Death was ready to greet his new victim with a smile, well before he could learn of what would come to be in his absence.

He kept on walking down the dwindling, dreary path of nothing but night. Silver moonbeams painted the path in front of him as he placed one foot in front of the other. He had slowly gotten used to the monotonous environment. His legs ached, and his arm was weak from the constant weight of carrying the small bundle of life.

_Get to the house._

_She must be safe._

He repeated these 8 words in his head, repeatedly, as if it were his salvation. As he kept walking, he heard a rustling. He could feel the hair on his neck stand up, and a chill ran down his spine. He shook his head. He was paranoid- but then again, in wartime, one can never be too careful. He bent down. Using his free hand, he slipped a dagger from the inside of his boot leg. He lacked the time to grab anything else to protect them. Everything had happened so fast, and everything crumbled before he could even react.

He was in his quarters when the attack started, and he was asleep. Arrows had showered down, shattering the windows of the palace. He had woken up to the sound, drenched in a cold sweat. Everything they had feared was now raining upon them.

And when it rains, it pours.

The rustle he heard was now gone, and even the wind didn’t dare make a sound. The silence was deafening, and he could feel his ears vibrating with anticipation, not fear. No, he could never feel fear. Not anymore. Not after what he had seen throughout his life.

He didn’t dare blink, on the bed of Khaos, no one knows when you land upon. The god of Death seemed too omnipresent in these times.

 He saw a flash of movement, and before he could register it, an arrow came whizzing at him. A searing pain shot through his left shoulder, and his dagger immediately loosened in his hand. The smell of blood filled the air, the smell of rust and iron repugnant. He shook his head. This was no time to succumb to weakness. His hand gripped the handle of the weapon tightly, albeit a little weaker than he would have wished. He looked around once more, and once he caught sight of his target, he let the dagger fly. An anguished cry told him he had hit his mark. He clutched the baby in his hand tightly. He was close to the house, almost _too_ close. Never did things go the way they were supposed to anymore.

Reldan had told him he would be here halfway. Where was the former Otharion army general?

The man once again pulled the cloak over his head, for his face was only all too recognizable. A long scar tore at his face from his right eyebrow to his neck, courtesy of fighting for the Illarian King, the _now fallen_ king, on the front lines. His eyes were a glassy gray, and his hair was a scraggly, graying color. 

He kept walking, placing one foot after the other, walking down a small stone and gravel path. His head turned up sharply at the sight of dim orange lights.

_He was here._

Outside of the house, a tall, bearded man stood, his features shunned by the harsh lighting of the room. Three boys, all no older than the age of army enlistment, 17 in the state of Illaria. Their faces were tired, older than they should have been. Their faces were covered by cloaks, protecting them from the harsh winds, hinting at an earlier winter, but the gleam of their silver eyes gave away their foreign heritage. His hands trembling, he placed the babe in the burly man’s arms. They exchanged nods, and their eyes spoke volumes. Silence was the safest way to preserve a secret. The small bundle in the General’s arms squirmed and mumbled a little, tossing in her sleep.

The two men exchanged nods, an agreement of a favor promised what feels now like eons ago, before walking in the same footsteps that they took to reach their destinations, not once looking back. Because everyone knows now that keeping your back safe is all that guarantees survival.

The prologue from my book!